Writing on both sides of the brain (by Henriette Anne Klauser)

(Amazon UK link)

I read the book ‘Writing on both sides of the brain’ by Henriette Anne Klauser in 2010, and remembered that I found it extremely useful. So I thought it would be a good idea to re-read it. I have quite a collection of writing books but this one stood out in my mind as something a bit different.

The style of the book is somewhat informal, but also clear and informative. It feels almost as if the author is chatting, or explaining something via email rather than trying to be instructive. And it spends a lot of time focussing on the two parts of the brain - theoretically left and right, although I never can remember which is which. 

The author also uses the terms ‘Caliban’ and ‘Ariel’ but that’s not particularly helpful to people (like me) who have not seen or read Shakespeare’s ‘The Tempest’. Nor (in my view) is it encouraging to think of one side of our brain as a monster, since both sides are needed. 

So I prefer to think of them in more general terms, as the creative, spontaneous, flexible part, and the more structured, organised and logical part. Whenever I’ve filled in a questionnaire to determine which side of my brain is dominant, it comes out very even, so perhaps this is why I find it hard to remember which side is which. But it also means that it’s often very difficult for me to get started on anything, as I have both sides pulling equally…

The first chapter of the book explains, in a chatty way, how anxieties and stresses about writing go back centuries; yet, in the scheme of human development over the millennia, writing is a very new skill. It points out how for some adults, writing was taught in quite a negative way, full of corrections. This is in stark contrast to the way that children learn to speak, where parents and carers encourage all attempts at language, no matter how flawed. 

Chapter two takes us into what I think of as the heart of the book: what the author calls ‘Rapidwriting’. The idea is to allocate ten minutes (with a timer, if necessary) then sit and write (or type) without correcting anything. The idea is to stimulate the creative side of our minds, while letting the more structured, critical editor take a rest. I’ve done this before, and I did it for several days while reading this book. It’s fine to produce rubbish, the author assures us. Most artists, composers or other creators have far more that is thrown away than ever reaches the public.

And she’s right: after three or four days writing things that went nowhere (based on some writing prompts I had), I started writing something that I knew, instinctively, would be a reasonable short story. Of course one then needs to find other time to expand, and then edit anything that’s going somewhere, and this is where the other, editorial side of the brain comes in. We’re told that all too often this editor is critical and can stop creativity before it ever gets going. But if we invite it to look at our work, it is helpful (essential, in fact) to turn the ideas into high quality writing.

The author mentions a ‘wall’ that we’re likely to reach during rapidwriting, but at other times too. Hitting the wall is something more often experienced by runners or climbers, who must push through to finish. And it involves total exhaustion. With writing it’s obviously more psychological than physical. But there seems to be truth in the concept, even so. I would also endorse the suggestion that pushing through and continuing is likely to lead to something even better than what has gone before.

There’s a lot more in the book too, some of it quite prescriptive. The author recommends a ‘progress log’ where we chart everything we do, whether or not we think a piece of writing has a future. I did start this, but it soon felt like a chore and I couldn’t see that it was particularly constructive.

Not everything was relevant to me, and perhaps ironically I hit something of a wall about two-thirds of the way through the book. I put it aside for a couple of weeks before deciding to finish it; at that point I didn’t do any more exercises or even rapidwriting (though I hope to get back to that in the new year). But I did take in some useful pointers that I hadn’t remembered, such as the need for a piece of writing to end well, with some explanations about what that means in practice.

There’s perhaps too much about visualisation in the book, something which simply isn’t possible for those of us who don’t ‘see’ images in our minds. I didn’t like the suggestion of a ‘spirit guide’ at the end, either. But overall, I thought this an excellent book and, in places, quite inspiring. Not everything will apply to everyone, but if you’re feeling stuck or stressed about writing (fiction or non-fiction, for leisure or for work) then this book can provide some excellent insights and positive ways to move forward.

As a slight aside, I do find myself slightly puzzled by the use of the preposition 'in' in the book's title.  I would have used 'with', since a literal interpretation of the title is rather disturbing. But that only occurred to me recently, so perhaps it doesn't matter. 

Recommended. 

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