I remember the School Lunch chapter from the very first time I read this book. I didn't get it. Maybe I still don't. Lamott says school lunches are full of the same longings and dynamics and anxieties for everyone, even if the school setting is different.
Well, maybe it's an East Coast/West Coast thing, but the experiences she writes about – what was acceptable (bologna, pb&J) mattered and you were ostracized for bringing smelly, wrong things (which often happened if your father made your sandwich)—those didn't bring any sense of recognition for me. I remember basically zero about elementary school lunch period.
I went to a middle-size public high school in Wilmington, Delaware. I remember only eating two clementines for lunch my entire junior year of high school determined to get skinny. Senior year, I hung out with the 'cool kids' in the smoking court or played cards in the senior lounge during lunch period. I honestly don't remember feeling very angsty about lunch period and I have very little memory of what anyone else ate.
Lamott gives the school lunch assignment to her writing classes, and they created so much material that they had to reduce it to just what was in your sandwich. Again, I didn't relate. I was never a sandwich girl (still am not).
I was jealous of the kids who could buy their lunches. They were much cooler (in my prepubescent mind) than those of us who schlepped our lunches from home.
My children felt the same way and begged to buy their lunch. I don't have to tell you what garbage is in the school lunch (chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese AND a roll!). I fought the battle hard and eventually compromised at allowing them to buy their lunch six times a month.
Anyway, I think the point is to assign a topic that everyone can write about just to get the writing muscles working. But maybe it was also to show that writing your particular version of a universal situation is what creates impactful writing. People need to relate to you in order to 'hear' what you're saying.
If you got something different out of the School Lunch Chapter, I'd love to hear it.
Chapter five, Polaroids, was more about that shitty first draft.
"Writing a first draft is very much like watching a Polaroid develop. You can't – and, in fact, you're not supposed to—know exactly what the picture is going to look like until it has finished developing."
That's why you have to keep writing and not give in to the voice inside your head that is always asking, "What the heck are you trying to say? This makes no sense! No one would read this. Where is this story going?"
You have to let the polaroid develop. The picture gets clearer, slowly. The bigger stuff comes into focus and then the little details—the ones that will ultimately matter most.
Don't expect to be able to see it all. Even if you're one of those rigid plotters, let go of this need to understand what you're writing as you write it. Let the words free. Let them drop onto the page, even if they're ugly or wrong or make no sense at the moment.
I think the very best thing you can do for any piece of writing is walk away. Leave it to develop and go on about your life. Come back a week later, or a month later, you'll be able to see what you've got. The ink will be dry and you'll be far enough away to see clearly what is working and what is not.
Lamott/Achterberg WRITING ADVICE MASHUP: Write, write, write without censor; and then wait, wait, wait for that polaroid to develop.
Hey, thanks for reading. I know you've got lots of options, so thanks for sharing a few of your minutes with me.
Honored,
Cara
If you're curious about what else I'm up to, check out my website, CaraWrites.com.
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My latest novel, Blind Turn is a mother-daughter story of forgiveness in the aftermath of a fatal texting and driving accident. It won the Womens Fiction category of the American Writing Awards in 2022. Learn more about it and find out how to get your copy here.
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