Genius-and-the-Craftsman

GeniusandtheCraftsmanManypeopleadmirewritersfortheirexquisitestories,butfewofthemknowwithwhatpainstakingeffortswritersworktobringastoryintotheworld.Thefollowingessaydiscussestheprocessofconceivingastoryanddevelopingitintoaperfectworkofart.OnceontheedgeofawoodsattwilightIcameuponasmallpeachtreeinflower.Istayedtherewatchinguntilthelightwasgone.Isawnothingofthetree'sorigin,nothingofthemightwhichhadforcedopenapityoucouldbreakyourteethon,andnothingoftheprinciplewhichhelditseparatefromtheoaksandthegrasses.Allthatappearedtomewasaprofoundandeeriegrace.Soitiswiththereaderwhocomesuponanoutstandingstory:spellbound,hetakesittohisheart,noquestionasked.Buteventhebeginningwriterknowsthereismoretoastory'slifethanthebodyofwordswhichcarriesitintotheworld,andthatitdoesnotbeginwithwriting,butwithconceptioninthedarkofthemind.Itisnotnecessarytounderstandthecreativefunctioninordertoproduceoriginalwork.Centuriesofart,philosophyandsciencehaveemergedfromthemindsofpeoplewhomaynotevenhavesuspectedtheinnerprocess.Itseemstome,however,thatatleastadegreeofunderstandingofthecreativeeventincreasesourwisdomindealingwiththeemergingstorybymakingusawareoftwothings.First,geniusisnottheexclusivepropertyofthemastercraftsman;itisthecreativefunctionofthehumanmind.Thereisnomasterywithoutit,andthereisnopersonwithoutit,howeverundevelopeditmaybe.Masteryisgeniusafoot.Itisgeniuscultivated,developed,andexercised.Yourgeniusworksattheleveloforigins;itsbusinessistocreate;itisthecreatorofyourstory.Second,thebodyofwordsthatcarriesyourstoryintotheworldistheworkofthecraftsman'slabor,whichisasconscious,ascanny,andaspracticalasthatofthebricklayer.Whilegeniusisanaturalpartofourmentalequipment,likeperception,memory,andimagination,craftsmanshipisnot.Itmustbelearned.Itislearnedbypractice,andbypracticeitismastered.Ifthestoriesthatrisewithinusaretoemergeandflourish,eachmustbeprovidedwithastrong,handsomebodyofwords,andonlysoundcraftsmanshipcanprovidethis.Howisastoryconceived?Itissaidthatwewritefromthefirsttwentyyearsofourlives,perhapsfromthefirstfive;itmaydependontheindividual,assomuchdoesinwriting.Inanycase,thelucidimpressionsofchildhoodandearlyyouth,moreorlessunconditioned,unexplained,unchecked,lieinthememory,liveandtimeless.Enigma,wonder,fear,rapture,grandeur,andtriviaineverydegreeandcombination,theseearlyimpressionsthrobandwaitforwhat?Completionofsomekind?Forrecognitionoftheirownpeculiartruth?Itwouldseemtheirwoundswantlancing;theirsecretknowledgewantstelling;thediscoverieswouldbeshared,andwoesadmitted,andtheairytraceryofbeautygivenform.Thusvariouslyladenwemovethroughlife,andnowandthenanexperience,oftenslight,pricesthememoryandseizesupononeofthoselive,expectantimpressionsoflongage,andaquickening1takesplace.Thishappenstoeveryoneandmoreoftenthanisknown.Buttherearetimeswhenithappenstothecreativewriterandcauseshimtocatchhisbreathbecauseheknowsthattheseedofastoryhasquickenedandhasbegunalifeofitsown.Likeanyseed,theseedofastoryhasitsownprincipleofgrowthwhichemploysaprocessofintelligentselection,drawingfromtheunconsciousmind'svasttreasuryofexperiencethatitneedstofulfillitsinherentform:therecometogetherpeopleandtheirways,withweatherandtimesandplaces,andthesoulsofthings.Inshort,thereisproducedaworld,completewithstarsandstumblingblocks.Thus“madeinsecretandcuriouslywroughtinthelowestpartsoftheearth,”thestoryexpandsandrises,unhurried,untilatlastitpresentsitselftotheconsciousmind.Hereatthethreshold,vibrantwithexpectation,itawaitsitsbodyofwords.Genius,thecreativefunction,hasdoneitswork.Andonlynowdoesthecraftsman,thedeliverer,beginhis.Astoryrarely,ifever,presentsitselfasawhole.RobertFrostsaidthatheneverknewwhereapoemwasgoingwhenhebeganit.UntilIamalmostuponitinafirstdraft,Idonotknowastory'send,orevenitspoint;andtherearetimeswhenonlyaftertwo,threeormoredraftswillthestorycomeclearlyintofocus.YearsagointheearlydawnofanOctobermorning,IwatchedthetinySputnik2cutitsbriefarcacrossthesky.Sometimelater,astoryIknewtobegatheringandrisingpresenteditself:Anoldmanwhohadspentalonelylifeinthedepthofthecityretiredtoahouseonacovenearthesea.Overwhelmedbythebeautyofthecoveandthekindnessofhisneighbors,hebegantoknowthedesperationofthosewhoselivesarealmostover,andwho,foronereasonoranother,havenevergiven,orevenshared,anything.Knowingonlythis,Imovedswiftlyintothefirstdraftandwrote:“ThepeopleofPomeroy'sCovegaveMr.Paradeethesky.Theygaveitalltohim,fromdawntodawnwiththunderheadsandflightsofgeeseandtheredmoonrising.”WhatwasIdoing?Iwroteofacuriousgift:thereweremorecuriousgiftstocome.Imovedintothesky;laterIwouldheadtowardcelestialtraffic.Imarveled,whenIreachedtheend,thatIhadnotknownthewholestoryfromthefirstparagraph:everywordpointedtheway.Butnotknowing,whydidIbegintowrite?WhatwasIdoing?Iwasfulfillingtwoofthecraftsman'sthreefunctions:trust,andthesecond:write.Iwastrustingintheinevitabilityofthestory'sintelligence,itstruth,whateveritmightbe;Iwastrustinginitscompleteness,itsform,wheneveritmightemerge.Bywriting,Iwasallowingit,invitingittoemerge:Iwasprovidingitsvehicle.Forhowelsecoulditemerge?Trustyourgenius.Itisyourcreativ