Whenever I try to find the words to explain what it feels like to write, I come up empty. I am aware of the irony of not having the words to describe the process of spilling words, especially in a book about writing, but that’s how it is.
I write, but sometimes it feels like I am written. It’s as if the edges of my self dissolve, and the words enter where my skin used to be.
I’m at my friend Kyōko’s house in snow country, legs crossed beneath the heated kotatsu table looking out at the rice fields behind her home. Everything is white. It is so different from the silver of the mirrored paddy flooded just a few months ago. I hear gurgling as Kyōko pushes down on the lid of the plastic water pot, then offers me a cup of green tea. I hold it with both hands to warm them. Since the tsunami they heat only one room in the house. The cloud of steam dissipates, merging with the whiteness beyond. The snow, the steam, the memory of the flooded rice paddy, it’s all there framed in Kyōko’s window, and suddenly I have a realisation about writing which makes everything make sense.
Here’s my theory. Writing exists in three different states, which mirror the properties of water: the gaseous state, the liquid state and the solid state. When we understand this, and learn to work with each state of writing, we can write without fear the majority of the time.
Writing is a formless animate being with its own spirit, which works with you to release chaos and beauty onto the page. At least that’s what it feels like to me. We cannot fully describe it, because it does not have a fixed form. All we can really do is be with it, and work with it as it shifts between these various states. We become paralysed by fear when we treat all writing the same, but by acknowledging these different writing states we can confine our various fears to one state or another, not allowing them all to flood our writing space all the time.
Let me explain.
Gaseous-state writing
is what happens when we take note
of the mind chatter
and write it out of the head
onto the page.
Gaseous-state writing, also known as journalling, is largely a release of the past onto the page – memory, regret, burdens we have been carrying – often mixed in with the dusty chaff of day-to-day life – shopping lists, to-do lists, all the other lists. We write in this way to process feelings, make a decision, or to empty a busy mind onto the page. Gaseous-state writing is for our eyes only. We serve this state as operator and scribe.
Liquid-state writing
is what happens when we focus deeply
and open up to retrieve words and ideas
from the wild place
beyond our everyday tangle of thoughts.
Liquid-state writing is the fluid territory of metaphor, poetry and intuition. It is where we behold the world and attempt to write about it. Liquid-state writing needs to be treated with care. We may recognise its wild beauty and be tempted to share it too soon. We serve this state as witness and channel.
Solid-state writing
is what happens when we consciously use the mind
to structure,
restructure,
edit and shape
our words.
Solid-state writing starts with a piece of our own work, which we whittle, sculpt and polish. We write this way to inform, instruct, educate or tell a story in a way that someone else can take in. This kind of writing is interested in the intentional crafting of sentences, paragraphs, essays, entire manuscripts. Ultimately, solid-state writing is destined for others. It is where a keyboard is invaluable – necessary even to turn the text on the page into something we can send out into the world. It is the only kind of writing that benefits from feedback from a select group of relevant people. We serve this state as artisan and editor.
I have heard some teachers dismiss gaseous-state writing because ‘It’s just journalling’ and noticed a tendency to worship solid-state writing, hence our learned perfectionism which actually gets in the way of most of the work we need to do. The liquid state, where much of our best, most truthful writing happens, is rarely taught.
But when I am working on a book I tend to spend around 10 per cent of my time on gaseous-state writing, 60 per cent on liquid-state writing and 30 per cent on solid-state writing. All of the matter.
These are states, not stages. Which state you write in on any given day depends on how you are feeling and what you are working on. You can experience more than one state in a single session. You might warm up with one, then move on to another, or naturally find your writing switching between them. There is no right or wrong. All three states have a role to play, and together they help us to free the mind and open up the channel to write from a deep place, and then prepare that work for sharing with the world.
Awareness of these three states of writing can transform the way we deal with fear
Pondering form
and formlessness
is a way to transcend
our conditioning about
what we should be,
how and what we should write,
and what is possible for us
in writing
and in life.
This is the essence of writing, I think. To honour, and attend to, both the formlessness of our creative potential and the form of our written words.
The further our writing is from a fixed form – in the gaseous and liquid states – the less we have to doubt and fear because it is not meant to be shared, yet. The closer it is to a fixed form – in the solid state – the more we have to shift from creation to curation (and heart preparation) as we ready our work for the outside world.
Gaseous-state writing is not intended for sharing with anyone else, so there is no need to be afraid of what people will think.
Liquid-state writing is supposed to be spilt onto the page without any editing, so there is no need to be afraid of quality.
Solid-state writing begins with a piece of existing work, so there is no need to be afraid of a blank page.
In this three-essay series I’d like to share a little more about each state, to help you connect with the spirit of writing in each one, starting with gaseous-state writing here in Part One, and moving onto liquid-state writing and solid-state writing in Parts Two and Three, to follow in the coming weeks.
Gaseous-state writing
To enter gaseous-state writing we simply watch our thoughts arrive and write them down without judgement. The way in could not be more simple: open your notebook, observe what you are thinking, write it down. If it helps, listen to the meditation included at the top of this essay, and let the words come.
Gaseous-state writing is an uncontrolled release of stuff onto the page, usually written by hand. It is full of feelings and the analysis of those feelings. It’s a kind of cleansing. Gaseous-state writing helps us to understand what needs processing and healing, and to use our words to do that. We can also use it to figure out a problem or consider options within a dilemma.
Just like steam, our thoughts expand to fill the container of the mind, which can make it hard to concentrate and create. Gaseous-state writing offers the page as an alternative container for those thoughts, which helps us to free the mind. When we see a thought pattern arising or an old story bubbling up, we can write it out of our heads. In this state the words move rapidly, often jumping from one topic to another. The scribbles on paper might lack form and structure, as disorderly strings of words rush in all directions. That’s fine. It’s not supposed to be neat and tidy.
Gaseous-state writing has three simple rules:
Allow everything. Write anything. Share nothing.
Gaseous-state writing tends towards the documentation of events, memories, feelings, worries, regrets and burdens as they arise. There is immense value in this for calming the mind, making decisions, healing and later reflection. Everything we write is, in some way, based on what we have witnessed, heard, felt or experienced, whether personally or at a distance. The more we pay attention to what is actually happening in our lives, the more material we have to help us imagine what could happen, which gives us stories and ideas for the page. In this way gaseous-state writing can also help to feed the imagination.
If you only do one thing inspired by this discussion of gaseous-state writing, make it that you keep your notebook in your bag and write something in it every day, letting any judgement fall away as you do so.
You can find out more about gaseous state writing in my book The Way of the Fearless Writer. Stay tuned for upcoming essays about liquid-state writing and solid-state writing, and watch yourself become a fearless writer.
For now, I leave you with this…
To enter gaseous-state writing:
Observe your thoughts. Don’t judge.
Write them down. See what comes.
PS If you want to build your confidence in writing and sharing in a supportive environment, you might just love my private writing community SoulCircle, hosted here on Substack. With weekly writing inspiration, bi-seasonal Live Writing Circles, quarterly Q&As on all aspects of the writing life and twice-yearly virtual writing retreats, as well as access to a gorgeous community of writerly friends from across the world, it’s the loveliest place to spread your writing wings. To join just upgrade to paid or click here and choose Monthly to try it out or Annual to get a lovely discount.
Beth Xx
NOTES:
This is an adapted extract taken from my book The Way of the Fearless Writer. All editions (hardback, ebook and audiobook) come with access to a complementary album of meditations to inspire your own writing. The meditation offered at the beginning of this essay first appeared on that album. May these offerings help many words to flow from deep within.
The audio at the top of this essay is a meditation to accompany this essay. It is not a voiceover version of the written text. Please do have a listen and enjoy it.
This essay is part of a series about how understanding the ‘three states of writing’ can help us write fearlessly. Stay tuned for Parts Two and Three, coming soon.
Image Holly Bobbins
