Writing and Survival Skills

When a student came for tutoring last week, she took out a folder as she searched for the essay she wanted to work on. I glanced at the red folder on the table and was struck by what she had written on it in thick black marker:

Writing & Survival Skills.

Huh. There was talk in some of my MFA workshops of writing as a survival skill, writing as a way of coping with trauma or mental health issues. And many of our workshops turned into therapy sessions for some of us.

Indeed, the first summer after my dad died unexpectedly, I channeled my grief into every writing prompt my undergrad professor threw at us. A strong response to music? My dad's funeral. Writing about the body? My dad's enormous body in a coma in a tiny hospital bed. A short narrative about myself? My connection with my dad through our shared love of tattoos.

All these essays were more therapy than literature, though I still think some of them are quite good. And I still—six years later—have a strong urge to keep writing about my dad, if only to keep alive the feeling that he is still part of my everyday world.

When I saw that title on that student's folder, I wondered if she realized how philosophical that particular grouping of words was for me. Most likely, she didn't. For her, they are simply two classes she is taking this semester. They are nothing more than two sets of assignments for the folder's two pockets, two schedules to keep straight, two hoops to jump through on her way to a degree.

I imagine she never gives those words or their relationship to each other any thought at all. For me, however, writing and surviving are almost synonymous. My day-job, after all, is tutoring writing. Insomuch as one's job is one's survival, I live on writing.

Joan Didion said that she writes to understand what she thinks about the world. Stephen King called writing a form of magic.

I often think of writing as a chore or obligation, like scooping the poop out of the cat box every day. If I don't do it, I'll eventually have to deal with an even bigger mess.

Even this post I'm writing right now is a kind of survival. I don’t really have anything to say, but I know that if I don't write anything, I'll have an even bigger mess in my head the next time I sit down to write.

Also, I'm avoiding studying for the Arabic quiz I have on Thursday.

Survival, obligation, avoidance: they're all just ways of scooping the poop out of the litter to avoid or prepare for the bigger messes life always seems to have in store for us.

So don't judge me too harshly, either about this post or about my poor study habits. I'm merely practicing my writing and survival skills.