Writing down the bones: Freeing the writer within, by Natalie Goldberg, is a classic text that gets mentioned a lot in relation to free-writing. Goldberg’s book, first published in 1986, advocates an approach to writing that integrates writing in life. Presented as a series of short vignettes about writing, Goldberg writes in first-person, inviting readers into her personal life as a writer. Just as Jon Kabat-Zinn, long-time advocate for mindfulness reminds us that “wherever you go, there you are”, Goldberg reminds us that whatever we do and wherever we go provides the raw materials for writing.
Goldberg entitles her vignettes to draw our attention:
- Man eats car
- Baking a cake
- Writing is not a McDonald’s hamburger
- Nervously sipping wine
- One plus one equals a Mercedes-Benz.
She takes readers into the diners where she writes and introduces us to the work of her students in writing workshops and classes. Throughout the book, Goldberg quotes her meditation teacher, Katagiri Roshi. For Goldberg, life is writing; writing is life.
Reading this book again after being first introduced to it decades ago was like stepping into a time machine. There was a day when I did write with a pen and paper—I then typed up what I had written using a typewriter. With the transition to computers, it’s decades since I used a typewriter, and like most readers, no longer own one. Now I rarely put pen to paper unless writing to-do lists on sticky notes, or writing notes in a notebook at a meeting when I do not feel like taking a laptop.
And with the introduction of tools powered by artificial intelligence (ChatGPT, Bard, and so forth), it will be interesting to see how our writing practices change in the future. I’ve recently been conversing with ChatGPT to see what it “writes”. Considering these tools operate by predicting word sequences from scanning large bodies of text, does that count as writing? I’m not entirely sure. Maybe it is better described as text generation.
I asked ChatGPT to write a short vignette on “Baking a cake” (one of Goldberg’s titles) in the style of Natalie Goldberg. This is what it generated:
Title: “Whisked Delights”
As I stood in my cozy kitchen, surrounded by the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the promise of a sweet culinary adventure, I felt an irresistible urge to bake a cake. Baking, to me, was an art form—a harmonious dance of ingredients and intuition, weaving together flavors, textures, and memories. With a determined smile, I rolled up my sleeves, ready to embark on my latest confectionery creation.
My kitchen transformed into a symphony of motion as I gathered the necessary tools—measuring cups, mixing bowls, and an array of vibrant ingredients that awaited their grand transformation. The flour, like soft snow, fell gracefully into the bowl, followed by the gentle tap-tap of sugar and the aromatic essence of vanilla. Each ingredient, carefully selected, added its unique voice to the culinary chorus.
I reached for the eggs, their delicate shells cradled in my hands. With each crack, a breath of anticipation filled the air. As the golden yolks spilled into the mixture, they whispered tales of richness and decadence, promising a symphony of flavors. The whisk, my trusted partner, embraced the ingredients, twirling them into a harmonious union.
The batter, velvety and smooth, whispered secrets of the transformation that awaited it within the warmth of the oven. I poured it into the waiting pan, which embraced the mixture like a loving hug, ready to witness the magic that would unfold. The oven door closed, sealing the promise of sweet indulgence.
Time danced by, seconds turning to minutes, and minutes to moments of anticipation. The kitchen filled with the heavenly aroma of a cake nearing completion, gently tingling the senses. Finally, the oven door swung open, revealing a masterpiece—a golden delight, perfectly risen and adorned with a dusting of powdered sugar.
In that moment, I realized that baking a cake was not just about following a recipe; it was about the journey. It was about infusing every step with passion, creativity, and a sprinkle of love. As I sliced into the cake, its tender crumb whispering against the knife, I knew that this creation would be more than a treat—it would be a delicious reminder of the joy and artistry that reside within the simplest of acts.
Oh my! Lots of mixed metaphors there, and a saccharine take on baking (life), no?
Goldberg’s story is actually not about baking a cake, but about how elements of baking a cake can be applied to the act of writing. She encourages writers to include details. “Details”, Goldberg writes, are the “basic unit of writing.” She adds:
And in using them, you are not only baking cakes and buzzing around the oven. In writing with detail, you are turning to face the world. It is a deeply political act, because you are not just staying in the heat of your own emotions. You are offering up some good solid bread for the hungry.
Natalie Goldberg, 1986, p. 47
Can ChatGPT provide “good solid bread for the hungry”? I’m not yet convinced. I imagine that ChatGPT and other tools like it are currently generating millions of words of text, and will keep doing so into the future (or until the next collapse of the electricity grid). Give me a flesh and blood author any day. And maybe a pen and paper. Writers, please create good solid bread for your readers.
Kathy Roulston
Goldberg, N. (1986). Writing down the bones: Freeing the writer within. Shambhala.
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