What is Writing? – The Work of Lynda Barry

Knowledge is power, and reading is the main way to gain knowledge.  This is something that was instilled in me from a young age.  And though throughout my childhood, reading took hard work, I became an avid reader.  I loved that reading took me away from my suburban life and transported me to so many different places and experiences. Reading made me a writer.  Reading made me more and more curious.  Reading begot more and more reading.  It was a happy contagion.

Last week, I came across fellow blogger, Vivian Chen’s post about the book, Syllabus by Linda Barry.  I trust Vivian’s taste and recommendations, so I immediately bought the book, and being a bibliophile, I also bought two other books by Barry: What It is and Comics.  When the books arrived, I was like a kid opening a present.  I couldn’t wait to sit down and read.  I chose Barry’s first book, What It Is in hardcover.  I moved my fingers over the images, words, and designs on the front cover.  I knew that I was going to love this book.  I sat on the edge of my bed and started to read. On the fifth page, I read this:

I laughed and laughed.  I laugh out loud from the belly.  It felt good.  My husband, who was in the other room asked what I was laughing about.  I said I was laughing at myself because that’s how Barry made me feel – as if her words reflected my exact thoughts.  Lynda Barry was born in 1956.  We are the same age, and much of what she writes had a strong connection for me.  As I read her words and looked at her images, I felt like I was looking at my own thoughts, regrets, desires, and imagination.  I read the book voraciously, not wanting to stop.  I viewed every page from different angles turning the book to read and look at words and pictures that were presented vertically or upside down.  I wanted to take in all of Barry’s world.  I wanted to answer all the questions Barry proposed:

It was amazing to me how Barry created ideas, narratives, and images that made her readers think and wonder. Her writing and drawing worked together in a kind of dance and came together in such a unique way. She told the story of her childhood, her process of becoming an artist, and the way she creates.  It is a very honest and generous account.  The last fifty pages or so of the book is an invitation to write and draw and imagine.  I love her writing prompts.  They are sparse and dense at the same time.  There is only questioning and prompting without any judgement.

Over the years, I have attempted writing in journals and drawing in sketchbooks. I always kept the words and drawings separate.  I wonder why that is.  I think I’m so much more comfortable with my writing.  I can take more risks with writing.  But my drawings?  No.  My drawing stay in a tight safe space.  My drawing are at about the 5^th grade level.  My drawings bring out the harshest critic in me.  Of course, my young students think I’m an amazing artist.  But I know the truth.  I’m an imposter.  I can’t draw noses or hands.  I’ve tried.  They never look realistic.  I used to be more courageous in art: mixing colors and shapes, letting my brush wander.  But now I keep a tight grip, hold my pen firm, and try to make beauty.  Ha!  Beauty.  I fail.  I can hear Barry’s voice now: “Joanne, come on!  Don’t give up. Stop thinking. Stop editing and just write and draw.  It doesn’t have to be anything.  Take a chance.” Hmmm…. She sounds like I sound when I talk to my students.  I can encourage them just fine.  It’s my self that I have trouble encouraging. 

After I plowed through What It Is, I woke up in the middle of the night, went to Amazon and ordered a yellow composition book, the kind Barry uses.  I smacked down my inner critic and let my imagination flow:

This work of writing, drawing, and creating is so important.  I want to continue to cultivate it in myself and in my work with students.  I’m sure they can teach me a thing or two!