The Collective Brain

Long ago and far away, when I did my student teaching, I worked with children who’d been identified as having emotional problems. One day a young student refused to enter the classroom. As we chatted through the doorway in hopes that he would commit to joining the class, he looked up at me and said, “You’ve got brain-suckers all over your head.”

Hmmm.

I am currently teaching a class on Writing for Children for UCSD Extension. This week we had our first in class critiques/workshop. Oh, the joy and terror! 

When I first started this writing journey, I joined a critique group. It was a lovely group of people – one of whom is still a dear friend and critique partner – and it was held in a home very unlike mine: peaceful, filled with breakable lovelies, child-free… We had excellent conversations and delicious snacks and I always left eager to get back to writing.

But, I DREADED it every single time.

About a week prior I would start to think of excuses as to why I couldn’t possibly go. My husband might have to work late that night or I was most likely getting sick, the kids would miss me, the dog looked a little green around the gills, the bathrooms needed scrubbing… And yet, somehow, someway, I dragged myself there. And had a lovely inspiring time.

It is hard to get and give feedback. And yet, oh so crucial.

Nowadays I need my surrogate brains. I depend on the collective group think. My critique group serves this role most frequently – our meetings are something I look forward to (most of the time). But I tap into other brains as well. My friends from VCFA are some of the most brilliant brains I could ever latch on to. Even better are their hearts. And we have known each other (and our writing) for long enough that they often know what I am trying to say in my stories before I do.

I have become a brain-sucker.

In fact, my brilliant mentor Rita Williams-Garcia once said in an email, “Every time I lose a brain cell I check to see if there’s a Sarah tube siphoning off what little noodle I have left.”

And yet… there is also time to do the work on my own. To let my brain do what it can. I’ve shared a bit of my new WIP with friends, but now I need to retreat and pull back. It needs a little more alone time.

Feeling grateful that the collective brain will be there when I’m ready.

Sarah Tomp

WRITING ON THE SIDEWALK

 

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