Natalie Goldberg

Writing Down the Bones is writing advice disguised as a Zen manual, or possibly the other way around. Goldberg's project as a writing instructor is to unleash your voice as an author. To do this, you have to get yourself into a particular kind of mindspace where you're as close to the universe as possible, and then let the words bubble up. The rules of language, syntax, grammar, spelling, your inner editor, are all obstacles in finding your voice. Make writing your practice, practice daily show more (but not in a chore-like obligatory way), and the hot words will come. And once you have some hot words, the step is to cut away everything but, to leave only the powerful truth.

There are some things I like. Goldberg's argument is radically democratic, anyone can be a writer, even to the point of outsider art. Writing should be a healing process, away from the torment of writer's block.

My caveats are that the book consists of short anecdotal sections, and only about half of them really hit for me. There's a lot of redundancy and things falling short. The second caveat is that Goldberg's advice is really tilted towards certain kinds of writing; poems, memoirs, auto-biographical short stories. More heavily crafted or plotted forms may require more structure than Zen. But she's essentially right on two key points, writer's have to write, and good voice can make up for many flaws. show less

What does Zen Buddhism have to do with writing? Natalie Goldberg asked the same question of her roshi (Zen Master). She had gravitated toward Zen mediation for self-discovery and to process the things in her life that were at loose ends. But she had a difficult time with meditation. The rosit suggested that she use writing as a Zen practice. The world opened up for Goldberg in a surprising way with the suggestion.

[Writing Down the Bones] is part prompt book, part philosophy, and part show more journal. Goldberg uses two to four pages to tackle a topic that would be important to a writer – like detail or syntax or topic. Then, she launches into an encouraging and instructive meditation on the topic. Her advice is common sense and not at all yogic, if you’re worried that you don’t want to have to grab a mat and light a candle. It’s writing and life that she wants to expose in each reader’s soul.

Among the most helpful sections were those on learning how to develop confidence and trust in the writing ability. Every writer, almost by definition, is plagued with self-doubt, but she preaches to embrace the practice of writing with regard only for what you express and what you learn about yourself in the process. Like David Morrell did, in [Lessons from a Lifetime of Writing: A Novelist Looks at His Craft], she sees writing as a doorway to self-understanding and discovery – you only have to engage the practice.

I can’t recommend this book highly enough for anyone who is already writing or who wants to write. I gifted a copy to a writing friend this Christmas, in hopes that it would mean as much to him as it has to me. Sometimes I read a few pages as a way to get in the right mindset to write. Sometimes the section I read spoke directly to the doubts I was having that very minute. [Writing Down the Bones] is an invaluable resource.

Bottom Line: The writing life, and life in general, through a Zen Buddhist lens.

5 bones!!!!!
A favorite for the year!!!!! show less

"People would rather read about how to become a writer than read the actual products of writing: poems, novels, short stories," says Natalie Goldberg in the opening chapter of this, her third and, I think best, memoir. Her first two bestsellers, Writing Down the Bones and Wild Mind, are disguised as how to books for aspiring writers, so she should know what she is talking about when she says this, laughing all the way to the bank. Perhaps reading about how to write is related to watching show more cooking shows on television while ordering takeout. The idea of cooking, the idea of writing are appealing. The hard work, not so much.

In Long Quiet Highway Goldberg goes into much more detail about her journey from her Long Island childhood to a career as a writing coach in New Mexico and as a student of Zen Buddhism in, of all places, Minneapolis. She talks about her writing practice and teaching methods without prescribing them and ties her methods in to her meditation practice and study with Dainin Katagiri Roshi at the Minnesota Zen Meditation Center.


There is a great contrast between Goldberg's exposition of the practice and the benefits of Zen meditation and the "ancient secrets" that Dan Brown describes in his novel The Lost Symbol. Granted, Brown's book is fiction and deals with the Judeo Christian tradition, yet when Goldberg describes her exploration of Judaism, she finds a direct similarity to what she was taught by Katagiri, not some kabbalistic mumbo jumbo. The inner peace and sense of belonging in the world, the rightness, that she discovers in the zendo, is the same thing that she finds in the ritual practices of Judaism. Neither is easy, though. Both take a lot of work.

Just do your practice for it's own sake, just be who you are with no expectation of reward, these are the lessons Goldberg brings to her book. The hard work, to her, is it's own reward. Getting up a four in the morning to walk six blocks to the Zen center in mid Minnesota winter and sit on a wood floor. This is her work and she learns to love it. Sitting down every day for several hours with a pen and a notebook and putting words down on the pages without pre-judgment is also her work. Somehow Goldberg makes books happen this way but you'll need to read the other two books to learn how.

More reviews at http://residentreader.blogspot.com show less

I don’t know if every writer is insecure, but this one is, and sometimes needs an encouraging prod to keep going. That is Natalie Goldberg’s great strength. I kept this book close while working on a project recently, and whenever I felt the urge to take a break for “just one” hand of solitaire, I picked Goldberg’s book up instead and read one of its short chapters (the fact that there are sixty of them in 170 pages gives you an idea of how short).
There are many small details in the show more book that remain with me, for instance, the image of the compost heap that we draw on as we write. Two of the main takeaways seem, on the surface, contrary. One is Goldberg’s recommendation to dive into the loneliness that is part of every writer’s existence. To observe it, to describe it.
The other is the degree to which writing is a communal activity. Goldberg talks of having a writing partner, making a date to sit in a cafe and write. Or of writing workshops that meet weekly for eight weeks. The routine she uses is to have participants write for short, set times, then read aloud. What makes Goldberg’s workshops different from writing courses I’ve taken is that no one comment on the texts after they are read aloud. Not even an “I know what you mean.” The desire to react after hearing the texts read then flows as energy into the next writing segment.
This is not the only good book on writing. It doesn’t offer much insight into how to transform your outpourings from self-expression into texts that others will enjoy reading. But you can’t publish a polished text until you’ve written something. This book will help you do that. Let Goldberg sit beside you, hold your free hand, and get your other hand, the one that holds your pen, get moving. show less