Ethan Gilsdorf on Zooming In and Lingering: “In personal essay, memoir and creative nonfiction, we want to bring to our pages a sense of verisimilitude, of intruding upon someone else’s circumstances, of grasping someone else’s fleeting take on the world.” How to do this? Gilsdorf suggests: “The language of cinematography is a useful analogy: in a wide or medium shot, the viewer is distant from the subject; in close-ups and extreme close-ups, the frame of reference is tight. In writing, this means: rather than quickly cutting away, or keeping the viewer far removed, like a drone hovering high above, we can zoom in on the subject of our attention, or pan across it, slowly. We can train our writerly efforts to pause. To not skip over— but to linger, loiter, dawdle, stay put, wait.” Excerpted from “Stay a Little Bit Longer: The Art of Zooming In and Lingering,” The Brevity…
Tag: The Brevity Blog
Fast Drafting
Zarien Hsu Gee offers “fast drafting” as a creative process: Fast drafting is a way to break through creative paralysis, to see what might be possible with an idea or writing project. When you commit to writing fast without judgment, you bypass the inner critic that can slow your progress to a crawl or even prevent you from moving forward at all. The beauty of fast drafting lies in its imperfection. By calling it a “fast draft,” you free yourself from the expectation of perfectionism. You accept fast drafting as a necessary creative process in order to move forward with your work, and your expectations for its literary genius is low. Your goal is just to get it all down. The fast draft also serves as confidence booster. It reminds you that you can write this story, this novel, this memoir. When you write fast enough to outrun judgment, your…
See The Scene
Kasey Butcher Santana describes a scene about her “outdoor classroom.” “My science teacher uses a ruler and twine to mark a square-foot box in the damp blanket of leaves covering the ‘outdoor classroom.’ My task today is to observe this small patch. Part of a log has fallen within the boundaries, and I note the moss that grows on it and the bugs that seek shelter under its flaking bark. We return once a month to note how this woodland square changes with the seasons and maybe even write a poem. I do not remember completing this assignment, but I recall the crisp smell of forest floor, the slip of mud beneath my shoes, and the surprise of a roly-poly beneath the log.” Excerpted from How a Box in the Woods Taught Me to Write About Nature by Kasey Butcher Santana on the April 2, 2025 Brevity Blog. Can you…