The Six Perfections of Writing

by Francisco Stork on January 17, 2009

Mahayana Buddhism posits six “paramitas” or “perfections” for enlightenment. These paramitas are “perfections” in the sense of guides or principles one should attempt to perfect as much as possible in this life. These are: giving (or generosity), patience, ethical discipline, enthusiastic (or joyful) effort, concentration and wisdom. It occurred to me that these six perfections, with a little twisting and turning, could be applied to writing (just as writing with a little twisting and turning can be seen as a spiritual path). There are as many motivations for writing and explanations as to why people write as there are writers. These six work well for me.

Giving or Generosity. What can you say about this one? Why write if not to give and to give your best? The thing about writing from a spirit of generosity that is not so obvious is that if the spirit of giving is not in your writing, your writing will not be as good as it could be. It will be superficial and you will not give the reader what he or she most desires. And the reader will not give the work his or her full devotion. There is a connection between “why” you write and “how” you write. If giving is the reason why you write you will reach a depth in your writing that will not be reached if you are motivated by anything else other than the desire to give. Writing that is born out of a desire to give is the writing that lasts.

Patience. Patience is typically associated with not getting angry or frustrated or giving up when things are not going your way. So it is with writing. When the words are not coming, wait. When the plot has reached an unsolvable spot, wait. If after a while there is no resolution, you may need to start again. Patience is knowing the day you start a novel that the first draft is a year away and the finished product maybe two years. It means being okay and kind to yourself when after four hours of work you have maybe one more or less salvageable paragraph.

Ethical Discipline. Everyone knows the connection between plain old discipline and writing, but ethical discipline? It’s clear to me that an alcoholic or a drug addict is not going to produce his best work. These addictions take too much time, for one thing. But maybe it is not so clear that honesty or kindness on the part of the author is necessary for good writing. I think that the writer’s integrity is something that is conveyed to the reader in subtle ways. When we read, we ask ourselves explicitly or implicitly, is this author someone I can trust? Is he or she for life or against life? Integrity, which results when our actions reflect our thoughts, seeps into our writing, it informs our work.

Enthusiastic Effort. We don’t get this type of enthusiasm when we write all the time. Some times we need to start writing with just a plain old sense of duty. But sooner or later, enthusiasm comes and when it comes, you better put up your sail. Enthusiastic effort is not a feeling necessarily, it is a conviction that the expression of your talent is something that you need to do for your sake and others. When the wind is not there, we row. Nevertheless, you need to do what you can to row where the wind currents are most likely to be. For me, enthusiasm and joy in writing always come when I stop being so serious and I look at what I am doing as play, when I become child-like again.

Concentration. Concentration happens when you start having fun with your writing the way it happens when a child plays. You realize you have been concentrating not during but later when you look back and realize three hours have just gone by without you realizing it. This absorption is the most enjoyable aspect of writing. Flannery O’Connor says that the writer loses himself or herself for the sake of the work. She means that the writer puts his or her ego aside and puts the characters and the story first so that, for example, brilliant writing that doesn’t add anything to character or story will need to be tossed. When we truly concentrate, our attention is fully directed at the work, we put the work first, we become the characters we are writing about and there is no room for me.

Wisdom. I see wisdom closely associated with the function of the editor. The editor can be an inner editor or another person, a real editor, if we’re lucky enough to have one we trust. Wisdom has to do with decisions about the work, both logical and intuitive. There are places in the work where we can choose to go in different ways. How do we choose? We can use reason, experience, knowledge and good-taste to make our decisions. Sometimes, however, all we have is an intuitive sense that one way is better than another. This is the part of writing that, paradoxically, is both solitary and communal. You need to dig deep initially to see what your heart tells you and then listen carefully to that person who understands your work and whose judgment you respect and trust.

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