WRITING.
WRITING, or COMPOSING, is one of the best exercises of the mind. It is,
however, I am sorry to say, an exercise to which young people generally
show a great aversion. One reason, perhaps, is, that, to write well,
requires _hard thinking_. But I am inclined to think the chief reason
is, that the difficulties of writing are magnified. There is, also,
a want of wisdom in the choice of subjects. Themes are frequently
selected for first efforts, which require deep, abstract thinking; and
the mind not being able to grasp them, there is a want of thought,
which discourages new beginners. The first attempts should be made upon
subjects that are easy and well understood; such as a well-studied
portion of history, a well-known story, or a description of some
familiar scene; the object being to clothe it in suitable language,
and to make such reflections upon it as occur to the mind. Writing is
but _thinking on paper_; and if you have any thoughts at all, you may
commit them to writing.
Another fault in young beginners is, viewing composition as a _task_
imposed on them by their teachers, and making it their chief object
to cover a certain quantity of paper with writing; and so the sooner
this task is discharged the better. But you must have a higher aim than
this, or you will never be a good writer. Such efforts are positively
injurious. They promote a careless, negligent habit of writing. One
well-written composition, which costs days of hard study, is worth
more, as a discipline of mind, than a hundred off-hand, careless
productions. Indeed, one good, successful effort will greatly diminish
every succeeding effort, and make writing easy. You will do well, then,
first to select your subject some time before you write, and think it
over and study it, and have your ideas arranged in your mind before
you begin. Then write with care, selecting the best expressions, and
clothing your thoughts in the best dress. Then carefully and repeatedly
read it over, and correct it, studying every sentence, weighing every
expression, and making every possible improvement. Then lay it aside
awhile, and afterwards copy it, with such improvements as occur at the
time. Then lay it aside, and after some days revise it again, and see
what further improvements and corrections you can make, and copy it a
second time. If you repeat this process half a dozen times, it will be
all the better. Nor will the time you spend upon it be lost. One such
composition will conquer all the difficulties in the way of writing;
and every time you repeat such an effort, you will find your mind
expanding, and your thoughts multiplying, so that, very soon, writing
will become an easy and delightful exercise; and you will, at length,
be able to make the first draught so nearly perfect that it will not
need copying. But you never will make a good writer by off-hand,
careless efforts.
_Letter-writing_, however, is a very different affair. Its beauty
consists in its simplicity, ease, and freedom from formality. The best
rule that can be given for letter-writing is, to imagine the person
present whom you are addressing, and write just what you would say in
conversation. All attempts at effort, in letter-writing, are out of
place. The detail of particulars, such as your correspondent would
be interested to know, and the expression of your own feelings, are
the great excellences of this kind of writing. Nothing disappoints
a person more than to receive a letter full of fine sentiments, or
didactic matter, such as he might find in books, while the very
information which he desired is left out, and perhaps an apology at the
close for not giving the news, because the sheet is full. In a letter,
we want _information of the welfare of our friends_, together with
the warm gush of feeling which fills their hearts. These are the true
excellences of epistolary writing.