Why I’ve Started Writing Naked.
And other ways to scare house pets.
“Only when the tide goes out do you discover who’s been swimming naked.” Warren Buffett
I never thought much about writing naked before, although sometimes I’ll start writing and realize I’m naked. It’s not intentional. I could just as easily be getting the mail. I’ve done that before, too. It freaks out the dog next door. He thinks I’m a big hairless cat that loves flyers.
But let’s not get hung up on dogs or other house pets. We’re here to talk about the nut of naked writing, how it can improve our skills, and how cold rooms make our winkies practically disappear.
Supposedly, Victor Hugo was naked when he wrote The Hunchback of Notre Dame). He was on a four-week deadline, and that’s what those crazy French do when they have deadlines. They throw off their clothes and write classics.
He had a lot of cats down in Cuba. Imagine if one of them thought Ernie was a scratchpost. Nobody hears you scream in space, but they do in Cuba.
Ernest Hemingway wrote standing up (sometimes naked). Frankly, that’s worse than being French. He had a lot of cats down in Cuba. Imagine if one of them thought Ernie was a scratchpost. Nobody hears you scream in space, but they do in Cuba.
I can understand writing naked in the bathtub. Agatha Christie did —likewise Noel Coward. It was the thing to do in those days, sort of like Post-Impressionists drinking absinthe. Believe me, being naked in a tub is a lot easier on your system than absinthe.
As I understand it, doing anything naked — with the exception of chainsaws — reduces our inhibitions. Picasso once told a young budding artist she should paint in the buff. Her work was staid, and Picasso hated staid artists, so he figured she’d be less inhibited if she was naked. Knowing Picasso, he was all over her like a dirty shirt.
Which brings me back to me, and why I’ve started writing naked. First of all, I need to be less staid with my own work, even if it means turning my genitals into scratchposts. They’ve been scratchposts before. I had a buck rabbit.
Seriously, though, you have to bare yourself to get things out. Not all the time. You’re not Victor Hugo, for chrissakes.
HERE’S WHAT I’VE LEARNED FROM WRITING NAKED
Writing in the buff does help reduce our insecurities, which is a good thing if we’re loaded with insecurities. I have a problem with opening up, for instance. Not that I don’t want to, but I’m always tempted to start an article with: “You’ll laugh at this…” Somehow that makes people think I’m not entirely up to the job. Psychologists say we use humour to hide our insecurities. I use my insecurities to hide my humour. Seriously, though, you have to bare yourself to get things out. Not all the time. You’re not Victor Hugo, for chrissakes.
ONCE YOU’VE BARED YOURSELF
The first thing to keep in mind is that we’re just a bunch of skin, blood and bone. We’re disgraceful examples of ecology. That said, why bring more shame upon ourselves by telling porkies? Frankly our bodies can’t take any more self-loathing. Why not try a little truth for a change. Instead of writing “The Orgy That Changed My Life,” look at yourself naked in the mirror. What you really need to write is “How Haagen-Dazs Changed my life.”
GETTING SOME TRUTH IN OUR WORK
Okay, now that we’ve got subject matter out of the way, it’s time to stop shivering and expand our honesty. Hemingway believed you have to start with one true sentence. I can’t stress this enough, especially if you’re bare-assed on a freezing chair. With one true sentence, you’re well on your way to getting dressed again. I say “on your way” because there’s still serious naked work to do.
With one true sentence, you’re well on your way to getting dressed again.
FINDING YOUR NAKED VOICE
We’ve all heard actors talk about finding their “voice.” It’s very Stanislovskian. Stanislovsky taught actors to use their own life experiences so they wouldn’t come off, well, acting. Writing is no different. Whatever you write must be somehow connected to you. Can you admit that you’re scared, or angry or worried about buck rabbits? Only through naked examination can you put those feelings into your own words.
CREATING A RELATABLE STORY
If your story isn’t relatable, nobody cares if you’re honest or not. Trouble is, most relatable subjects have been done to death. Sex has been done to death, threesomes have been done to death, even squirting has been done to death (including my article: Do Men Really Enjoy Women Squirting?). Stick with subjects other people aren’t writing about. If they don’t end up on P.S. I Love You, so what? At least you aren’t telling porkies nobody believes, anyway.
EDIT YOUR WAY TO HONESTY
One writer the other day (here on Medium) was saying your work doesn’t have to be perfect — or even good. “Just write and build a readership,” he advised. Absolute nonsense. Every article you write should be crafted, meaning it’s edited to death. John Le Carré writes far more simplistically now than he did 20 years ago. When asked about popularity, he called it “a flapping of wings.” Simple words, well thought out, and edited, will always win over…well, horseshit.
John Le Carré writes far more simplistically now than he did 20 years ago. When asked about popularity, he called it “a flapping of wings.”
THE THREE-FINGER RULE
Most journalists think paragraphs must be long and flowing. Most non-journalists think they need to write like journalists. Again, absolute nonsense. Never underestimate the attention span of your reader (which is on par with the freaked out dog next door). To achieve true brevity in your writing, use the three-finger rule. Hold three fingers together horizontally over a paragraph. Anything that extends beyond these fingers is…well, horseshit.
WRITE LIKE YOU’RE FREEZING
Every successful writer — especially naked ones — knows it doesn’t pay to be too comfortable. Montaigne wrote in a freezing room. Hugo probably got the idea from him. The French always copy each other. If you can’t stand the cold, at least imagine you’re cold (you know, like imagining you’ve been in a bunch of threesomes). Or just try just being naked for a change…you know, without a ball in your mouth.
THE NAKED TRUTH
Nothing is more liberating than nakedness carefully applied. We need our teeth chattering like maracas. We need adversity. Montaigne and Hugo were freezing their asses off. You can too if you’d just bare yourself, and learn the true value of nakedness. It isn’t to shock people or freak out the neighbour’s dog.
Your job is to write something of importance — even if it’s ridiculous importance. If a dog freaks out in the process, so be it. Dogs freak out so much, anyway.
No biggie. They’ll move along once you put your clothes back on.
Robert Cormack is a satirist, novelist and blogger. His first novel “You Can Lead a Horse to Water (But You Can’t Make It Scuba Dive)” is available online and at most major bookstores. Check out Skyhorse Press or Simon and Schuster for more details.
