Alan's Reviews > Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

Rec. by: Ted, and Kim
Rec. for: People who just wanna write

So my wife and I have been watching Ted Lasso with our friend Kim lately, and we got up to an episode (I believe it was S2.E9: "Beard After Hours") during which Ted Lasso says to Coach Beard, "Remember, bird by bird," and Beard turns around with both middle fingers raised.

"Not that kind of bird," says Ted.

I mentioned to Kim that "bird by bird" sounds as if it might come from something, but I'd never heard of it—and Kim says "Yes, it's from a book, and I have a copy right here. Would you like to read it?"

Certainly—and thanks, Kim!

Anne Lamott's brief and supple book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life came out in 1994, long enough ago that I can well believe it was influential on the writers for Ted Lasso, and many other works as well. The advice Lamott provides boils down (mostly) to common wisdom, things any aspiring writer knows (or ought to know): establish a routine and write; allow yourself complete free rein during the first draft but be ruthless for the second and third; observe and take notes; don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good; don't pin all your hopes on publication... stuff like that. But in Lamott's hands, these raw injunctions are enrobed in warm, intimate and often very funny prose—which makes those often bitter pills go down much more easily.

Seeing yourself in print is such an amazing concept: you can get so much attention without having to actually show up somewhere. While others who have something to say or who want to be effectual, like musicians or baseball players or politicians, have to get out there in front of people, writers, who tend to be shy, get to stay home and still be in public. There are many obvious advantages to this. You don't have to dress up, for instance, and you can't hear them boo you right away.
—p.xiv, "Introduction"

As it turns out, "bird by bird" is itself actual writing advice—a phrase Lamott gleaned from her father (also a writer), who encouraged her older brother to finish a long-delayed report on a book of ornithology by taking it one bird at a time. Which is, of course, excellent advice—take a large task and break it into smaller tasks, then tackle those subtasks one at a time. But the metaphor... that's what makes it sing.

Lamott writes from a solidly Christian perspective—not something I normally seek out, but Lamott's is precisely the kind of Christianity I admire, the kind that follows the compassionate teachings of the Christ himself, rather than the arrogant bleatings of his self-appointed representatives...

Although when I mentioned this to my priest friend Tom, he said you can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.
—p.22, "Shitty First Drafts"

The 30-year gap since Bird by Bird was published does show in many ways, all of them minor. Lamott uses Polaroid photographs as a metaphor for a whole chapter, for example, and refers to typewriters a lot more often than to computers. But she also lists David Byrne as a figure to admire—something I still think is true—and, for the most part, the advice she provides is timeless even when referring to bygone technologies and people.

Lamott graciously acknowledges many other writers and thinkers throughout Bird by Bird—and often, those she credits are priests and other clergy. Even so, though, she does not accept such authority uncritically...

To be engrossed by something outside ourselves is a powerful antidote for the rational mind, the mind that so frequently has its head up its own ass—seeing things in such a narrow and darkly narcissistic way that it presents a colo-rectal theology, offering hope to no one.
—p.102, "Looking Around"

The real center of Bird by Bird, I think, comes just about halfway through the book, in the chapter called "The Moral Point of View"—at least, that's the chapter I found most quotable:

{...} if you do care deeply about something—if, for instance, you are conservative in the great sense of the word, if you are someone who is trying to conserve the landscape and the natural world—then this belief will keep you going as you struggle to get your work done.
—pp.106-107, "The Moral Point of View"

Or look at the fourteenth Dalai Lama, who is, for my money, the sanest person currently on earth. He says simply, "My true religion is kindness." That is a great moral position—practicing kindness, keeping one's heart open in the presence of suffering. Unfortunately it does not make great literature.
—p.107, "The Moral Point of View"

And this passage could have been written on the very day I finished reading Bird by Bird:

We are all in danger now and have a new everything to face, and there is no point gathering an audience and demanding its attention unless you have something to say that is important and constructive. My friend Carpenter says we no longer need Chicken Little to tell us the sky is falling, because it already has. The issue now is how to take care of one another.
—p.108, "The Moral Point of View"

Now, I'll admit, a lot of the above doesn't sound like writing advice, as such... but Lamott does provide some cogent guidance for putting words onto the page (or screen) as well...

Writing is about hypnotizing yourself into believing in yourself, getting some work done, then unhypnotizing yourself and going over the material coldly.
—p.114, "Broccoli"

Along with some snark about newfangled devices created to solve problems that... aren't really problems to begin with:

Of course, it goes without saying that to make lemonade, all you need is a pitcher, a lemon-juice squeezer, ice cubes, water, lemons, and sugar. That's all. Oh, and a long spoon. But my aunt was a little depressed, and this lemonade-making thing must have seemed like something that would be fun and would maybe hydrate her life a little, filling her desiccated spirit with nice, cool, sweet lemonade. The contraption consisted of a glass pitcher, with a lemon squeezer that fit on top and that had a holding tank for the lemon juice. What you did was to fill the pitcher with water and ice cubes and sugar, then put the squeezer—with its holding tank—on top, squeeze a bunch of lemons, then pour the lemon juice from the holding tank into the pitcher. Finally, you got your long spoon and stirred. The lemon googe (I loved that word!—APS) and seeds stayed on top in the juice squeezer. The whole thing was very efficient, but if you thought about it too long, totally stupid, too.
—p.139, "Index Cards"

Although Lamott often presents her tips about the craft of writing in definite terms, her writing remains humble and to the point—these are good ideas that have worked well for her, and may very well work for you too. I think that it would be both a lot of fun and very educational to take a writing class from her.

I'll leave you, I think, with one last quote, from Bird by Bird's conclusion:

Lighthouses don't go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.
—p.236, "The Last Class"

Anne Lamott stands herein, shining very brightly...