Grappling with words

TL;DR: Writing is a process where the parts suggest the whole which then closes itself by selecting its own parts.

I’m on one of my weird, esoteric explorations. What is writing, really? Does it have an invariant pattern at its core?

The coach Greg Souders has developed what he calls an invariant framework for jiu-jitsu where he boils down what is true about the sport at every moment. If you break down all the techniques and tactics, what is the grappler trying to do? There are a lot of parts to the framework, but the essential shape of a successful play starts at the periphery (arms and legs) and moves towards the core (back and chest) in order to immobilize the core and re-attack the periphery. All the moves of jiu-jitsu can be rederived from understanding the full invariant framework.

It’s such a fascinating idea because every endeavor should ultimately have an invariant pattern at its core from which all its techniques can be derived: chess, business, programming, or whatever else we practice. Maybe even writing.

Writing’s invariant framework

My first instinct was to think of the writer grappling with the reader, but this is wrong. The reader is important, but the writer doesn’t actually interact directly with the reader. They only indirectly affect the reader. No, the writer is actually grappling with the words.

I’m doing this right now.

A writer makes and maintains context in their mind. They might us imagery, an outline, or summon concepts – there are a myriad of techniques to make and maintain context. This context then generates words that the writer either dismisses or commits to the page. The text itself then becomes part of the context.

But there are limits to what the mind can maintain in working memory. In order to manage cognitive load, we construct patterns as a hierarchy of wholes composed of other wholes. The part suggests the whole, and then the whole helps construct the next part.

• A few words…
• A few words suggest the pattern of the sentence…
• A few words suggest the pattern of the sentence, and the pattern closes itself by selecting its final words.

The sentence suggests the paragraph, and the paragraph closes itself with more sentences. The paragraph suggests the scene. The scene suggests the chapter. And the chapters suggest the whole book. Whether it’s poetry, or a screenplay, an article, or a marketing email, the parts suggest the whole, and the whole then closes itself with more parts.

And we do this because the wholes as patterns are easier to maintain in memory than all the loose parts would.

Back to the audience

We can write off the top of our heads. This is usually called knowledge-translating. Think of a kid writing about dogs. They just respond to the word “dog,” and each sentence follows what ended the sentence before. Another form of writing is called knowledge-transforming. And I think this is where we use these wholes to shape a complex context from which new, interesting parts can be generated.

And because of this structure, the text – when read by an audience – can perform a similar maneuver in the reader’s mind. If done well, the text is able to generate a complex context in the reader’s mind that can begin to shape what they know. As hopefully I’ve done here.