It Don’t Mean a Thing if it Ain’t got that Swing: Writing, Rhythm and Groove

by Gareth Dylan Smith

At school I generally enjoyed writing, then disliked it intensely during my undergraduate years. I now realize that distaste for writing reflected the pointlessly regurgitatory assignments which felt like unwarranted distractions from playing the drums. While working towards my first master’s degree, I rediscovered joy in writing, and that grew exponentially during my PhD studies – the thrill of approaching the world through a library with my creativity, precious few instructions and a laptop!

Writing helps me to see and to question the world, and sometimes to understand it more clearly. It’s perhaps odd that the solitary task of writing helps me feel more connected to others. As I often tell people, half-jokingly (maybe), I am a much better person in writing. Writing amplifies and channels my emotions. I think it makes me a better teacher and parent. I am increasingly confused, disillusioned and disappointed; but equally I am more buoyed by the love, compassion and community I encounter.

A Philadelphia friend once asked me to describe how I write. I said I love the rhythms of words. I like my writing to groove. As I’m typing this now, I’m playing the rhythm under my breath with my tongue and my teeth (case in point: grammatically, I didn’t need to write “my tongue and my teeth”, but the sentence flows more smoothly than ending with just “my tongue and teeth”). I like phrases to feel bouncy, punchy, light, abrupt, stretchy, short, long, quick or slow. I choose adjectives and verbs on the basis of how they contribute to the rhythm, or because of the sound of a particular word (is it sibilant, sticky, harsh, guttural, inviting?) – a suitably sibilant synonym serves up a smile! Nouns are generally harder to change, but I like phrases to glisten, shimmer or fade. I enjoy plausibly deniable double-entendres, and my favourite writing game is alliteration – my record to date in an academic article is eight P-words in a row. 

Writing is a playground where I can run around testing ideas. If a practice, person or problem intrigues me, I get to work out what I think. I don’t tend to perform well in meetings or even in many casual conversations, but when I am thinking and writing about something, I get to come back to it writing session after writing session, day after day, until my hunch is articulated in full (or left for dead if need be). Writing is where I feel most able to contribute to a conversation. 

I write pretty much anywhere. I can be really productive when travelling – no one interrupts you at an airport, on a plane, on a train or in an Uber. I’ve crouched on train platforms and bus floors to finish a thought. I’ll pull my car over so I don’t forget something crucial – I take notes on my phone or on the back of an envelope and leave myself voicemails. I love the flurry of trying to get it all down on (virtual) paper as well as the more ordered chaos of editing everything to make some kind of sense. 

My advice for aspiring writers?

1. Say what you need to, with sincerity, humility and humour.
2. Write, re-write, and re-write again. Check it till it’s just how you want it. Then check it again the next day, revise again, and then leave it. When you’re totally sure it’s 100% right, sleep on it and check one more time, first thing in the morning (like before anyone else is up). After final revisions, just sit back and enjoy publication. And then you can bathe in regret at all the typos you somehow still missed. 
3. Don’t expect to make any money.