It started with Ted Hughes. A fellow student referred to a wonderful poem of his that I remember from school, The Thought Fox, in relation to the evolving, exciting but somewhat frustrating and elusive process of writing an essay of 5,000 to 10,000 words or so. It’s a quick and lovely read (the poem, not my essay – certainly not my essay), and I recommend looking it out if you haven’t come across it before. The overall gist (and I do it no justice here) is that Hughes uses the metaphor of a fox to describe the magical process of going from blank sheet of paper to perfectly formed finished work.
I start to notice that there are animals everywhere. They seem to have completely infiltrated the field. Over in the behaviourism camp, they start with Pavlov’s dogs and move on to rats and mazes; we discuss power and organisations at Roffey and our Set Advisor shares a model that uses four different animals to illustrate its point; over in the wilds of self-development, Anthony Robbins is talking about training your own behaviour as you might train a dolphin to perform. Even Professor John Kotter of Harvard Business School has chosen to put across his 8 step model of change through a rather heart-warming fable about penguins.
Well, wherever the animals have come from, I have to crack on with my critical review, which is looking at different tools and techniques for change used in the field, across both personal and organisational development. I have found to my surprise that the thing about 10,000 words is that it’s not actually that many words at all. I have no trouble writing 10,000 words – in fact by the time I rocked up at the last set meeting I had somewhere getting on for 25,000. The problems I have are simple: a. cutting down the words and b. getting them to make sense. Once I’ve conquered these, I’ll be fine.
With this in mind, I book in for an overnight stay at Roffey, hoping for inspiration. After a really useful set meeting I feel a bit clearer about what I might be trying to say in my essay, and head up to my room, my laptop, and the beautiful view of Roffey’s grounds with hope in my heart and a Roffey-baked chocolate chip cookie in my hand. As I sit down and start up my computer, I spot a large, glossy fox scampering across the grass in front of my window. I hope it is a thought fox. My computer sputters and the screen goes black.
Fortunately, Roffey has other computers, and even more helpfully multi-talented Learning Resource Centre staff who are able to talk me through a first aid process that magically revives my ailing laptop. By the end of my stay I have less than 12,000 words and only appear to be trying to write 2 or 3 different essays instead of the 6 or 7 the last version probably contained. I might just meet our set deadline of the end of this week for a coherent first draft after all.
I just hope the animals are on my side.