Bird By Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

In this final, short section, Lamott summarizes her main points about craft, comfort, and mindfulness. She writes: “I think I’ve told my students every single thing I know about writing. Short assignments, shitty first drafts, one-inch picture frames, Polaroids, messes, mistakes, partners” (231). These are elements of The Practical Craft of Writing. A repeated idea about craft is to write a lot and establish a regular—ideally daily—writing practice. Lamott advises: “Be afraid of not getting your writing done” (226) rather than being afraid of writing a bad rough draft or of delving into painful memories.

Lamott gives the reader permission to write for themselves—to seek Mindfulness as a Tool for Writing and Life. Mindfulness itself, gained through the writing process, can be more beneficial than publication. She recalls her friend Dale asking, “How alive am I willing to be?” (236). Awareness of the world around you offers material for the scenes that you write. Awareness of your own memories and access to your own imagination also offer material. Paying attention to both sensory and internal perceptions allows you to experience your life and yourself in a conscious and deliberate way. Prioritizing this therapeutic aspect of writing sets Lamott’s book apart from other books on craft that prioritize aesthetics. 

Lamott is primarily concerned with Writing as a Comfort to the Self and Others—this is more important than publication, money, or fame. She believes that “Even if you never publish a word, you have something important to pour yourself into” (236). The act of writing can be a comforting daily habit, regardless of what happens to the writing you produce. Sharing your writing is a way to help other people. Lamott says, “people need us, to mirror for them and for each other without distortion” (234).

Bird by Bird ends with an exploration of what it means to identify as a writer and an artist. She says, “This is what separates artists from ordinary people: the belief, deep in our hearts, that if we build our castles well enough, somehow the ocean won’t wash them away” (231). Art projects offer immortality, or at least the feeling of creating immortality while we write. Participating in creating art helps us appreciate existing art. Lamott says, “Becoming a writer can also profoundly change your life as a reader” (233). The last few lines of the book detail why reading and writing are important:

Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul. [...] We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again. It’s like singing on a boat during a terrible storm at sea. You can’t stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship. (237)

These final lines read as a kind of manifesto for Lamott’s approach to the writing life—one that prioritizes not external markers of success, but fulfillment and community. Writing allows us to control our reactions to events we can’t control, and it strengthens our connection to the communities, both large and small, in which we live.