Thinking, technique and writing

 Science is a way of thinking.

There are many ways. In ancient Greece, some people who were intrigued by a question consulted oracles. Some listened for whispered voices as the wind rustled the leaves in a sacred grove. Some, like Herodotus and Aristotle, went to look for themselves. They spoke of making inquiries and investigations.

Our sciences grew out of that impulse to observe and make a record of our observations. If you’re a scientist, you subscribe to that way of thinking. You subscribe to certain habits, routines and systems. You look for answers in a certain way because you frame questions in a certain way.

Reading E.O. Wilson’s memoir reminded me of those rare moments in college when my teachers talked — not about a research project, techniques, analytical tools or a discipline — but what it was to be a scientist, what it’s like spending a life thinking in a certain way.

I enjoy the writings of scientists who take a stab at that topic.

Many writers have tried to do something similar for people who write. My list would include Annie Dillard, William and Kim Stafford, Ta-Nehisi Coates, Virginia Woolf and Rainer Maria Rilke.

As in the sciences, technique is vital. But it seems to me that questions about technique and craftsman follow more basic questions. I think it makes sense to talk about an attitude toward writing or an approach to writing — and how approaching things in different ways could lead to different practices of writing.

Craftsmanship is vital. But I don’t think it’s the place to start. We need to go elsewhere to find the first lesson.