Basic Writing

Author: / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2002-03-01
Features: In ancient Chinese literary theory, the theoretical term "yi" holds a special meaning and status. From the Southern Dynasties period, through poetic critiques to the Ming and Qing dynasties, the concept of "yi" remained prominent and enduring. In these literary theories, while the connotations of "yi" varied and the starting points differed, they all emphasized its role as the soul, commander, and core function in literary creation. As early as the Southern Dynasties, Fan Xian explicitly stated in his "Letter to Nephews and Nieces in Prison" that "literary works should be guided by yi, so their essence will be evident; if words convey the meaning, then the language will not be aimless." This "yi" as the dominant principle in the text was further articulated by Lu Ji in his "Rhapsody on Literature," where he contrasted "ci" (words) and "yi" (meaning), saying, "Ci measures talent and displays skill, while yi serves as the key and craftsman." Additionally, Liu Xizai's "General Art of Art" in the Qing Dynasty summarized the spirit of "upholding yi," and Yuan Mei's "Continuation of Poetic Principles" proposed the concept of "revering yi," both of which revealed the essence of "yi" in ancient Chinese literary theory and its central role in traditional Chinese literary thought. Mr. Zhu Guangqian, the founder of Chinese literary psychology, once said, "Yi is a combination of emotions and thoughts."① He also noted, "Literature generally expresses emotions through concrete contexts (imagined scenes), so yi is saturated emotions embodied in thought."② In literary creation, this dynamic combination of emotion and thought serves as the driving force. Qing Dynasty poet Shen in his "Sayings on Poetry" proposed that poetry should "win through yi rather than through words" and believed that "yi should precede the brush." He said, "When painting bamboo, one must have a fully formed bamboo in mind; only then can one put the brush to paper. The meticulous effort is what poetry values. If one is lost in the structure and meaning, unable to find direction, and merely patches together the text piece by piece, how can it achieve the skill of writing from the heart?" Qing Dynasty poet and critic Mao Chunrong in his "Shanyuan Poetic Principles" also emphasized that poetry must "first establish the meaning": "When learning poetry, for every topic, one must first establish the meaning. Those who cannot formulate meaning are overly concerned with words and phrases, striving to avoid clichés and pursue novelty as skill. If one understands the meaning, they stand apart from the crowd, and their spirit and style naturally transcend." The saying "yi should precede the brush" speaks to the relationship between yi and the brush (the structure of the text, plot, and linguistic expression). There is an organic and vital connection between yi and the brush. Su Shi, in his "Record of Wen Yu's Painting of Bamboo in Yunfang Valley," discussed painting bamboo when he said: "When bamboo first grows, an inch of tender sprout contains all its joints and leaves. From the abdomen of a cicada to the scales of a snake, and from a sword to a ten-foot pole, it is born with these features. Yet painters today draw each joint and pile up each leaf, how can they still have bamboo! Therefore, to paint bamboo, one must first have a fully formed bamboo in mind." Although Su Shi's discussion pertains to painting, it is equally an important issue in literary creation. When painting bamboo, if one is content with "drawing each joint and piling up each leaf," the result lacks the essence of bamboo. This is because it merely the superficial outline of the brush, even if the painting looks exactly like bamboo growing in the ground, people still perceive it as a lifeless, dead bamboo. Conversely, if the painter has a fully formed bamboo in mind, truly understands and appreciates it, then even if they paint freely without copying, the bamboo they create may be a living, spirited bamboo with both form and profound meaning. In literary creation, if the words are not guided by the initial meaning, but rather written haphazardly as one goes along, "drawing each joint and piling up each leaf," the result is either rambling and unfocused or utterly disjointed and incoherent, failing to bring the literary image to life.