Peter Elbow sets out in Writing Without Teachers “to show [writers both inside and outside schools] how to gain control over words,” though doing so “requires working hard and finding others to work with you” (vii). The major advice of Elbow’s first chapter is regular “freewriting exercises”: ten-minute periods of “nonedit[ed]” writing that he presents as a method of giving life to a writer’s voice and writing by cutting through “interruptions, changes, and hesitations” (3-6). His second and third chapters explore two extended metaphors for writing, organic growth and the interaction of ingredients in cooking, that he sees as ways of thinking about writing that can get writers past “where almost everyone starts: helpless before the process of writing because it obeys inscrutable laws. We are in its power. It is not in ours” (13). These metaphors are offered as alternatives to a conventional “two-step” understanding of writing: “First you figure out your meaning, then you put it into language” (14). Returning to his early emphasis on the importance of others, Elbow continues by offering a description of what he calls “the teacherless writing class” (76): a group of 7-12 writers who all submit a piece of writing and offer descriptive, qualitative feedback-- “facts,” not “theories”!--on all other group members’ writing each week. He advises the reader to read carefully and the writer to listen carefully, reminding each that “you are always right and always wrong” (106). Elbow reflects on the experiences that led him to pilot teacherless classes, claiming that a “teacher is usually too good a reader” and that teacherless classes allow students to “use the responses of others to help you fulfill your own goals” rather than an instructor’s (126-27). Elbow believes that “at the moment, writing is a black box,” “making marks on paper and then waiting to see what happens when other people come along and start at those marks” (133), and insists that the teacherless class is a “much more objective, impersonal, and rigorous” way to deal with the black box than “any conventional class” (140). His model “wouldn’t be hard to build … into a university or school” (140), and his final chapter is his theoretical attempt--“in temperate language and reasoned argument”--to argue against those who reject Elbow and his model as anti-intellectual “subjective bullshit” (141). He lays out the “doubting game”--i.e. “the self-extrication game, the logic game, or the dialectic of propositions”--and the “believing game”--i.e. “the involvement or self-insertion game, the metaphor game, or the dialectic of experience” (149). He presents the two as interdependent, but with the former, via Socrates and Descartes, having gained an unproductive monopoly among humanities scholars. Elbow positions the believing game as non-argumentative--a way of putting off “the itch for closure” and “the itch for argument” by attempting to occupy and believe another’s interpretation of a text’s meaning rather than doubting it (177); a game that “deals with particular, unique things” rather than “classes of things” (165), paradoxically ameliorating solipsism, groupthink, and credulity while giving “the little man much more power over the majority than the doubting game” (182).