At the Writers Coffeehouse this past weekend we talked a
little bit about starting a book, which is something I blabbed on about here
just a few weeks back. I thought
it might be worth going over one particular aspect of both discussions.
There’s one thing any writer needs to understand if they
want to be successful. It took me a
while to get it. Really get
it.
Ideas are cheap. Ridiculously cheap. They’re a dime a dozen. I’d guess on an average day I have at least a dozen random ideas for books, short stories, screenplays, or television episodes.
Ideas are cheap. Ridiculously cheap. They’re a dime a dozen. I’d guess on an average day I have at least a dozen random ideas for books, short stories, screenplays, or television episodes.
Now, in my experience, beginning writers tend to hit one of
two problems when it comes to ideas, and they’re really two flipsides of the
same issue.
One type of writer laments that they never have good ideas. Yeah, I might have a couple clever thoughts, but they’re not, y’know... book-worthy. Not like some of the stuff out there. Wanderers or Middlegame or Black Leopard, Red Wolf or... I mean, all that stuff is so good. On so many levels. The ideas I come up with all feel kinda average. They’re not worth writing about, so I don’t write. I wait for the good ideas to strike.
If I’m the second type, I have too many ideas. I’ve barely
finished writing my third screenplay this month but I’ve already got an
idea for a series of epic novels. Which
leads me to a comic book series.
And a podcast. And a collection of linked short stories. I can barely keep up with all the ideas I have.
In either case, I’m probably suffering from a misconception. The same one, really. I think anything that
goes on the page has to be pure, award-winning gold. The difference is that the first type of
writer won’t put anything down because they know it isn’t gold, whereas the other folks are assuming it must be gold because they put it down on the page.
Make sense?
Make sense?
The catch, of course, is that most of the stuff that I put
down isn’t going to be gold. It’s going
to be rewritten and edited down and polished. I shouldn’t be thinking of story ideas as
gold, but more like diamonds. When I
find a diamond in the wild, it’s a crusty black lump. They’re not sparkly or faceted, and they definitely
don’t look like they’re worth six or eight thousand dollars per carat. Diamonds need to be cut and recut, measured
and examined, cut again, and then polished some more. That’s how they get ready to be placed in a
setting and shown off to the world.
So that first group of writers is tossing out all those
black, coarse stones because none of them look like engagement rings. The second group‘s busy sticking the crusty
lumps on gold bands and asking you to pay three months salary for them.
Hopefully it’s easy to see why neither of these is the right
approach.
What’s the trick, then? Is there a way to know which ideas
are the good ones to spend time cutting and polishing? How can I tell if it’s an idea with potential
or a bad idea or maybe a good idea but just one idea too many?
Well, y’see Timmy, the ugly truth is... a lot of the time, I can’t tell. I just need to do the work. I might go through a hundred pages or a solid week or three of outlining and realize there’s not really anything there. A fairly successful friend of mine spent months working on a novel. He got almost 70,000 words into it before he realized... it just wasn’t working. So he stopped and moved on.
Sure, yeah, he probably could’ve cheated a bit. Tweaked a few things, maybe tossed out a deus ex machina or two, but in the end it didn’t work because it didn’t work. No clever phrase or substituted word or literary sleight of hand was going to change that.
Well, y’see Timmy, the ugly truth is... a lot of the time, I can’t tell. I just need to do the work. I might go through a hundred pages or a solid week or three of outlining and realize there’s not really anything there. A fairly successful friend of mine spent months working on a novel. He got almost 70,000 words into it before he realized... it just wasn’t working. So he stopped and moved on.
Sure, yeah, he probably could’ve cheated a bit. Tweaked a few things, maybe tossed out a deus ex machina or two, but in the end it didn’t work because it didn’t work. No clever phrase or substituted word or literary sleight of hand was going to change that.
I know a lot of folks have trouble accepting this, even though we all understand this sort of thing happens in a lot of other
jobs. Chefs come up with cool recipes they never get to use. Engineers design things that never get
built. Hell, do you have any idea how
many unproduced scripts there are floating around Hollywood
that have Oscar-winning screenwriters behind them? Every creative person puts out a lot of
material that never gets seen by anyone. We do a lot of work and it gets cut or replaced or just... not used.
Don’t get paralyzed wondering if your ideas are gold. Odds are they aren’t. But you’ll find some diamonds in the rough, and once you know how to spot them it’ll be an easier (and quicker) process to find them next time. For now, take what you’ve got and work with that. There’s a chance there’s a shiny diamond or two in there somewhere. If you put the work into them.
Don’t get paralyzed wondering if your ideas are gold. Odds are they aren’t. But you’ll find some diamonds in the rough, and once you know how to spot them it’ll be an easier (and quicker) process to find them next time. For now, take what you’ve got and work with that. There’s a chance there’s a shiny diamond or two in there somewhere. If you put the work into them.
Speaking of cutting out excess material, next week I wanted
to talk to you about recycling.
Until then... go write.
I like that metaphor. To extend it a little ... sometimes I polish up that black lump and find it crumbles away into dust. I've learned not to let that bug me, and to instead look around for a better lump, one with more solidity ....
ReplyDeleteNice post. I really enjoy reading it. Very instructive, keep on writing.Thanks for sharing.
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