Free Yourself! Throw Out The Lists! Just Write!

....just don't ask me to read and applaud what you come up with. 
Deal?

OK, let me backtrack a touch here, or none of this will make sense.

At this time of the year, it's a very popular thing to decide that one is going to "free" oneself to be "truly creative."  Sounds terrific, doesn't it? Free yourself. Quit standing in your own way. Quit telling yourself you "have" to do things a certain way for them to be "right."
All that stuff sounds truly enlightened. It sounds like an ideal way to create. Just sit down...and let yourself fly. What happens will be from the heart, and pure, and beautiful!!!!

If I've seen one expression of this sentiment, I've seen a dozen.
And every single one of them grates on my nerves like nails on a blackboard. (Or a plastic knife on Styrofoam, which is even worse. Trust me on this.)

Why is that?
It's because proclaiming that to the wrong audience is pure poppycock.
It's not only a lie...it's a lie that can devastate the very creativity it's trying to free.
At the very least, it encourages--yea, practically demands--mediocrity.
It baptizes it and calls it brilliant.
And it's a disgrace.

Now, this may puzzle you.
You may come away from that statement thinking I just don't believe in creativity.
That I find it threatening in some fashion that people are willing to toss away rules and just "fly." That somehow, because I make so much of my living on the other side of the desk, I've lost the joy of pure creation and want everyone to fit in a "box."

None of that is true, no matter what you might think at first.
As a matter of fact, I'm a great fan of creativity.
I'm just not a great fan of ignorant "creativity."
Of which we have so many examples in the publishing world now, it hurts to talk about them.

A word to the creatively wise--or those of you who would be--then, certainly seems in order.
What these sentiments don't tell you is the crux of the matter.
Which is that creativity, in order to be truly productive and to end with something worthwhile...
...needs a bit of structure.

Stop screaming. I promise, it's not gonna hurt as much as you think. 

The hard, grownup truth of the matter is that you are not creative despite the structure within which you work; you are, more often than not, more creative because of that same structure.

Michelangelo splattering paint in general patterns on the Sistine Chapel might have been creative. But it wouldn't have been awe-inspiring, edifying, and instructive--not to mention holy work--the way it came about when he planned out what he was going to do and was willing to spend those months on his back making it happen.

In other words...overall, for most creativity, a structure is a help, not a hindrance. In fact, most of the time, it's the only way that creativity gets channeled to bring about a successful  and truly beautiful result.

If you've been told otherwise, you've been lied to.
And I don't care how far up the creative ladder the person was who told you that.
Because they lied.

Deliberately? Nope. 
More than likely, they truly believe what they're telling you.
But many of these  brilliant, accomplished people are guilty of forgetting one thing: whom they're talking to. Because if you're a brilliant, accomplished person, and you're talking to newbies, you may forget that you're a long way from being in their shoes anymore.
And that's the problem.

Had someone told you, as a beginner, that you should just sit down, ignore all the structures and rules and potential labor-saving advice out there, and allow yourself to "fly"...you probably wouldn't have become a brilliant, successful, and accomplished member of your profession.
(Maybe you tried it, in fact, and discovered the hard way that it didn't work!)

That's why it pays to remember that  the ability to do what you do now, to use your creativity to its fullest extent, didn't just fall out of a tree and hit you in the head.
You had to seek it out. You had to learn it.
And, to a great extent, what you sought and had to master was the structure that would enable your work to see the greatest chances for success.

Think about it.
If you're a novelist, what's the best way for your story to see success?
Is it via 90,000 words of free verse?
Is it conveyed well in 300 pages of self-illustrated haiku?
Is it told in newspaper columns, Tweets, or Facebook posts?
Of course not.
It's in the form of a book. With chapters. With scenes. With conflict. With characters who show certain traits, talk a certain way, believe a certain way, and will portray your story in a certain way. For readers who read a certain way and like their stories to unfold a certain way.

In other words, folks...in a structure.
In a shape.
In a format.
Something that requires thought, not just raw emotion, unfettered "freedom," or counter-intuitive "brilliance."

So by all means, free yourself to do your  best work...whatever that takes, and however you can do it.  Don't be afraid to be creative. Don't be afraid to take a few risks.
But at least have respect for the lay of the land before you attempt to circumnavigate it.
And don't perpetuate this ignorant lie that creativity without thought or structure is somehow "purer" and "better" and more noble.

It's not. It's just self-delusion.
And the sooner you discard it as the counterfeit coin it is...
the sooner you'll be really creative this year.

Thoughts?
Janny

AMEN!

If you want the whole story...read this.

If you want what I consider to be the best lines of the whole thing, they're here:

 . . . we should recognise the fundamental role that property rights play in the making of cultural things. Compared to the exciting rhetoric of the need for everything to be free, that might seem unglamorous, unromantic, and indeed hard‐hearted. But it may be all of those things and yet still be a better road for our society to take.

Do not be misled by claims of high principle in this debate. When someone tells you content wants to be free, what you should hear is ‘I want your content for free ’ – and that is not the same thing at all.

EXACTLY.

I am fed up with "brave new worldists"--many of whom have never written an original word in their lives--crowing about "content wanting to be free." That's just a polite way of saying  that they think they should be allowed to harvest freely  from MY creativity and MY work without giving me either credit or compensation for it.

In other words, they simply want to take whatever they want, whether it's theirs or not.

The way I was raised...that's called STEALING.

It still is.

The key to changing and arresting this deplorable situation is in not backing down--in being brave enough to align ourselves with people strong enough, and principled enough, to slap these people's little hands and force them to stop.

Thoughts?
Janny

Overwhelm

There’s only one thing wrong with most holidays…
And it’s not even that they’re over too soon. Never mind that they usually ARE…but that’s not it.
One aspect of holiday weekends that makes most of us writers salivate at our keyboards is the thought that, for at least some of that time, we CAN be salivating at our keyboards, and no one’s going to say a word. The husband’ll be sleeping late on one or all of those days…the kids’ll be outside (at least on these summer holidays) tooling around the neighborhood or sitting in a cool basement playing video games…and there we’ll be, with nothing but a few hours ahead of us, a computer in front of us, and a pot of coffee beside us.

Should be an idyllic creative moment, right?
Not necessarily.

I found myself this evening in an interesting conundrum. I had a busier weekend than I should have, in that I had to play catchup on some freelance work that fell by the wayside last weekend. Long story, health related, daughter is OK, we think…(budget won’t be, but daughter is). But when your Sunday and Monday are interrupted with ER visits and X-ray errands, not to mention pharmacy runs and the other draining or daunting side trips, writing tends to take a back seat. Writing something funny or heartwarming at that point might be just what the doctor ordered—but you haven’t got the strength or the energy for it, either. (!)

Nevertheless, now that things are calmer, I’ve been scrambling to get current with my nonfiction writing assignments. Some of them are pretty well caught up or—dare we say it?—even, for all practical purposes, done. One still has multiple parts left to it, and has taken way too long…but at least the collaborator seems generally pleased with the work once we finally get past his broken English and my complete ineptitude at writing “techie” and meet in the middle. :-) I did send back some of the documents he had made suggestions on, rewritten and the like—but I didn’t do that until I ran smack into a brick wall looking at my own work.

And there’s the rub. The idea that “when I get time over a weekend, I’m going to use it writing,” versus the reality of what actually happens when we do so. As in, sometimes, panic.

Yeah, I know, writing’s easy for me. It’s supposed to be, anyway. But I’ve been had. Hornswoggled. Led down the garden path…of nonfiction editing and freelance pieces. These pieces, on the whole, come together without a whole lot of angst on my part. They’re not easy, necessarily…but they just don’t take a lot emotionally out of me, either, which is good—because ideally, then, that leaves the emotion for the fiction.

Until I sat there this evening looking at the work I had to do on one book, and thought, “This is too much. This is going to be SO hard. I’m not even sure what way to go yet.” So I pulled out the short story…and had much the same reaction. I didn’t want to get back into it. I was scared I couldn’t do it…again. And I retreated to the safe, easy stuff I know I CAN do now. Even if it’s sometimes boring as sin—at least I know I CAN do it. And I will get paid something for it.

Which, even if I were to finish the fiction I’m working on now in the next twenty minutes…won’t be something that happens any time soon from it.

It can’t be denied that right now, my most pressing need is money, and so it makes sense that writing for pay—even if it’s not all that dependable pay—tends to be more attractive than writing fiction that may, or may not, sell sometime before I’m supposed to officially be “retirement” age. (No comment.) But I wish it had not also turned into something that’s become more “fun”—because it’s easier—than fiction.

I’m a novelist. I’m still feeling called to be a novelist. But quite honestly, where is the energy and emotion going to come from for it if I chicken out and write the stuff I know I’ll get paid for first? And where am I as a responsible working writer if I shun things I really can do, things that will pay things like daughter’s ER bill…in favor of trying to eke out some of my novels again from the unsettled states and pieces in which they find themselves?

If I had the answer to this one, I’d not have to worry about trying to apportion time properly on a holiday weekend. And I would have had a more successful fiction “go” on this one, too.

But maybe, just maybe, if I approach my fiction the way I started out doing nonfiction…which was tiny pieces at a time…I can get my “fiction feet” back under me again. I can get the novel’s sea legs again...and once again, find the most relaxing, exhilarating, and rewarding end of my work coming from where it always came from before.

Maybe. I’m hoping so. Because this alternative of having novels in pieces, short stories half done, and feeling like a failure every time I don’t crank out a couple thousand words of my OWN stuff a weekend…this ain’t a good place to live in for long. I don’t like it. And I can’t believe it’s remotely good for my Muse or what I still feel called, after all this time, to do.

Thoughts?
Janny

A Jump-Start to Creativity for the Weekend!

Over the past several months (years?), I have felt my share of Writer Envy. 

We all suffer it to one degree or another. And you know it when you feel it. It’s that familiar, stomach-sinking sensation that hits you when you hear of another author’s success…again. 

Even if you like the author. 

Even if you’re a fan of the author…sometimes you feel it anyway. 

The old why her and not me? question. 

Or, as I encountered last week, hearing about an author who’s already a bestseller being courted by publishers to write yet more books, when she’s already got several due to another publisher and is stressing out because she “doesn’t know how she’s going to get it all done.” (Hint: she could always have refused the assignment and let the rest of us have a chance…but funny how that option never seems to occur to any of these lucky people.) 

Or the same ol’ same ol’ people in the industry seemingly reaping all the rewards—teaching the plum workshops, speaking at the great venues—while a larger majority of us here in the trenches slog away, growing increasingly disillusioned and/or desperate about anyone ever noticing us in the shadows while the spotlight is so firmly fixed on those fortunate few. 

 So what’s to be done about that? 

Well, it seems to me we have a couple of choices. 

The familiar choice is, first, to get peeved. (Admit it. It’s okay.) To sit there and smile on the outside while on the inside thinking about ways to provoke spontaneous human combustion.

Close on the heels of the urge to see that other author’s head explode, at least on my part, comes a second set of emotions and self-talk. 

This usually starts out with “What’s wrong with my stuff?” and ends with, “Well, if I had_____ like she does, I’d be where she is, too.” 

My favorite use of the “If I had ______” phrase is, of course, “Well, if I had the luxury of being able to stay home and write full-time, I’d have all this success, too.” 

Sounds good on the surface, doesn’t it? 

And it does have more than a grain of truth to it. 

Having more time to write is always a good thing. 

There’s only one problem with this assumption: it’s only half true.

Because having all the time in the world to write, and no financial worries, and nothing else standing in the way, only truly works if you have some idea of what you’re going to write.

In other words, without some ideas that have you jumping in your shoes, without some sparks that have you unable to stay away from the keyboard, you’ll be just as frustrated as you were when you thought the only obstacle between you and the Great American Novel was the financial ability to spend unlimited time pursuing your muse. 

You’ll stare at the screen, you’ll noodle around with some sentences, maybe, but mostly you’ll just avoid writing…and then you’ll beat yourself up for it. 

That way, ladies and gentlemen, does not lie success.

It’s a path that leads nowhere, and I’ve come up with an idea to jar us off that path and onto a better one.

 I have to admit, this idea is stolen, and not new. It comes from the history of a particular author I know who, when she was working on a couple of ideas at a time and still hadn’t sold her first book, had an agent challenge her to do something that changed her writing life. The agent looked at her stuff and said, “This is promising. But I want to see more. Way more. So I have an assignment for you: go home and write six new synopses for six new books. When you have them, send them to me, and we’ll talk.” 

The author nearly fainted at the sheer idea of just going home and writing six brand-new synopses—for the simple reason that she writes much like I do, in a very methodical and logical, linear, plot-driven manner, so that having those synopses done would basically mean she knew exactly what each book was going to be about and would just have to write from an outline. She couldn’t send the agent one page and a wing and a prayer; when she was done with those synopses, all that would remain was to pick which book she wanted to write first, and go for it. 

Yeah, it was hard. Yeah, it took some work. But after she did it, she had even more ideas popping out of the woodwork—and what was more to the point, she had books an agent could nudge her on and say, “This one. This is the one I want to see more on.” 

A couple of years after she did this, she signed a two-book deal with a major publisher, sold her first book with virtually no revisions, and was on her way to building a career. 

She’s since become a college writing teacher, sold at least two more books, and has started to snag some of those speaking venues and some “street cred” that just might turn into the kind of career we all dream about. 

And she started this while working full-time outside the home and raising several sons.

The difference between being a very good, unsold writer and a good, sold one?

Lots and lots and lots of options. 

Productivity. And more productivity. 

That came from…you guessed it. Ideas. 

 

So I’m going to take on a challenge, and I hope you’ll join me in it. 

 I may or may not write six synopses—that remains to be seen. But what I am going to do, since I’m sorely in need of more book options than I have now, is to make an effort to concentrate on becoming an idea-generating machine. 

Specifically, I’m setting a public goal: to have ten new story ideas by the end of the month.

 Ten new ideas that are at least to the scene-and-chapter stage, which is the preliminary stage I always go through before I write a synopsis. 

 Think that sounds insurmountable? Maybe it is. But I’ll never know that until I try. So I’m going to try. 

And, I suspect, once I put these wheels in motion, there’ll be a lot of others that start turning as well. Because God does want us to demonstrate that we can be trusted with “small things” before He gives us the “big ones.” 

Maybe the only thing that’s standing between me and that success I crave so much isn’t that the universe hasn’t provided me with the perfect situation in which to wallow and create at leisure. Maybe, in the end, the only thing that’s standing between me and success is not having enough trust in my own creativity. But no muscle gets stronger until you exercise it. So starting now, I’m going into full-blown aerobic idea-sparking mode. 

Wanna join me? If you do, just register in the combox! And then let’s keep track of what we come up with as the next couple of weeks unfold… 

 Thoughts? 

Janny