Now you’ve hunted down a shiny, new idea, what are you going to do with it?
I always write mine in a notebook as soon as possible, to make sure it doesn’t just dissolve into the ether like any other dream.
That’s not enough though – an idea should be a living thing, that develops and grows. I have sentenced ideas to die in a lonely notebook too many times. It’s much too easy to allow this to happen. Once the excitement that is generated by a new idea is lost, it’s difficult, though not impossible, to revive it.
How do you work out if your idea is any good?
Spend some time with it. Visit it, every day if you can, but frequently anyway. Scribble and add new ideas to the mix - potential characters, plot ideas, locations. See how the idea collides with the recurring themes in your existing compost heap.
Whether it’s a good idea or not is a very personal thing. It must be a good idea for you, not one that pleases anyone else. This is the beginning of a romance, if you like, and if it’s not exciting now, how will you persevere through the difficult times?
Do you keep going back to it, naturally? Or does it feel like a drag, as if you have to force it? If you’re still brimming with enthusiasm, that’s obviously a really positive sign.
It’s very easy to kill off an idea by squandering it – by sharing it with someone else too soon, or with the wrong person. Just a lack of interest from another person can completely squelch the new idea that should be growing in your unconscious mind. Equally, telling someone all about it, even if they are interested, can prematurely satisfy the storytelling urge, like snacks spoiling your dinner.
Creativity is a strange and mysterious process and I guess many of us develop our own habits and rituals as a kind of comfort blanket to take with us into uncharted territory. It is a never-ending experiment in which we try to discover what works, and then keep on doing it.
If I’m still excited by the idea after a few weeks, I know it’s worth developing. This is especially important when writing a novel – given that at the very least it’s going to be a part of your life for months, perhaps years. It really has to be an idea that matters and is intensely interesting because it’s a colossal commitment to write a whole novel.
Experiments in Story Alchemy
How then do I go about developing an idea? Going back to the Creative Compost Heap post, the source material has to rot and transform – and this is where the idea of alchemy comes in.
I learned about freewriting from the Open University Creative Writing course. The opening section of what we called The Big Red Book spends a lot of time discussing the nuts and bolts of how to write, and includes a variety of exercises to prime the pump, but freewriting is the only method I still use consistently.
I might only have a general idea of what I want to explore, or I might choose something specific. If I’m starting with an idea about a particular character, I might ask myself, “What kind of character would find this situation particularly challenging?”, for instance, and then I set my timer – fifteen minutes might work, but I prefer half an hour - and then I scribble any old nonsense around whatever the question triggers in my mind, trying not to think, criticise, evaluate. That stage comes later - for now, it’s all about imagination.
This often, but not always, generates an answer to my question. Sometimes it’s not the best answer – in fact the best answer is rarely the first one which is too often obvious and predictable - but at least I’ve started the flow of ideas.
The important thing is to turn that tap on!
I also use this exact method when I’m in the middle of an outline or early draft and get stuck. I always tell myself that if I can write myself into a corner, I can write myself out again. Often, this is where the real excitement happens.
I like to use pen and paper and let my hand do the thinking. For some reason that works better for me than typing on the computer, but there is a theory that younger people are more accustomed to typing and that works best for them. Again, experiment!
I tend to write in sentence fragments and without paying too much attention to grammar and punctuation. This shouldn’t feel like the work of actual writing – it’s just play.
Other writers find that lists work well, either simple lists or as a creative form of mind mapping.
The science fiction writer Ray Bradbury was a fan of making random lists of words and then seeing where they led – a way of accessing the unconscious mind via a form of free association, as used in psychoanalytic therapy. He also recommended writing a short story every week for a year, on the basis that it is impossible to write 52 bad short stories in a row. I’m a bit nervous of short stories myself and the very idea of writing fifty two gives me the heebie jeebies – whereas I am remarkably content at the prospect of spending a year writing a hundred and thirty thousand works, most of which I will revise beyond recognition.
I recommend Bradbury’s little book, Zen in the Art of Writing, in which he talks about how making lists of apparently random words, and the finding the pattern in them, helped to allow his unconscious mind to bring ideas to the surface.
“The lists ran something like this: THE LAKE. THE NIGHT. THE CRICKETS. THE RAVINE. THE ATTIC. THE BASEMENT. THE TRAPDOOR. THE BABY. THE CROWD. THE NIGHT TRAIN. THE FOG HORN. THE SCYTHE. THE CARNIVAL. THE CAROUSEL. THE DWARF. THE MIRROR MAZE. THE SKELETON. I was beginning to see a pattern in the list, in these words that I had simply flung forth on paper, trusting my subconscious to give bread, as it were, to the birds. Glancing over the list, I discovered my old love and fright having to do with circuses and carnivals. I remembered, and then forgot, and then remembered again, how terrified I had been when my mother took me for my first ride on a merry-go-round. With the calliope screaming and the world spinning and the terrible horses leaping, I added my shrieks to the din. I did not go near the carousel again for years. When I really did, decades later, it rode me into the midst of Something Wicked This Way Comes.”
Bradbury in The Zen of Writing
It was many years before he was ready to write that story – but what a brilliant one it was. Donald Barthelme’s advice was “Write about what you’re afraid of.” On first thought it seems counter-intuitive - fear is often paralysing. And yet, it’s one of our strongest instincts, and facing it can produce outstanding work, as it did for Bradbury. It just took a little time.
I had a similar, though less impressive experience, with a short story of my own. In my case, it was less about fear, than about an embarrassing and morally uncomfortable situation. When I was reading through my old journals a couple of years ago, I was astonished to discover that I’d made a note about a story idea based on my memories of a church jumble sale. Twenty or so years later, I wrote that story, The Tree of Knowledge, and it was shortlisted for the Asham Prize in 2008. It didn’t go any further and was never published, but it was a turning point for me, and helped me take my writing seriously. I particularly loved that the enclosed brief reader’s report emphasised that it was “a proper story.” Praise indeed.
At this story development stage, the point is not to narrow our focus – we are still at the stage of opening up the idea. We’re looking for Brian Eno’s excitement and enthusiasm. Ok, not his – our own – you know what I mean! We don’t want to settle on the first ideas which come along because nearly always they will be too predictable. We should be encouraging our minds to wander around at tangents, not simply get us from A to B.
Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies cards are a very simple tool that can help to shake up our thinking. They are available as actual cards and as a free app for mobile phones. I just checked my app and the one which came up was -
(Organic) machinery
Immediately I think of the brain, and how to access the unconscious mind when we are looking for ideas. A very obvious association, as it’s what I am writing about. The word organic also takes me to thinking of fruit and veggies, and we are back to that creative compost heap. Then nutrition and what I might need to make sure my idea grows up strong and healthy. The right nutrients to build the compost from which it grows. The seeds which may take root, on sandy or stony ground. The ground must be prepared. The seedlings thinned out – some of them thrown back to rot down and provide the nutrients for other stories, maybe one or two are healthy enough to survive transplanting, but the one which has the best chance of survival now has to be tended to thrive. Enough water and sunshine. Don’t dig it up and look at the roots too often. That’s my very pedestrian, rational and linear mind at work… but even so, it generates more ideas.
Other ways to generate ideas using randomness
Open the dictionary and see what word leaps out at you. Google and you’ll find various plot and character generators online. I think they’re a bit too much on the nose - a randomness I have to work harder to make sense of works best. I sometimes use tarot cards or astrology. I am a lapsed witch - long lapsed! - and I can see my sceptical friends scowling at me now, but I’m not suggesting anything psychic - just what Pratchett’s Granny Weatherwax might have called headology. It’s a psychological approach, which mines myths and legends and fairy tales and archetypes - all these provide components of the stories which have stood the test of time - and we must transform them in our own, individual ways.
The intention behind all this is to open up to new ideas, not to close them down. They don’t provide answers – just jumping off points for your creative mind, your imagination.
Once when I’d written myself into a corner, completely stuck when writing my first novel, I asked my Facebook friends for ideas. One suggestion was that I should throw a rock through a window – and that led to the invention of a favourite character and one of my favourite scenes in the novel. Of course lots of ideas were suggested that left my imagination cold - but sometimes you only need one spark to start a fire.
The point is not to be rigid in your application of any of these ideas. It’s all intended to loosen things up. Remember the often-repeated rule of brainstorming – at this stage, it’s important to welcome ideas. to always say” Yes, and…”
Play and playfulness are so important to creativity that I think I’ll maybe write a whole post about it – that’s my transplanted seedling, if you like. Next time, maybe
Ann
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Let The Dog See The Rabbit
Related links for further exploration -
I first encountered freewriting in the Open University Big Red Book – it’s a bit on the expensive side but I did find it useful
If you google, you’ll find lots of pieces about freewriting, but this is one of my favourites – Vivian Wagner in Psychology Today also references lots of other excellent sources, including Dorothea Brande’s Becoming a Writer and Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down The Bones
A piece about Ray Bradbury’s ideas about Writing and Creativity from Zen in The Art of Writing
Fascinating article in the Guardian which discusses the differences between handwriting and typing
Another piece which suggests handwriting may be better for creativity
Quick Video introduction to Brian Eno’s Oblique Strategies