Creative Imagination

I’ve been thinking about imagination, about the creative process. I can’t speak for anyone else, but my inner dream life has changed a bit over the years. 

When  I was a child, as the Good Book says, I spoke and I thought as a child.  My daydreams and flights of fancy were very direct.  When I was small, I was the hero of my stories.  In my mind, I rode off on quests, sailed among the stars, rescued the obligatory kids from the burning building (notice how its never adults in the burning building?), and fought the villains personally.

Now, more often than not, I’m not the hero – I’m the narrator.  I think about how I would tell, write, or otherwise present the tale even as it is unfolding in my imagination.  How would I present this in dialogue for a play? What narrative voice would I use for a novel? And for my fellow nerds out there, how would I run this as a game?

It’s true – the story is still interesting, even if I envision it in page layouts.

Some interesting things happened in the transition as I moved from hero to storyteller.  Character diversity for one thing.  Not being the lead allows for characters who don’t have to be me.  Multiple characters, characters with different points of view, characters that don’t have to agree with one another.

And structure: while I am not likely to daydream a full and complete novel, I can extend beyond a single scene, knowing the moment currently in my head is the set up or foreshadowing of a pay off that would occur in a later scene.

And failure: since the hero is no longer an avatar of me personally, it is a little easier to give him (or her, now) failings and incomplete resolutions and less immediate goals.

I don’t know if this is a unique pathology, or if all creative artists take a similar journey, or even if everyone, simply because of our familiarity with stories, follows this sort of path as they grow.  Perhaps, as we grow, we incorporate the lessons we learn into our stories – new ideas like the growing awareness of others as thinking and feeling people in their own right or the knowledge that life isn’t all successes and happy endings.

Or maybe it’s just me.

Ella Sings

Does the world really need one more vampire story?

Before I answer that question, let me break into a seemingly irrelevant anecdote that will, of course, turn out to be a useful analogy.

I was sitting at my computer the other day and I decided to search for some music. I ended up on You Tube, like one does, and I found some old concert footage of Bobby Darin singing “Mack the Knife.” I noticed that one of the comments posted under the video, stating that only Bobby Darin could really do the song justice – other performers just didn’t get the timing.

I thought that was a particularly inane thing to say. The song in question has been performed by Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra and, believe it or not, Jimmy Buffet. You honestly mean to say that none of these professional, established, highly accomplished and very talented musicians can get the timing on a song?

The point is, the other performers had their own ideas. They probably had the skills to do a Bobby Darin impersonation, but why would they do that? They chose not to be Bobby Darin (or, in at least some of the cases, Bobby Darin probably chose not to be them – I’m not sure of the chronology). I mean really, would you rather hear Ella Fitzgerald belt a song out of the park as Ella or hear her do a pale imitation of someone else?

Does the world need another vampire story? Or another romance novel?  Or another television show following the adventures of a starship crew?  Another urban paranormal detective?

It needs at least one more: Yours.

But only if it really is yours, and not a poor rendition of someone else’s work.  The world doesn’t need a Bobby Darin wannabe. Or, I guess, maybe a  Steven King wannabe.

Artists use the same tools.  Writers reiterate themes and genres and metaphors the way musicians cover songs.  No sin there. Sometimes it’s even good that the audience is aware of the conventions of the genre, familiar with the style.

But everyone has their own unique perspective, too.  Trying to be someone else is no way to succeed in art.  At best, it’s a useful learning exercise.  But I’m never going to buy an imitation when the original master is still publishing at the same price.  Who would?

Today’s inspirational message was brought to you by the letter M and the numbers one and three.

Please Read Responsibly

There’s been a lot of discussion on the prevalence of violence in our entertainment media and its possible impact on our culture. 

Now me, I’m an escapist. My entertainment choices don’t run toward realistic thoughtful drama. I like the occasional big explosion.

I also have an interest in genre conventions. And I tend to value them over strict realism.

So I’m probably not the right person to discuss responsible media. As an escapist, I learned early on to not consider my entertainments real (a healthy lesson, I’m thinking).  And as genre guy, I totally expect depictions of violence (and sex and government and other real world things) to vary in weight and consequence depending on the material I’m watching.

I wonder some times if the responsibility in responsible media should be approached from the other side – maybe we need to educate more responsible, intelligent readers and viewers.

Still, writers do need to take a share, too.  I once saw Neil Gaiman speak at a convention about agreeing to write Neverwhere for the BBC. One thing he said was that he didn’t want to be responsible for making homelessness (a central element of the story) look cool.

That’s sensible and reasonable and makes for a better story anyway. So maybe the lesson is to write sensibly. 

So, a parting thought: They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but we license guns and give access to social media sites away for free. Scary, huh?

Making Dinner Before Breakfast

I don’t usually cook first thing in the morning. Today, however, that’s exactly what I did. When you plan to run the crock pot for eight hours, well, I guess it’s an early start or a late dinner.

I’m an okay cook if I have a recipe. I can follow a formula. Today, however, I’m experimenting with some spices a friend suggested. These little deviations from the book usually lead to my biggest successes in the kitchen. And my biggest failures.

The best cooks, of course, are those that have done this for years and know why things are on the recipe and how changing the recipe will work and what changes to avoid. But you don’t get there by being afraid to experiment.

Now, gentle reader, I assume you are not an idiot and that you have already gotten the metaphor. I’ve spent several of the last posts discussing structures and formulae. I wanted to take a moment to remind us all that writing strictly by formula is often passable but generally falls short of genius.

If you know the formula/structure/recipe when you start, you have an advantage. But becoming a better writer, like becoming a better cook (or a better anything, really) requires a type of learning and discovery that only comes from practice.

Take risks, experiment, get advice from people you trust, and have fun with it. Throw your failures in the recycle bin. If you keep at it, people will remember your successes.

Secrets and Lies

Stories often feature surprises -- unforeseen events, betrayals, characters who are not what they seem... At the very basic level, there are two types of surprises: things that catch the story's characters off-guard and things that actually surprise the reader. There is also a bit of a sliding scale, from things that are foreshadowed so that someone who is paying attention will be less surprised to events that are so out of left-field that no one sees them coming.

How you chose to handle such things changes the flavor of your story and even, possibly, the world in which it is set. A few examples...

In The Lord of the Rings the point is made that a servant of the enemy might appear fair, but would somehow feel foul. Grima Wormtounge may have seduced the ear of Theodan, but his evil is not in question to the reader (or many in Theodan's court, for that matter). But then Middle-Earth is the sort of place where good and evil are almost tangible forces. It's the sort of world where the armies of darkness are defeated at dawn, as if the sun itself rose to oppose them. So while a character may be briefly deceived, the attentive reader rarely is.

In Shakespeare's Othello, on the other hand, Iago appears perfectly trustworthy and upright -- as long as Othello is in the room. But in Shakespeare, one of the theatrical devices is that characters reveal their inner thoughts in solliloquies and in speeches to their allies and accomplices. This convention allows Shakespeare to show Iago's villainy clearly to the audience without him having to ooze slime blatantly when lying to the Moor.

In modern stories, a betraying character often gives no more clue to the reader than they do to the protaganist. The writer, while hopefully playing fair, wants to take the reader off-guard when the coat turns. This style portrays a world that is more realistic (relatively speaking) and dangerous, compared to worlds where the forces of darkness always feel foul.

Interesting how what is essentially a plotting and presentation decision changes the feel of the setting, isn't it?

And a quick teaser before I take my leave: I'm planning to do something a little different with this blog in April. After all, I wouldn't want things to get dull. Stay tuned for more details.

Writing about Thinking about Thinking about Writing

Over the past several posts, I've reflected on various aspects of writing and story creation. I've poked at word choice and character development and object significance. I've rambled about making stories satisfying and characters likable. And a question has occurred to me. I think it is a fair question and a question that needs to be asked. Do writers really think about this stuff?

I don't know. Maybe?

I think most of the other writers that I've had the pleasure to speak with would agree that when you are actually writing -- when the words are flowing from your brain to your fingertips to your keyboard or notepad -- don't stop. This is not the time to wonder about where to place the commas. That's what rewrites are for.

Me? I think about this stuff in the shower. I think about it when I'm taking long walks, wondering if my background characters need more screen time. When the resolution to my big conflict feels too easy. When the funny bits actually need to be, well, you know, funny.

All these reflections and ideas that we've been discussing are tools. Mostly I pull out the tool box when I think the story is broken. The story isn't ready until you say it is ready. There is always time for a few good repairs.

But I suppose there is also something to be said for craftsmanship. The carpenter who has a good set of tools and knows when to use them will make a better table, right from the start.

Thinking about writing, about the craft of writing and the tools of writing, can help improve your writing. How could it do otherwise?