On the Creative Writing Process
The following is the result of an assignment given to write an Informative Process Essay on any subject the writer may be knowledgable with the process of.
AS A VERY OLD MAN WHO called himself wise once told me, “There is only one truth in this whole universe, and that truth is that there is no truth.” I’ve spent most of my childhood trying figure out what he meant by that, and my conclusion has come to be just this: if everybody believes something different, then no one can be right, that is without a certain amount of blind faith. What people place their faith in depends. It depends on who they are, who they were raised to be, and who they want to be. I suppose those should be taken in a different order, though. For instance, I was raised to be a polite, yet remarkable individual. I want to be the next person to change the world. But none of those things matter nearly as much as who I really am…and I am a storyteller. This is how I tell my stories.
If any of my tales had a mother, she would most certainly be inspiration. She is the beginning, and the truth is, a writer can find inspiration anywhere. It could be in a song, a thought from a movie, books or poems others have written before, or even mundane, everyday life. As a child, the latter seemed to be the most prominent, but now I notice my work expanding to encompass not just my own mind, but also the world around me, which I generally denote as a personal condemnation (genuine inimitability is just as admirable as it is rare). As a matter of fact, I write almost exclusively from inspiration. Now, of course I’m certain that some people work better under pressure, as I’m also certain that Michelangelo wasn’t just told, “Oh, you can paint that ceiling, you know, whenever you feel ‘inspired.’” On the other hand, there are people like me, who have never written a single good piece of work when told they have to have it on someone’s desk by eight AM sharp. A writer, or anybody with any skill, is defined by their work, and I’d much rather have on my records a great paper turned in late than a bad paper turned in on time. But like I said, some work best under such circumstances, I’m just not one of them. Inspiration and inspiration alone is the key to my proverbial lock, and I simply cannot write until my mind tells me to do so.
If one hopes to write good stories, it is imperative that they have at least some psychological understanding of themselves. Whether this is achieved through meditation, religion, or really in-depth sociology classes, a writer’s first job is to make the reader question himself and his surroundings. This is best accomplished through analogies, by activating the reader’s imagination. “So,” you ask, “how do I activate the reader’s imagination?” Simple…by activating your own imagination. Like I said earlier, delve into yourself. It may sound silly, it may feel absurd, but if you really, honestly question every ounce of yourself and seriously forget that you’re perfect in your own imperfection you’ll be scared by what you find, and that is a certain, undeniable fact.
Before a person becomes a writer, or begins writing at all, they are foremost an observer by profession. They lose opinion and output, and in a way become readers of the world around themselves. They learn the art of silence, of just sitting back and watching the show, and from this is where most writers pull stories and develop the voices for their stories and their characters. All the time I find myself purposefully going to public places to watch human beings interact with each other: sitting on a bench near a café, going to the pool togged up in water shoes, swimming trunks, a notepad and pencil, and never even getting in the water. Of course, though pools tend to be the places where I find the most interesting people, the communities often assume (with good right) that I’m either a serial killer or a pedophile. But a writer has to get past looking and acting strange; a writer has to stop caring what other people see in him or her. I mean, if you were writing textbooks about gorillas in the southern Congo, you would be expected to do your research, even if that meant living with them for a while (see Dian Fossey). Writing fiction about humans is no different.
But also, I realize there is another aspect that in this short narrative must be pursued. If inspiration is the great story’s mother, then dreams are most certainly its father. It’s rather amazing, when one thinks about it. Human beings spend thirty-three percent of their lives in sleep, always thinking, always dreaming. We dream every night, and through them have the power to unlock the deepest, most wondrous mysteries of the universe. And yet, very few people pay these dreams much mind. A passing story of humor they may tell their friends the next day at work, but no more. I believe that when we dream, we are asleep with compasses in our hands. They are our very essence attempting to break through, and some have even learned to achieve a state of consciousness while dreaming, controlling and eventually exploring their own psychological selves, me being one of them. We are called Lucid Dreamers, and I believe that it is this ability that has allowed me to generate all of the stories that I have thus far written. Imagine envisioning the very soul of an imaginary person, and then having that person come to life, with their own personality and thoughts. It is literally a dream come true.
When it all comes right down to it, the greatest of us are not who we choose to be. Great people are great because they are ruled by destiny, a factor which they were born with and have absolutely no control over. Some become painters, some become soldiers, and some become rulers. I was born with an imagination that could fathom the unimaginable, and I use it to tell stories. But nonetheless, I have come to the realization that in this big old universe I’m about as useful as tits on a boar. If I want to do anything in this world of mine, my best bet (and this applies to any and everyone) it to just do what I was born to do, and if you were born to change anything, I promise…you will.
AS A VERY OLD MAN WHO called himself wise once told me, “There is only one truth in this whole universe, and that truth is that there is no truth.” I’ve spent most of my childhood trying figure out what he meant by that, and my conclusion has come to be just this: if everybody believes something different, then no one can be right, that is without a certain amount of blind faith. What people place their faith in depends. It depends on who they are, who they were raised to be, and who they want to be. I suppose those should be taken in a different order, though. For instance, I was raised to be a polite, yet remarkable individual. I want to be the next person to change the world. But none of those things matter nearly as much as who I really am…and I am a storyteller. This is how I tell my stories.
If any of my tales had a mother, she would most certainly be inspiration. She is the beginning, and the truth is, a writer can find inspiration anywhere. It could be in a song, a thought from a movie, books or poems others have written before, or even mundane, everyday life. As a child, the latter seemed to be the most prominent, but now I notice my work expanding to encompass not just my own mind, but also the world around me, which I generally denote as a personal condemnation (genuine inimitability is just as admirable as it is rare). As a matter of fact, I write almost exclusively from inspiration. Now, of course I’m certain that some people work better under pressure, as I’m also certain that Michelangelo wasn’t just told, “Oh, you can paint that ceiling, you know, whenever you feel ‘inspired.’” On the other hand, there are people like me, who have never written a single good piece of work when told they have to have it on someone’s desk by eight AM sharp. A writer, or anybody with any skill, is defined by their work, and I’d much rather have on my records a great paper turned in late than a bad paper turned in on time. But like I said, some work best under such circumstances, I’m just not one of them. Inspiration and inspiration alone is the key to my proverbial lock, and I simply cannot write until my mind tells me to do so.
If one hopes to write good stories, it is imperative that they have at least some psychological understanding of themselves. Whether this is achieved through meditation, religion, or really in-depth sociology classes, a writer’s first job is to make the reader question himself and his surroundings. This is best accomplished through analogies, by activating the reader’s imagination. “So,” you ask, “how do I activate the reader’s imagination?” Simple…by activating your own imagination. Like I said earlier, delve into yourself. It may sound silly, it may feel absurd, but if you really, honestly question every ounce of yourself and seriously forget that you’re perfect in your own imperfection you’ll be scared by what you find, and that is a certain, undeniable fact.
Before a person becomes a writer, or begins writing at all, they are foremost an observer by profession. They lose opinion and output, and in a way become readers of the world around themselves. They learn the art of silence, of just sitting back and watching the show, and from this is where most writers pull stories and develop the voices for their stories and their characters. All the time I find myself purposefully going to public places to watch human beings interact with each other: sitting on a bench near a café, going to the pool togged up in water shoes, swimming trunks, a notepad and pencil, and never even getting in the water. Of course, though pools tend to be the places where I find the most interesting people, the communities often assume (with good right) that I’m either a serial killer or a pedophile. But a writer has to get past looking and acting strange; a writer has to stop caring what other people see in him or her. I mean, if you were writing textbooks about gorillas in the southern Congo, you would be expected to do your research, even if that meant living with them for a while (see Dian Fossey). Writing fiction about humans is no different.
But also, I realize there is another aspect that in this short narrative must be pursued. If inspiration is the great story’s mother, then dreams are most certainly its father. It’s rather amazing, when one thinks about it. Human beings spend thirty-three percent of their lives in sleep, always thinking, always dreaming. We dream every night, and through them have the power to unlock the deepest, most wondrous mysteries of the universe. And yet, very few people pay these dreams much mind. A passing story of humor they may tell their friends the next day at work, but no more. I believe that when we dream, we are asleep with compasses in our hands. They are our very essence attempting to break through, and some have even learned to achieve a state of consciousness while dreaming, controlling and eventually exploring their own psychological selves, me being one of them. We are called Lucid Dreamers, and I believe that it is this ability that has allowed me to generate all of the stories that I have thus far written. Imagine envisioning the very soul of an imaginary person, and then having that person come to life, with their own personality and thoughts. It is literally a dream come true.
When it all comes right down to it, the greatest of us are not who we choose to be. Great people are great because they are ruled by destiny, a factor which they were born with and have absolutely no control over. Some become painters, some become soldiers, and some become rulers. I was born with an imagination that could fathom the unimaginable, and I use it to tell stories. But nonetheless, I have come to the realization that in this big old universe I’m about as useful as tits on a boar. If I want to do anything in this world of mine, my best bet (and this applies to any and everyone) it to just do what I was born to do, and if you were born to change anything, I promise…you will.
Labels: creative writing
