For the next few months, I’m going to talk about writing, specifically the foundational step of starting to write. You have the desire, but now what? What should I write about? Where do ideas come from? Many writers wrestle with these questions without realizing they already have the answers, if they simply knew where to look for them. I struggled with them, and since I’m not a unicorn, I assume there are more of you out there with the same conundrum.
Where do we find inspiration? In the traditional workshop setting, writers are taught to look for ideas outside themselves or externally. You might have been given writing prompts or told that story ideas can be found in the local Sunday newspaper. When you found none, you might have thrown the paper down in disgust and vowed to move to another, more interesting city. You might have been inspired by a book or film, or been tempted to steal a juicy story that happened to someone else. This might have worked, but more often it didn’t.
For every borrowed idea that succeeds, you will have at least 25 that are weak, uninspired, or derivative, because the idea itself is external to you. Put another way, you found the idea, but it didn’t come from you.
The problem is that we are taught the idea will present itself, so we expect to see the neon arrow pointing at the Great Idea. Sometimes, you may spot an idea in the wild, and please use whatever material you find this way, but it won’t happen often. And when it doesn’t, we feel deficient. Our gurus told us that ideas are everywhere, so there must be something wrong with our brains. Maybe we’re not up to the job.
I argue – and wish I had known – that the best ideas, the stories that drive you, that you must write, come from within. They are internal. And when we can’t find any, that’s still where we need to look, only more deeply and thoroughly. That’s where the obstacle hides.
In Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott wrote “Anyone who survived childhood has enough material to write for the rest of his or her life.” I didn’t believe that when I read it for the first time 30+ years ago. With added mileage and context, I believe it now. You have more material in your head than you will be able to write in your lifetime, if only you could identify it as material.
Through the rest of this blog series, I’m not going to talk about writing stories or even generating story ideas, but on discovering your base raw material. That might sound like three words for the same thing, but it’s not. Crafting premises and transforming them into a story are actually entirely different topics.
Instead, I’ll suggest places to look for your raw material and exercises to help you dig for it. Occasionally, I will write with you, to demonstrate my thoughts in action. By sharing what I know, I hope I can help you cut down on that 30+ year learning curve.
And maybe, you’ll find your own ideas and some stories worth telling.
Who am I writing for?
I’m writing for anyone who wonders how to get started or even to feel inspired, more connected to their writing and their voice, regardless of your age or writing experience. We all have to start somewhere, and while a lot of us start in our youth, I know many writers who came to it in their second or third act.
Longtime writers who feel uninspired or disconnected from their work may also find something of value. When you feel lost, sometimes the best place to look is inside.
If you don’t believe you already have enough material for the rest of your life, or believe your thoughts are mediocre or dull, or believe no one would be interested in your voice, I’m writing with you in mind and I would like to say: You do. They aren’t. We are.
This is what I wish I’d known.
Ground Rules
Before we begin, let’s set some ground rules and also let’s make this as painless as possible by setting only one rule, the only one you absolutely must follow.
You must write.
That’s it. The #1 (and Only) Rule of Writing is that you must do it. It’s not enough to want to do it, think about doing it, or complain about doing it. You must sit still and engage in the physical act of writing.
That’s it. That’s all the rules.
As you study, you will read a lot of advice camouflaged as rules. Some of this advice is very good, but much of it is based on the preferences of the person sharing it. Even if you find that 10 out of 10 writers agree that a piece of advice is very, very good, so good in fact that it should be a rule chipped into stone, you will also find a separate cadre of creative people who do not abide by this advice and have written successfully while ignoring it.
Every writer – every writer – has their own approach to creativity and the work they produce. There is no single correct way to explore or express your creativity. Eight billion people on this planet have the capacity for creative expression and each of us goes about it differently.
I wish someone had told me that.
I will argue that it’s important to understand the rules of writing, including how they work and why we have them, so that you can break them intelligently and with flair, but none of them are inviolate.
Except for Rule #1. You don’t have to publish, you don’t have to show it to anyone. It doesn’t even have to be good writing, not yet. But you must put it down.
Seriously. This is all you have to do.
Caveat
As with any writing about the craft of writing, your mileage may vary. Not all advice works for every writer or for every story. Engage with the content and material in any way that makes the most sense for you. If a suggestion is not relevant to your creative work or doesn’t jibe with your vision, ignore it.
In the interest of brevity, I will phrase my observations and advice with direct statements. Please accept all of my statements as opinion, even where they don’t begin with “In my opinion…”
Now let’s write.