When I don't have much to do, ideas seem to stay away. It's not that common that I don't have much to do, but it certainly happened in the first lockdown when I was suddenly living alone and most of my book contracts were cancelled. Even ideas I'd already had didn't seem to be keen to be worked up. They hid in the (many) shadows of my mind, no longer looking shiny and exciting but either a bit bedraggled and drearier than I had thought they were, or out of place, as thouh they'd wandered into a dark alley in their party finery and were afraid they'd be mugged. They were probably right, to be honest. I wouldn't have done them justice. Their potential would have been wasted making something only half of what it could have been, or that was never finished, an unsaleable string of the wrong words in the wrong places Asset-stripped, really.
But when I'm very busy, more ideas come. They pop thickly to the surface of my mind, like bubbles in soup, announcing themselves with a distacting mental splatter. One is never enough. Once they've started, they keep coming with their gaudy look-at-me finery, parading in front of me as I try to focus on the ideas I need to get the current books finished. They're a bit like a virus. A virus gets into your cell and takes over the manufacturing mechanism to make copies of itself. An idea gets into your brain and takes over your imagination, using your energy to make more ideas or grow the idea that's just got in. It's a hijack. Or maybe a stick-up. Your money or your life. Well, both really.
That's what it comes down to with ideass: your money or your life. I have many more ideas than I will be able to write up in my remaining life, so some choosing has to take place. How do you choose between ideas? The shiniest-looking ideas might not be saleable but they will be so engrossing and such fun to pursue. That's a 'life' choice. Others are more likely to garner an income but are perhaps not quite as exciting. That's a 'money' choice. Of course, the writer's dream is an idea that will bring, rather than take, both. You usually can't tell which they will be, and even if you could theoretically tell, far too much depends on how (that's once you've got beyond 'if') a publisher handles it, from layout to marketing.
I'm currently very busy, so I have lots of ideas. I write them all down and hope a window of opportunity will open before they start to curl at the edges and go a bit stale. I turn them over and examine them carefully, trying to decide which will get more attention. Sometimes I'll mention one to a publisher and see if there's any interest, but I don't like to do that really. It feels a bit like arranging a marriage for your child when she's still a toddler. The idea might grow up not to suit that publisher, and then you have to decide whether to force it into an unnatural shape or break off the engagement — betrayal of the betrothal in one way or another is almost inevitable.
How do you choose between ideas to work up? Is it your money or your life? And how does it work out?
Anne Rooney
@annerooney
Out now
6 comments:
This hits so close to home - I'm in the final stretch of a sabbatical from teaching which was intended to be the do-or-die writing opportunity we all dream of. Even with the disclaimer that covid has affected things, I can't honestly say I've been any more productive than I was whilst teaching full-time. Those tricksy ideas will not be bullied into existence in the down-time! Like you I try to catch them all and hope they'll frame themselves properly in the fullness of time.
Great post - thanks for sharing!
One of my better ideas, followed by the decision, and then the action...,
was to read..
Your Money or Your Life, by Vicki Robin.
I could have done with reading it 30 years earlier, but hey.
I can very much relate to this. It seems almost a law of nature that the busier your brain is, the more creative it will be. Probably it's similar to the phenomenon of having more energy when you do a lot of physical activity (rather than less, as one might expect). The brain, like the body, seems not to be like a jar that gets emptier or fuller, but more like an engine (or a fast-breeder reactor) that performs better and better the harder you drive it. (Engineers, don't @ me).
I do think there were other reasons for the lockdown writers' block, though (apostrophe deliberately placed there). The feeling that everything had changed and that nothing was certain anymore, made it very hard to feel that anything else mattered. It was hard to make up stories when we were all already living in a nightmare.
Yeh, I'm another one that knows this feeling all too well.
Yes! I have a list on my desktop, where I put those ideas - so I don't lose them. Every now and again I read the list and think 'There you are. Don't worry. I'm looking after you'. I hope that they are marinating in my mind - really for when I have time and money in the bank to indulge in working on them. I've realised that doesn't happen enough, though, so I try to give them at least a little bit of weekly time.
Exactly, Moira! Pre-covid, I had an annual meeting at LBF with a publishing director and every year he asked what I wanted to write. I would list some ideas I was really keen on and he'd ponder a bit and then say, 'I know, why don't you write...' and then I had to do whatever it was as that was where he wanted to put his money. I know we're lucky to be in that position, but it is frustrating to watch the best ideas wilting in the corner
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