Category Archives: Ideas/Creativity

Warehouse of Unwritten Stories

Today we visit a warehouse, a dark and dusty place of vast dimensions. Innumerable cobwebs stretch between wall and ceiling. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of crates stand stacked in utter disorder. We’ve entered the warehouse of your unwritten stories.

Most writers don’t suffer from a lack of ideas. Story ideas spring up all the time, born from new experiences, fresh acquaintances, travels, chance meetings, TV shows, daily life, other writers’ books—from everywhere. Many authors scribble these ideas or tap a note on their phone and save them in a file for later use. Let’s picture that file as a warehouse, into which more crates accumulate every day.

What happens to the items in there? On rare occasions, I venture into my warehouse, open an interesting crate, and write the story. Infrequent, but it happens. Most of the crates remain there, unopened, unexamined, gathering dust. I suspect your warehouse looks much the same.

In this helpful post on LifeHacker, writer Nick Douglas provides several methods of dealing with all these unused ideas. He doesn’t use the warehouse metaphor—he calls the phenomenon ‘Idea Debt.’ I’ll summarize his options here, in my own words, but I encourage you to read his post.

Mr. Douglas’ approach presupposes that you’ve rummaged through your warehouse, become overwhelmed, and fled in despair. So many good story ideas, so little time. Douglas’ steps represent a way to assess the warehouse inventory, sort it, and reduce the backlog.

  1. Shrink and Submit. Some of the best and most time-sensitive ideas might lend themselves to this method. Look at the idea and imagine the smallest viable product you can make from it. If you originally saw it as a novel, consider a short story, even flash fiction. Look for a way to turn it into a written product quickly, and get it done and submitted. Sure beats letting it linger in the warehouse.
  • Add to WIP. The smaller ideas, maybe just character sketches or scenes without a plot, could work here. Examine the idea for inclusion into your current work in progress. If it fits, presto, you’ve reduced some clutter already.
  • Gift It. Still have a lot of crates in the warehouse? Some you’ll gaze at, thinking, ‘I’ll never find time to write that,’ or ‘I’m not the one to write that.’ Maybe you know another writer who could use it. Give it to that writer. That’s how I ended up writing After the Martians. Another author gave the idea to me. Douglas also suggests you could post your idea/gift on social media as a giveaway.
  • Give Them Away. Looking around, you still see way too many crates. Face it, you’re never going to get around to most of them. The one-at-a-time process of gifting in step 3 would take forever. Time to break out the forklifts, load up the semi-truck, drive to the center of town, and dump the crates by the side of the road. In other words, gather the ideas in one long list and post the list on an open forum for others to use.
  • Manage the Remainder. What’s left in the warehouse now? Only those ideas that can’t be shrunk, won’t fit in your WIP, and are too valuable to give away. For those, you must become a disciplined project manager (or use an app that helps you become one). Writing those stories is now your next project.  Set goals, organize the work, break it down into tasks, schedule and accomplish the tasks. Get those stories written and submitted.

Wow! Your warehouse is empty, thanks mostly to Nick Douglas and, in lesser degree, to—

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 28, 2024Permalink

Would the Julie & Julia Formula Work for You?

If you’re struggling as a writer, not achieving the success you imagined, Catherine Baab-Muguira has a solution for you. She calls it the Julie and Julia Formula. Does that formula work?

In a wonderful blogpost on Jane Friedman’s site, Ms. Baab-Muguira described the formula. At its essence, she says “you can reach your dreams by loving another person’s work.”

Give your obsession free reign, she says, and your book will write itself, fueled—even supercharged—by your passion.

That formula worked for Julie Powell and her obsession with Julia Child—several books and a movie resulted. It worked for Ms. Baab-Muguira and her obsession with Edgar Allan Poe. It also worked for several other authors whom she lists in her post. I’m happy for the success of those authors, and find it easy to see why the formula can work.

Most writers choose subjects or settings or genres over which they obsess a bit. But the J&J Formula is more than just ‘write what you know.’ It’s more like ‘channel your passion for another person (often another writer) into a sort of tribute book.’

The formula can work because:

  • You’re an expert on, and confident about, your subject;
  • Your passion for the subject will infuse your work, creating enthusiasm in the reader; and
  • That same passion will sustain you throughout the writing project, helping you to power through the down times.

However, just because the J&J Formula sometimes works, that doesn’t guarantee success in your case (nor does Ms. Baab-Muguira claim it will). I believe two factors determine whether the formula will work for you:

  • The popularity of the person (or subject) you’re obsessing over; but mostly,
  • How well you write

As I said, your obsession will suffuse your writing, resulting in passionate prose. However, if you obsess over someone or something obscure or uninteresting to others, you’ll have to make up for that through truly strong or unique writing. (I’m thinking here of the famous honey badger video).

Conversely, even if you obsess over a very popular person, poor writing won’t gain you many readers.

In short, the J&J Formula may work, but don’t think of it as a sure-fire path to mega-sales.

In my own case, perceptive followers of my blog know of my passion for the novels of Jules Verne. However, you’ll search the best-seller lists in vain for any mention of my name (so far). Is that due to Verne’s obscurity, to my lack of writing talent, to my poor execution of the J&J Formula, or to some defect in the Formula itself? Who knows?

My own formula, for what it’s worth, comprises four words—write well and often. I believe good writing tends to get noticed. Even if it doesn’t, you’ll be proud of having written it. The J&J Formula may prove a good way for you to write well and often, but it’s not the only way.

If you’re writing a lot with nothing to show for all that work, give the Julie and Julia Formula a try. Perhaps you’ll succeed with it, as others have. If not, well, you got no rose-garden promises from—

Poseidon’s Scribe

December 3, 2023Permalink

Stories from the Grand Hotel

If you’d love to write a story, are unsure what to write about, and you think every possible story has already been written, don’t worry. So long as you don’t plagiarize, there’s room in the world for your story.

It may seem like writers before you already used every possible plot, character type, setting, theme, mood, and style. Maybe they have, but not in the combination you’ll use. None of the previous authors brought the distinct flair to their stories that you’ll bring to yours.

What does this have to do with the ‘grand hotel’ mentioned in this post’s subject? Everything.

In 1924, German mathematician David Hilbert introduced what’s come to be known as the ‘paradox of the Grand Hotel.’ Imagine a big hotel, so big it contains an infinite number of rooms. You arrive at the front desk and ask if you can have a room for the night. The receptionist says the hotel is full, with every room occupied, but there are vacancies.

That makes no sense, but the receptionist picks up the public address microphone and directs all guests to move from their current room to the next higher numbered room. The receptionist then offers you Room number 1. Problem solved.

You enjoy your stay there. The next time you’re in town, you go to that hotel again. You forget to get a reservation ahead of time (again), and this time you’re accompanied by an infinite number of friends who all want separate rooms.

The receptionist again says the hotel is full, but also says there’s no problem accommodating you and your friends. Over the PA system, the receptionist instructs all current guests to move from their room to the one with a number two times their current room number. The receptionist then checks you and your many friends into the odd-numbered rooms.

You get where I’m going with this. We live in a world filled with an infinite number of stories, and they’ve all been written before. Even so, there’s room for yours. Since it will bear similarities to previous stories, lawyers would call it derivative. Don’t copy character names or significant sections of text from previously published work—lawyers call that copyright infringement. Stay clear of plagiarizing, and the possibilities still go on without end.

In fact, even if your brain teems with an infinite number of story ideas, you can write them all (well, as many as a human lifespan allows). The world can accommodate an infinite number of writers, each writing an infinite number of stories.

Write as many stories as you can. There’s room for them all, as well as those written by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

July 17, 2022Permalink

After Your Great Idea – the Difficult Part

Got a great story idea, have you? All that’s left is to type up the words, send them to a publisher, and start spending all that advance money, right?

Not so fast.

First, I suggest you read this wonderful guest blogpost by author Elizabeth Sims, posting on Jane Friedman’s site. Sims gives indispensable advice about how to convert an idea into a story. I’ll give my own spin on her guidance below, but her post explains it in more detail.

She describes four techniques to use. You may use them singly or in combination. Sims says you can take your original story idea and bend it, amp it, drive it, and strip it.

Bend It

Take your idea and shape it into something worth reading. Alter it nearly beyond recognition. Change it in ways that make it more exciting and dramatic. Isaac Asimov read The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon and imagined the decline and fall of a future galactic empire. He bent the idea further by adding an advanced science called ‘psychohistory’ which predicted the fall of the empire, then wrote his Foundation Series.

Amp It

Your story idea includes some characters with goals, motivations, and problems. Okay, now crank up the volume. Make the goals nearly unreachable, the motivations into obsessions, the problems nearly unsolvable. Raise the stakes. Frank Herbert dabbled with growing mushrooms and enjoyed watching the moving sand dunes near Florence, Oregon. From those interests came Dune, a novel of prophesies, magic, royal family destinies, drug-induced mental states, treachery, self-doubts, and impossible odds.

Drive It

Carry your story idea to extreme ends, ultimate possibilities, and previously unexplored realms. Where ‘Amp It’ has you elevating internal character emotions and personalities, ‘Drive It’ is where you supercharge the plot. Disgusted by what he’d read of the communist Soviet Union, George Orwell took that as a starting point and drove it toward the bitter and dismal future of Nineteen Eighty-Four. Stalin became Big Brother. Secret police became ubiquitous spy cameras. Propaganda became the language of Newspeak and the concept of doublethink. Soviet slogans became “War is Peace, Freedom is Slavery, Ignorance is Strength.”

Strip It

If your idea gets too big and the novel threatens to overwhelm you, cut it down to size. Readers can’t keep track of an entire world, but they can follow a single character. If you portray that character well enough, readers will understand the metaphor—through that one character, you’re representing many. Angered by a newspaper advertisement urging the U.S. Government to unilaterally suspend testing of nuclear weapons, Robert A. Heinlein could have taken Tolstoy’s War and Peace and set it in outer space. Instead, for Starship Troopers, he wrote a stripped-down version, describing an interstellar war from the perspective of a single soldier in the Mobile Infantry.

Now that you have Bend It, Amp It, Drive It, and Strip It in your writer’s toolkit, take another look at your story idea. Just think of the possibilities, all because you read this post by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

June 6, 2021Permalink

Writing for Jules Verne

Here’s a thought experiment for you. It’s 1868, and your close friend, Jules Verne, is deathly ill. Since you’re an author too, he’s asked you to write a novel in his stead. All he’s got is a concept—a ship that travels underwater—and a title: Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. You cannot refuse your friend. What will your novel be like?

Remember, nobody has ever written a novel involving a submarine. Yours will be the first. You jot down some plot ideas:

  • A single nation is the first to build and use a working military submarine. Perhaps it’s your beloved France; or the mighty seapower, Great Britain; or the science-loving and adventurous United States.
  • Some wealthy and inventive person builds a submarine and uses it purely for exploration and the advancement of Science.
  • A wealthy and evil man builds a submarine and uses it for vengeance against those who have wronged him.
  • A man is convinced Atlantis exists, and builds a submarine to search for it.
  • A sailor lost someone close (a brother?) to a specific and recognizable giant squid, and builds a submarine to pursue and destroy the creature. (If Melville’s Moby-Dick was successful, this could be too.)
  • Perhaps combine the scientist and the vengeance-obsessed pirate, and tell the story from his (or her?) point of view.
  • A sailor falls in love with a woman he believes is a mermaid, but she dives underwater. He builds a submarine and travels 20,000 leagues in search of her.
  • A treasure-hunter builds a submarine and recovers gold and other valuables from sunken ships.
  • A nation announces a huge prize for whichever privately-built submarine wins a 20,000-league race.
  • A clever criminal builds a submarine and robs banks along various coasts, escaping underwater. A detective hero must track him down.

After an hour, you’ve written down these ideas and another 20 more. Now you must select the best one. Will your eventual novel be as good as the one Jules would have written, had he not become ill?

We’ll never know, of course. It’s just a thought experiment. In real life, Verne wrote his marvelous novel himself, without your help. For its first publication, it was serialized in the Magasin d’éducation et de recreation, edited by Pierre-Jules Hetzel. The issue containing the final chapter came out on June 20, 1870.

That means June 20 of this year, just 13 days from now, is the 150th anniversary, the sesquicentennial, of that undersea classic. To commemorate this date, I’ve partnered with Kelly A. Harmon, Senior Editor at Pole to Pole Publishing, to edit an anthology of short stories inspired by Verne’s masterwork.

Titled 20,000 Leagues Remembered, it will launch on June 20. We’ve chosen 16 wonderful stories for the volume, each taking a different approach, but all born from a love of Jules Verne’s fantastic adventure novel. Each one captures some aspect of the adventure, the wonder, and the drama of Twenty Thousand Leagues.

Perhaps Verne’s book is no longer new to you, but these 16 stories will be. Beginning on June 20, you’ll be able to buy the ebook version of our anthology at Pole to Pole Publishing’s website or at other online booksellers. Pole to Pole will put out a paperback print version as soon as possible after that.

Back to that thought experiment. I’m sure you thought of some possible story ideas yourself, in addition to the ones I listed. Feel free to add a comment to this blogpost, sharing one or more of your ideas with—

Poseidon’s Scribe

June 7, 2020Permalink

4 Strategies for Coping with a Distracted Muse

Your muse gives you a great story idea. You just started writing the story and your muse arrives again and whispers about a second, completely different, story. “But I’m not done with the first one,” you say. Actually, forget both of those,” the muse says, “I’ve got a third story for you…”

Your muse, like all of them, isn’t the most focused entity around. Easily distracted by new and shiny objects, she comes up with fresh ideas all the time.

However, she never sticks around to help write the stories. She leaves that task to you. Moreover, her rate of creating ideas is far faster than your rate of story writing. As a writer, how do you handle this backlog problem?

Before I list various coping strategies, be aware that WIP is a term writers use meaning Work in Progress, the story you’re actively working on. Here, now, are some ways to deal with the idea backlog problem. You could:

  1. Start each story as your muse suggests it, and deal with having several WIPs at once.
  2. Make a list of all story ideas as your muse suggests them, and come back to that list as you finish each WIP.
  3. Ignore your muse while working on your WIP, accepting that you’ll lose some ideas.
  4. Restrict your stories to a series about a single set of characters or a single genre, and ignore your muse’s ideas that don’t fit those restrictions.

There may be other techniques as well, and I’d love to hear you tell me about them.

Many writers opt for the first strategy of writing several WIPs at once. They shift from story to story, progressing as their enthusiasm and focus allow. This has the advantage of starting each story when the idea is fresh, but the potential disadvantages of mixing up stories or never finishing any.

Others maintain a lengthening list of story ideas, updated each time the muse whispers. They work on a single story until it’s finished, then pick the next WIP from the list. This keeps the writer focused on one WIP without losing any ideas, but the writer might return to the listed story idea and not recall the muse’s enthusiasm that made it a good idea.

Some simply ignore the muse while writing a single WIP. This is probably more common among novelists than among short story writers. Novelists must maintain total focus for the long term to finish their WIP. This allows that focus, but risks losing some good ideas.

If you can restrict your writing to one genre or setting or a set of characters, then you can disregard any ideas from your muse that don’t fit. This certainly works as long as you remain enthusiastic about your chosen niche.

Your chosen strategy will depend on your particular circumstances, including the persuasiveness and creativity of your muse, and your ability to focus or willingness to work on several WIPs at once. If one strategy doesn’t work for you, try a different one, or combine them.

Gotta go. My muse just whispered a great story idea to—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 25, 2018Permalink

Giftwrapping an Idea

Most gifts are tangible things, items that occupy space and have weight. But writers tread the realm of visions and dreams, thoughts and imaginings. You can’t give those things as gifts, can you? Well…

Author Andrew Gudgel and I were exchanging gifts at holiday time a few years ago. He’d been talking (for well over a year) about a story idea he had. I thought it was wonderful and kept urging him to write the story. Instead, as a gift to me, he said, “You write it.”

There were some tangible things he also gave me, the notes he’d compiled while preparing to write the story. But the real gift was the idea, and he’d given it to me.

I know, I’ve blogged before that ideas are the easy part, the trivial part, the dime-a-dozen part, and I’ve said the hard part is actually scribbling down the story and polishing it until you can sell it.

Let me caveat that now. Some ideas are more valuable than others are. Some are gold. Some are more valuable to a writer other than the one who thought of them. Such was the case with Andrew’s idea; he sensed I loved it more than he did, and that I would not hesitate to run with it. For him, it was in the ‘I’ll get to it someday’ bin.

From Andrew’s idea came my story “After the Martians.” In partial payment to him, I named a character in the story after him. If you add the value of that to the value of whatever silly gift I gave him that year, you’d still fall far short of what he gave me. I was out-gifted, plain and simple.

As Andrew so eloquently put it in his blog: “’Ideas rot if you don’t do something with them,’ said the writer Edd Dumbill. I agree. By keeping a creative idea locked away in your head/on your hard-drive/in your notebooks, it’s not free to enrich the world. Think about it this way: you may be fated to conceive of the idea and to give birth to it, but not to be the one who raises it to maturity. That may be someone else’s task. So, if after a period of sober reflection, you come to the conclusion that you’re not going to make use of an idea, give it away—throw it to a creative friend, put it on your blog, launch it out into the public sphere—and give someone else the opportunity to enrich the world with it.”

For completeness, I should mention another, earlier example of giving an idea as a gift, though this still causes me anguish and shame.

Many years and several critique groups ago, I was in a group with Raymond (not his real name). Each month, Raymond contributed a new chapter of the novel he was writing. One day, we found out Raymond had died. I don’t recall the circumstances, whether illness or accident, but he was far too young.

I got a letter from his widow saying that in his final days, Raymond had told her he wanted me to finish his novel, and she was asking if I’d do that.

Wow. Tough dilemma. On one hand, I couldn’t refuse a request from the widow of a friend and fellow writer, could I? She wasn’t asking for that much—just complete the story he’d almost finished and send it out for publication. She wasn’t asking for a portion of the payments, if the novel made money.

On the other hand, I didn’t have the passion for the story that Raymond did. I didn’t think I could do it justice. The novel involved a plot and genre type that had already saturated the market. It didn’t seem to me that readers were begging for another such novel.

In the end, I turned down the offer, with regrets. Perhaps I should have taken it, but I didn’t. Raymond’s idea deserved a champion who cared about it as deeply as he had. I was not that writer.

As you can see, it is possible to get wrapping paper, ribbons, and bows around something as insubstantial as an idea, a whim. If you’re struggling to do it, and can’t quite figure out how to cut and enclose, fold and tape the darn thing, if you need an expert guide, call—

Poseidon’s Scribe

June 11, 2017Permalink

Are All the Good Story Ideas Taken Already?

You’d like to write a story, but every time you think of an idea, you realize someone else wrote that one already. You figure all the good story ideas are used up. That’s it. There are no more. The last original novel has been written.

I don’t think so. New books, movies, and TV shows are coming out all the time.

no-story-ideasNo, you protest. Those aren’t new. They’re just rehashes or remakes of old ideas, with some new flair added. They’re just old stories brought into modern times, well-used story lines put in a new setting, or known plotlines with the main characters’ genders reversed.

If so, that’s great news for you. It means you don’t have to think of something completely original, either. If rehashes or slight twists work so well, then you can succeed with that method, too. That’s the message Melissa Donovan delivers very well in this post.

I think what you’re really telling me is, you’re stuck for an idea, and every time you think of one, you recognize you’d be copying what someone has already done.

There’s a particular genre you enjoy reading, and you consider yourself knowledgeable about that genre, and you’d like to see if you can write a story yourself. But you see that field as being well-plowed already. For every story idea, you immediately think of the existing, published story that used that idea.

You’re just in a mental rut, that’s all. It’s possible to climb back out.

Here are some suggestions for coming up with story ideas. These might work for you, or they might spark thoughts about other ways to accomplish the same thing:

  1. Do Internet or Twitter searches for trending key words. Combining seemingly unrelated key words might result in the nugget of a story idea. I’m convinced that’s how Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird came up with the idea for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
  2. Search websites in your genre for words or thoughts that are trending. Those might suggest story ideas.
  3. Try the Suzanne Collins method. She came up with the idea for The Hunger Games while flipping TV channels. That turned out all right for her and might work for you.
  4. Pick two books at random off your shelf at home and see if you could combine the two in some way. If not, pick two other books.
  5. Try the generational/nostalgic method. Look for what was popular 25-30 years ago, and update it. First you have a new audience who wasn’t around when the original came out. Second, the older folks in your audience will appreciate the nostalgic trip down memory lane.
  6. Take a song you like (either instrumental or voice), and think of the story that might go along with that song.
  7. Take an interesting picture or image from anywhere (web, your own life, magazines, etc.) and think of the story behind that image.
  8. Take a favorite character from a book or movie, and consider what you enjoy about that character. What if that character was completely different in appearance? For example, if that beloved character was a handsome, young, athletic man, what if you wrote about an older, plump woman with the same abilities and faced with similar conflicts?

Your next story idea is out there. Be open and receptive, and let it find you. Oh, and be sure to send a comment thanking—

Poseidon’s Scribe

September 12, 2016Permalink

After the Martians—the Story Behind the Story

It’s the question readers ask authors most often: “Where do you get your ideas?” I’ve blogged about that before, but today I’ll reveal the birth of the idea behind my just-launched book,AftertheMartians72d “After the Martians.”

It wasn’t my idea at all.

My friend, fellow author, and critique group partner, Andy Gudgel, thought of the idea. Heaven knows where he got it. At one of our critique group meetings, he mentioned he’d like to write a sequel to H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds, but his story would deal with the aftermath, with dead Martians lying around, but also their technology. After all, the tripod fighting machines would be still standing where they stopped. The assembly machines would be intact and stationary near the landing sites of the Martian projectiles. Even a few flying machines might be available.

Andy’s idea was that humans would then use these weapons in a very different version of World War I.

This notion captivated me, and I urged him to write the story. Each time he sent us manuscripts of other tales, I’d ask him about the Martian story. “This one’s good, Andy,” I’d say, “but when are you going to give us that War of the Worlds sequel?”

Then at one December meeting, (at which we exchange little gifts to each other), I unwrapped his gift to me, and there were all his notes, and his copy of H.G. Wells’ novel. A note stated he was giving his story idea to me. I should write the tale, since he would not likely ever get around to it.

Wow! That could be the greatest gift one writer could give to another.

I say ‘could be’ because of an emotionally painful event that happened to me some twenty years earlier. At that time, I belonged to a different writing critique group. One other group member had written more than half of his novel. As I recall, it involved a modern-day (well, mid-1990s) nuclear attack on the United States.

Sadly, this writer died young. He had not completed writing that novel, let alone sent it to any agents or publishers.

His wife wrote to me to say how much her husband had appreciated my critiques of his work, and said he’d wanted me to finish, and seek publication of, his novel.

With a heavy heart, I had to decline the offer, but found it gut-twisting to tell his widow that. To write a story, I must have passion about it and care deeply about it and about the characters. I just didn’t feel that way in this case. Moreover, even if I’d had that enthusiasm, I would have had to rewrite large portions of the other writer’s novel to make it mine, and would have felt terrible about not honoring the deceased writer’s wishes exactly, or not living up to his hopes.

In the case of Andy’s WotW sequel, he hadn’t started writing yet. He’d compiled some notes and a rough outline, but I decided to take the story in a different direction than he’d planned. I didn’t feel badly about that, since he hadn’t begun the actual writing and my passion drove me toward the story that became “After the Martians.”

That’s the story behind the story written by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 15, 2016Permalink

Arte/Scienza

Here is the fifth post in my series. I’ve been discussing how the seven principles put forth by Michael J. Gelb in his book How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci relate to fiction writing. Today’s principle is Arte/Scienza, or “Development of the balance between science and art, logic and imagination, ‘whole-brain’ thinking.”

ArteScienzaIn the book, Gelb demonstrates how Leonardo embodied the kind of balanced thinking intended by the term Arte/Scienza. His artistic paintings contain precise mathematical shapes and geological features. His scientific and engineering drawings are, themselves, works of art. Da Vinci didn’t distinguish between the two.

Sure, you’re saying, that’s all very well for ol’ Leo, born way back in 1452. But a lot has happened since then, particularly on the science side. There’s too much to learn to be an expert in both art and science. The two are way too different these days.

Artists are all about brushes and canvas, lighting and shadow, color and imagery. They’re out to discover beauty, or deliver a message, or say something significant about human nature.

On the other hand, scientists groove on equations and numbers, test tubes and Bunsen burners, experiments and technical papers. They’re out to discover truth, and to solve the mysteries of how the universe works.

In our modern world, we’re used to a high wall between Arte and Scienza. The two are so specialized, require such different talents, and their practitioners use such different jargon that it’s difficult to imagine one person combining the two in equal measure. Even books discussing Leonardo da Vinci separate the chapters for his artwork from those of his scientific endeavors.

Today we speak of being left-brained or right-brained, as if each of us is putting only half our brain to work and leaving the other half idle.

Michael Gelb discusses how you can use the philosophy of Arte/Scienza in your everyday life, and promotes the use of mind maps, which I also advocate.

My purpose is to discuss how Arte/Scienza applies to fiction writing. Most fiction writers identify more with artists than with scientists. They consider fiction writing a kind of art, and believe their creative temperament matches that of painters more than that of researchers. (The exception would be science fiction writers, who must use science in their writing.)

Here are some ways that even an author of magical fantasy, a writer who disdains all things scientific, can benefit from applying the Arte/Scienza principle:

  • Use mind-maps to aid in the writing process. These combine the logical orderliness of outlines with the free-form, colorful, image-laden right-brain preferences. Mind-maps can help you solve plotting problems, create characters, even plan book promotions.
  • Apply the experimental method to the development of your craft. The heart of science is the experimental method, used to expand the boundaries of human knowledge. You’re trying to become a better writer, so experiment!
  • Add a scientifically minded character to your story, even if he or she is the antagonist, a person of pure evil. Pour all your negative feelings about science into that character. You may just find, as you develop this antagonist, that he or she becomes one of your more engaging and interesting creations.
  • Embrace the overlap between art and science. If art searches for beauty, and science seeks truth, are those really that different? In the end, you’d like your book to say something new about the human condition, to expand reader’s knowledge about the theme you’re exploring. While working your art, haven’t you just committed an act of science?

Listen to your inner artist and your inner scientist. The more you do, the more you’ll find them getting along well together, and your writing might improve, too. So far, it’s working for—

Poseidon’s Scribe

September 27, 2015Permalink