I realized that the blog from yesterday could sound somewhat misleading. No, I’m not one of those people who uses 3×5 cards, graphs, charts, and GMC to block out a story. No such thing, I am one of those fly-by-the-seat-of-the-pants unconcious writers. So why do I have an outline/synopsis/proposal done? Here’s how I got to where I am, writing this novella:
First, I got the email with the list of Ellora’s Cave 2006 anthology themes and proposal deadline/requirements. I said to Creative Brain, “This sounds like fun, what do you think? Do you want to do this? Do you like any of the themes?” I tried to do a little brainstorming, but with no result. I moved on to other things.
Then ideas began to come forward. First is the idea that won’t work for an anthology because it’s part of a series, but is nevertheless a kick-butt story and I’m more than happy to write another story using my Bigfoot/tabloid setting. This is the idea that came from the fusion of Village People and the list of themes. (Do not ask how Bigfoot, tabloids, the Village People and a theme from E.C. form a story. I have no idea. Creative Brain puts these things together.)
Next came an idea that’s fascinating, but not fully formed. I wrote it down in hopes that the rest of it will come along some day. Not rounded out enough to make up a proposal, even a one-pager. And it’s a big idea, which probably won’t fit into a novella when it’s rounded out.
And then at last, when I was thinking, “OK, Creative Brain has lots of ideas but isn’t floating one for the anthologies so maybe my silent partner doesn’t want to do an anthology. That’s okay,” up comes The One. (The actual title is not The One, the caps are to indicate The One Idea For The Anthology.)
At which point, as if taking dictation from the spirit world, I wrote the title, the proposal, the synopsis, the outline, and wrote the opening scene and the first turning point scene. (Not in that order. Creative Brain is non-linear.)
It isn’t as spooky as that sounds. Creative Brain had been working on it the entire time and then spit it out fully formed, expecting me to catch it. It only seems spooky because most of what goes on in our brains is unconcious, but it’s there and it’s useful and it is entirely possible to have a happy, productive working partnership with the great unconcious Creative Brain.
It’s mainly a matter of talking as well as listening; Creative Brain takes requests, but the conscious partner has to be willing to listen to the answers and to catch them when they come. Respect the unconcious brain, treat it like the valuable partner that it is, take it seriously, and all will be well. Oh, yes, and don’t feed it garbage. By which I mean don’t spend your time telling yourself how lousy a writer you are, how so and so is better, how you can’t plot your way out of a paper bag, because the unconcious brain doesn’t know the difference between what is real and what is imagined. If you imagine yourself a failure, Creative Brain takes this as an order and makes it a reality, unconciously sabotaging any sign of success.
Creative Brain is always at work for all of us, so it’s good to say things like, “I am a success, I am a terrific person, I am creative and prolific” and let Creative Brain find ways and opportunities to make it so. For years I’ve been saying, “I am a best-selling author.” I felt damn stupid saying this when all my stories were getting rejected, but I have now seen this become reality, on two different best-seller lists.
So there it is, how I partnered with my Creative Brain to get to the point where my proposal’s complete and submitted well within the time limit and the story is flowing out. Now I’ve got to go write some more story or Creative Brain will think I’m not paying attention.
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