On Writing : Let's Talk About The Whether by Daniel Stuelpnagel

Forget for a moment about superstring theory, quantum chromodynamics and the "many-worlds" scenario; as authors we are the expert scientists of "what-if?" We know all that stuff in our bones.

Whether or not? How and why?

We seek and then accept the power and authority to move our characters' lives forward and then lurch right back and tell them "No" ... completely change the story line ... must be disconcerting if you're fictional but hopefully we get them eventually to a place where they can live in peace ... when the killing's done and the molten glass has cooled back to room temperature.

But in the crucible, everything is in potential quantum flux, we've got open access to all the worlds and timelines, and each time we narrow things down (as in life but much faster!), we cut off certain theoretical possibilities (and yet can restore them on a whim!).

I love Act I of course, the stack of inspiration and "hey so this protag is a level-headed, left-wing unicyclist with a penchant for exotic seafood buffets whose life is about to be turned upside-down!"

Act II we are out in the desert, striving to build more than just an episodic pile of sequences, but sometimes even that's a valid tactic that can serve a foundational purpose, only "we" can decide how much to rely on logic or intuition.

Finally Act III is our chance to roll out the confluence of all the madness, snip off the loose threads around the edges and show our world-view du jour through the events just witnessed, ride off into the sunset, fantasize about the sequel.

If only it was that easy.

The craft is seemingly a practice of destruction, charting out possible courses across the ocean and then burning the maps. Sailing on and reassuring the crew while we the captain tear our hair out worrying about having built a leaky vessel.

(Last year I read 18 of 20+ books from Patrick O'Brian's "Master And Commander" series, so I'll probably be using these nautical metaphors for quite a while!).

Because if I and my characters are too "comfortable," I'm probably just replicating the subconscious memory of Mission Impossible 5, 6, 3 or whichever. It's too easy to do, just thinking I've got a bright idea and then realizing I pulled it out of the mental recycle bin.

And yet I often do not have the tenacity or patience to make a dozen different possible story lines, craft a scene fifteen or twenty times, the narrowing of the path is terrifying because I realize I've already cut off so many possibilities that in my mind that unicyclist is already on their way to the buffet.

Which is why it's so valuable and essential for me to complete the project, set it aside and then start a new one with fresh empty mind and real possibilities, rather than grinding and chopping and polishing the one that is really already done.

A new script, book idea or well-made play on the page, whether it's storyboards, graphic novel, vision board, character profiles or outline, or even blasting out chunks onto a blank screen, that's where the action is and that's my work, to make it new.

Quantity begets quality, as tough as it can be to let things sit and leave them alone and move on,

it's a great life lesson built into our craft I think, attachment and loss, letting go, beginner's mind, it will make me a better writer, and has the potential to help me become a better person of character.