Organized chaos – that’s what I used to call my method of cleaning as a kid. I knew where everything was. You just had to step over a few piles to get to it.
Creative writing, or any creative process really, tends to feel the same way. Getting past the beginning hurdle feels triumphant, until the next block approaches swiftly and without warning.
‘Yeah, okay, you’ve got your beginning. But what are you going to do with it?’ your inner critic asks, rude as ever.
You’ve got a plan…had a plan…somewhere…
It’s a constant cycle of organizing chaos, wrangling your thoughts together despite having very little direction yourself.
All you can do is trust that you’ll find your voice.
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How To Move Past The Beginning
I hadn’t written a story in nearly 10 years. Now that I had found my beginning, I had approximately one quarter of a page worth of words. They kind of made sense.
Beginnings are not a magical cure-all. I’d dare say they’re the white rabbit, leading us down a tunnel and only yelling about how they’re late. So I did what I always do in this situation. I did anything else, and then I got distracted halfway through vacuuming my living room, decided to dig up a folder of old stories, and read.
I didn’t write for the next three days.
Within this folder was an old journal. I hadn’t opened it in at least five years, but I knew what was inside. Flux, one of the first short stories I wrote while at Brandeis.
I flipped through the pages, remembering the song that had brought the first scene to me. Behind those pages was a stack of revisions and other stories I had written in college. It’s a very well traveled stack of paper, one that I refuse to dismiss because of the treasure it holds.
As I read each page, I recognized the sound of my voice. And then, I realized that I had lost it. I no longer had the ability to create with ease like I used to. Nothing that I was doing sounded anything like this. So I stopped writing. While revisiting old stories can jumpstart your beginnings, they can also cut through the rest of your path if you’re not careful.
When you reach this point of chaos, I’ve found that it’s much easier to step away and let your mind wander on its own while you do other things. Sometimes, the more you let your mind wander the quicker it finds its path – although this shouldn’t be abused as a solution every time.
In the days after revisiting this old story that I had loved creating, I also remembered the same struggle I’d had with it: I had no plot. And still, after all this time, I felt strangled by the lack of drive. Within Flux stood two great characters, treading water. Waiting.
It wasn’t until I began to think about how I could explain the process of organizing your creative thoughts that I realized exactly what I was missing. I had been looking at the finale of the story the whole time, focusing on the long-term outcome rather than the current situation. I forgot to enact conflict, despite having set up for it.
In that moment I realized that all I needed to write about was a moment. And suddenly my plot appeared.
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Good Art Rarely Comes With Ease
This was something I thought I knew, but had clearly forgotten. Flux wasn’t always so smooth. Looking back at my professor’s notes, I can laugh at how right they are and how stubborn yet willing to learn I am. But in that final revision is the culmination of countless edits – it’s a bar that I feel like I know, a character I’ve met before, the type of banter that makes me wish these friends were real in my world, and now I wanted to know what came next.
I had found the plot I was missing, but it didn’t take long for Ego to deflate it. You see, the trouble with writing what you know is that it’s easy to go too far. A memory sparks inspiration and before I began to grasp what it could be for this story, it turned into what it was. I was reiterating something that really happened, only with different names.
One of the most interesting lessons I learned in college was that reading about real life is the least interesting thing. If you’re not careful, writing what you know can lead to underdevelopment. You’re so close to the memory that you fail to let the story advance because that’s not what happened.
As a result – ironically – the story doesn’t feel realistic.
When I’m stuck here, I write down questions. I return to asking what if. I list out possible outcomes. And as I do this, usually a new piece of plot will begin to form. I might use it, I might not. But it gets me writing and thinking and exploring new directions. If you’re more hands on, you might enjoy the process of writing your list on notecards so that you can move them around and see the impact rather than just imagine.
Above all else, remember to enjoy the process even when it seems agonizingly stubborn.
Related Post: Creative Burnout – What To Do When You’ve Run Out Of Ideas
Simply Write
I think perhaps the reason that stories are so difficult to write is because they’re portals. Stories are a movie you get to live because rather than watching a screen you’re experiencing a lifetime as it develops within your own imagination. As writers, we have to create this magic sans grimoire. The rules are more like guidelines and those guidelines are actually suggestions for you to follow should you see fit. We don’t really know where our ideas come from. They just appear, and intrigue.
When you’re still finding the story and beginning to hear its voice, the best thing you can do is simply write. Get every bad sentence out of your pen so that the good can come forth and turn into great.
SAMANTHA PATERNOSTER
Writing is much bigger than a career. It’s more interesting than a hobby. It’s the spark to an eternal curiosity that has led me to learn unexpected skills, treasure knowledge passed down through generations, and create a space for voices that need to speak.
I earned my B.A. in Creative Writing from Brandeis University, with a focus on long and short fiction. I have nearly a decade of experience as a copywriter and editor. But I’ve also worked as an Email Analyst and QA Analyst at Yale University, helping to launch their redesigned Giving page circa 2014.
Most recently, I’ve started my own business – Creatively You. Built for my clients, it is founded on one simple act: listening. By listening to my clients’ dreams and needs, I am able to help them develop their brands through cohesive web design and content that tells their stories.
I don’t believe in linear paths. I do believe in the magic that embracing the unknown can bring.
