Some time ago I posted about dry spells in writing. I would like to take you, if I may, into another metaphor for the things that can happen to a writer that don’t really fall into the category of ‘writer’s block’. A writer or other artist may have no shortage of work or ideas, but when the time comes to sit down and produce, nothing happens. The ideas are in the brainpan, jumping around and screaming to get out, but the gates just won’t open.

This is the sort of thing that happens when you run out of steam.

In the aftermath of a project’s completion, the end of a workweek or the conclusion of some sort of trip or activity, there can be a dearth of energy that works counter to any plans or ideas one might have. “After I finish this project/get home from work Friday/go see so-and-so, I’ll be sure to sit down and bang out a thousand words!” It’s an optimistic statement, filling the endpoint of the timeline with hope and promise. Then, when you reach the end of that timeline and clear your decks for action… nothing happens. The engine grinds to a halt. Something has gone wrong, somewhere, and despite one’s deep desire to move forward, there’s no motion whatsoever.

So what happens next?

Rekindle the Fires: Go Back To Your Sources

A lot of artists take notes or make sketches. Rarely does a work spring fully-formed from the mind of the creator, shining with goddess-like beauty and clad in armor that is both practical and beautifully revealing. More often than not they need to be stitched together and zapped into life by some Frankensteinian alchemical process. This means you had raw material to work with before you began refining it into a coherent, singular idea.

If that idea is having trouble taking shape, go back to your source. Look over your notes, and make revisions if you want. Do more sketches. Jot down peripheral ideas. Something you thought of in passing during the early stages of the project might blossom into the sort of idea that gets your engine running again. That minor character you wanted to write out of your story, or a color that you didn’t think would work in the final product? Take those in a new direction.

Fix The Pipes: Edit Existing Constructs

If you’ve run out of steam partway through a project, you’ve already established some things with which you’re relatively pleased. But can they be better? Can you improve upon what you’ve already done to make what you’re going to do possible? Go back to the beginning and critically observe the work.

In addition to helping put you back on track, you might catch something you otherwise might have missed. You might get a new idea that channels through to the unfinished portions, again taking the work in a new and interesting direction. And you might just shore up a part of the work that was a bit wobbly. Either way, it’s a better use of your time than staring at the work and drumming your fingers on the desk waiting for that nubile junior goddess to chisel her way out of your skull.

Change The Water: Dabble In Other Projects

This might be the procrastinator in me talking, but I think it’s a bit rare for an artist to only have a single item on their plate. I have a few irons in the fire and I suspect some of the people I consider artists are in a similar situation. So, if you’re finding yourself in a logjam with one project and there’s no pending deadline, work on something else. Brew up more creative energy that can then be redirected to the ‘problem child’.

It could be something as simple as character notes for another work or even a game, a new story idea that you begin to develop, fresh sketches of something you’ve seen in your mind’s eye, or one of those pedantic “advice”-filled blog posts that ramble on for a bit before coming to a final focal point.

The bottom line is, you’re not chained to any one work. Art is about creative freedom, by and large. You should exercise your right to think and create without a net, try something new and maybe build up enough momentum to plow through the difficulty you’re experiencing.

Or maybe you’ll get lucky and that goddess will burst from your cranium to end up in your lap.

Wait, am I the only one who thinks that wouldn’t be a bad thing? Sure, your head will hurt like hell while she’s getting out, but once she is, you have a goddess in your lap.

Think about it.

“It’s a work of fiction. It’s a metaphor.”

This is, apparently, what George Lucas says to people who criticize his work. When they bring up Jar Jar Binks, nuking the fridge or the complete dehumanization of Star Wars, he tells them something along those lines. And somewhere between his lips and my ears, the words change to have the following meaning:

“I don’t care what you think. It’s my story and I can tell it any way I want, and people like you will pay for it, so you’re the dumbass here, not me.”

This seems to be almost common among storytellers & directors these days. Look no further than the likes of Michael Bay and Uwe Boll. There are people out there getting paid embarassing amounts of money to tell bad stories who don’t care about the people in those stories or their intended audience. This sort of ties back into my musings on what a story should be about, but it occured to me that a major problem with a lot of the productions out there is that the creators are concerned about their creation, and not the audience.

Chuck (not Magic Talking Beardman Chuck, but sfdebris Chuck) said once that “the worst feeling when doing comedy is when you tell a joke and nobody laughs.” Stand-up comedy can keep a performer honest because you get feedback, be it good or bad, right away. The same goes for music, especially when a band is first starting out. If you think you’re awesome and you get up to play only to find beer bottles getting thrown at your head, and it happens more than once, something is probably wrong on your side of the stage. This has been true for quite a long time, back when the folks in the cheap seats in a theater would toss raw or rotten veggies at somebody they didn’t like up on stage.

Stand-up comedians, musicians and stage actors are all entertainers. When you tell a story, be it in a verbal, written or audio/visual format, you are entertaining. And if that presentation is being put together to be seen by somebody other than yourself, you are intending to entertain an audience.

It makes sense, at least to me, that you should care about that audience.

It is illogical to assume that you are good at what you do if you get no feedback. In order to get that feedback, you need to show your work to others. The other people who witness you work are your audience. And you can’t just stop at family & close friends, either. That’s the problem with George Lucas from what I’ve seen, because during the production of the Star Wars prequels he was surrounded by people who are either his friends or were told by his friends not to challenge him.

People you haven’t met need to see your work, and tell you what they think. How else are you going to improve, and more to the point, know you’re improving? If you’re only going to show your product to someone who’s going to tell you it’s great no matter how much it might suck, you might as well show it to your dog. I’d say ‘show it to your cat,’ as I’m a cat owner at this point, but your cat will treat you with disdain despite the quality of your product and wonder when you’re going to feed them again.

I feel like I’m beating a dead horse, here, but I hope I’m being understood in how important I consider it for thought to go into your work, and to try and make it about something other that sex and violence. When you show it to others, and they don’t like it, don’t just dismiss them out of hand. Ask them why. Find the weaknesses in the work, and make them better. Not only will you be glad you did, your audience will too.