Tuesday, November 25, 2003

I Am Not Actually a Physicist

Since I am a physicist, I have formulated a thermodynamic postulate. Like most postulates, it merely serves to define some phenomenon that already exists and is generally accepted without proof. Well, "generally accepted" may be a stretch, since I just formulated it. I'm certainly not the first person to think about this phenomenon; I may, however, be the first to attempt to define it within the confines of a blog while sitting on the couch in my pajamas as my leftover pasta from last week cools in the microwave.

I call this a thermodynamic postulate since it refers to the movement of energy within a system. However, I refer to creative energy, which I postulate here is not finitely quantifiable like heat energy, but quantifiable on a relative scale. You've felt the loss or the replenishment of creative energy.

The Theory of Conservation of Creative Energy (TCCE) (pronounced 'tacky', I guess)

Creative energy (CE) is not like physical energy, which either exists as matter or as heat. CE is immaterial, so it can grow and diminish bounded only by the constraints of its vessel. It can be slow to start moving, but then is self-perpetuating, like Donkey Kong from Mario Kart.

However -- TCCE states that a particular manifestation of CE, in other words a specific Idea, is in nature like a glob of Silly Putty. It can be stretched slowly, pulled and snapped in half, or moved from one place to another. The fundamental statement of TCCE is that an Idea is portable.

We are not speaking here of a vague Idea like "Pirates are cool." We are speaking of a specific manifestation - like "Two pirates get stuck in a bank vault, and one of them is claustrophobic, so the other one has to put out his partner's eyes so he can't see that he's in an enclosed space." Ideas do not always have to be this dumb.

Now, if I had that Idea, it would reside somewhere - in my mind. It would stay there until one of two things happened: either (a) I took it from my mind and put it somewhere else, say on paper; or (b) I would eventually forget it. Thus, a Catch-22 begins to take shape. We've heard of the practice of carrying a notebook around with you, to write down ideas before you forget them. A good plan, generally speaking. But what that practice does is it takes the ideas from your mind and puts them into the notebook. Follow me here ... and once the ideas are in your notebook, you tend to forget about them. Because they're not in your mind anymore.

Probably this is the subconscious mind thinking "Well, those ideas are secure now. It's okay to forget them." But the net result is that unless you look at your notebook a lot, those ideas are going to be gone anyway.

Writing things down is a great way, for me at least, to stimulate the creative process. If I have half a concept, the physical act of writing helps to get my mind working and the other half will usually appear for the first time as I write it. But then it's there, on the page, and not in my mind anymore. I can read it off the page, of course, but it's sort of like plucking gum off the bedpost in the morning (and why in the world would anyone do that? Resume chewing yesterday's gum? Is gum that expensive? It's got no flavor left. Hell, I can't chew gum for five minutes without getting strangely and fiercely frustrated with it and wanting something to bite down on).

Anyway, TCCE basically states that particular Ideas will move from one place to another, say the mind to the paper, and in doing so will somewhat vacate the space they left. This is one reason why I don't like doing outlines - because after I make the outline, the Idea is no longer burning a hole in my skull trying to get out. That's why you want to tell someone a great Idea you just had - because it's banging on the inside of your skull, overflowing out your ears - and if you give into that, and let some of it out, and tell someone, then there's a little bit left inside.

Revisions work the same way. The Idea's there, on the paper. You're trying to stuff it back into your mind to put it through another cycle and spit it out again. That's why, for me anyway, revisions are easiest if they're one of two types: (a) Minor, syntactical revisions. Clearing out extraneous verbiage, shuffling things for pacing, cleaning up dialogue, that sort of thing. (b) Wholesale revisions - changing the lead character's sex, setting the story in the Renaissance, making the villain a meter maid instead of a cockfight bookie. Because then, it's a whole new Idea.

TCCE means that in general, unless I'm trying to work out a problem or map out something that's too big to keep straight, I don't like to write small things down. If they stay inside my head, then I keep remembering them - something I'll hear will remind me, or whatever. Recently I happened across a bunch of notes I made for a script still in progress. I'd forgotten all about several great ideas I had. Because I wrote them down.

That's why my last post, for example, was so short. Because all my great ideas were on the page that disappeared into the ether, and only their Silly Putty pink remnants remained.

Many times those Ideas will beget progeny on their own, in the subconscious mind. That's part of the creative process - work, simmer, work, simmer. And not writing down - or telling people - or doing anything to minimize the fiery Idea in your mind is all the more incentive to work instead of loaf - because you know that, eventually, you will forget. So sit the ass down and do it before it's too late!

Yes, you. Not tomorrow. Today!

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In the interests of full disclosure, I have a bunch of Ideas slowly fading away in my mind. I need to work on them. But I wrote this instead. Procrastination will be another day's topic. When I get around to it.