Writers want their brains to be like Google – scouring
endless realms of compiled data and catalogues of human experience to provide
this weird thing called “inspiration” as and when it is needed. Truth is, your
brain is more like Bing – misdirected, sparse and, all in all, a little
disappointing. After all, what is “inspiration”, if not the cranberry juice
upon which our creative sugar rushes are fuelled? Writers often cite music,
dreams, photographs, personal experience, yadda yadda, as the birthing pools of
their ideas, but the truth, would you believe, is exponentially more icky.
1) During Intimacy
Let’s face up to the truth here – who hasn’t ever thought,
during times of sexiness with a partner of equivalent sexiness, “Man, this
right here is like some sort of sexy movie or something! Like The Notebook or
Drive or Star Wars. Not the prequels though. Not that this is light
incest. That would make me Han Solo. The one who DEFINITELY shot
first. Hope I don’t shoot first-“...? I digress. Maybe just pay attention to
that first sentence.
My point is, couples often find themselves in different
romantic contexts over the course of their relationship, and some of these
haven’t found their way on to the silver screen yet. Sorting out dirty socks in
the steamy laundry room, offering up the last succulent wing from a KFC bargain
bucket, being chased by a feral possum across the Torquay coast line... Writers
need only look at these nuggets of romantic gold, and stories practically write
themselves around them (I’ve already called dibs on the possum).
2) Watching Other Movies
This may seem like a no-brainer in terms of citing
inspiration, but let us take a moment to dissect why referencing other movies
may actually be detrimental to your magnum opus. Say you get hit by a hot
money-making idea whilst watching a film – for instance, “imagine if they added
zombies to this version of Pride and Prejudice" (totally a thing
that’s happening). Ultimately it means that you’re not really paying attention to the movie you’re watching, which perhaps
suggests that it isn’t that good to begin with (sorry Austen), and arbitrarily
hybridising with a polarising concept isn’t exactly creating anything new or original.
Maybe inspiration hits you much long after you’ve watched
the movie, like a troublesome Jager hangover. Still, telling people that your
new Heist movie is inspired by Heat and Point Break, just means that it’s, well,
a Heist movie. Telling people your new Heist movie is inspired by The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Ghandi just means that’s it’s... I don’t
even know. I’m just as guilty of this, having referenced movies THAT I HAVEN’T
EVEN SEEN BEFORE, which essentially is the same as saying “title’s good and
people seemed to like it – let’s make some fat stacks”. We’re all culpable,
without facing the reality of what we’re actually saying. So, rather than suggesting
writers don’t admit to this, I’m 100% advocating that they shouldn’t.
3) During Excretion
Told you things would get icky. Look, as a species we’ve set
ourselves certain standards of living, that, other than at music festivals and
in gypsy campsites, we adhere to. Our default reaction to any waste that falls
out of our bodies is either indignant disgust or childish amusement. It stands
to reason that many of us don’t want to spend our time on the old bog dwelling
on what we’re actually doing, as it would either gross us out or make us laugh
maniacally in our cubicle like we’ve discovered a simple recipe for plutonium.
So, as a coping mechanism, we let our minds wander. This is
a unique, Zen-like state fuelled by deeming your current context as
unacceptable - a powerful motivator for escapism that can’t be as easily
orchestrated by free-writing or mind-altering drug consumption. You’re entombed
in a cell of your own making, where you don’t need to feel the eyes of the
outside world judging you, because, in your heart, you know that they all have
to do the same thing at some point. There is no equalling the liberation felt
when you discard your waste into the wild, only to have it replaced by a career
defining idea. An idea that you’ll probably tell people you had while watching Taggart.
4) When You Simply
Don’t Care About Anything That’s Happening Around You
Notice how this section isn’t called “Boredom”. Boredom is a
toxic concept. People who get bored are fundamentally boring people who try and
involve you in their boredom, like some sort of reverse peer pressure. What I’m
talking about is just not being in the moment. Like when you’re on holiday, and
your family keep saying “look at that amazing view from the top of this hill we
spent two days climbing!” and you’re just like “meh”. Not because you’re bored
though. It’s because you’re picturing an amazing battle between Giants and Gods
happening in the valley below you, as is your way.
The reason why writers don’t tell people that they get their
ideas this way is because it isn’t exciting. Writers are storytellers, and
sometimes explaining how you came to find your idea can be more exciting than
the idea itself. People don’t want to know about the time you were dribbling
fromage frais down your dressing gown in front of Loose Women, wondering if there was any meaning to it all, before
you came up with the next Inception. £25
says that’s what Nolan did. He might not admit it, but his eyes tell a
different story...
James Cottle, after
studying Scriptwriting for 4 years, is now an embittered real life freelance
writer, and seeks to unlearn everything he knows. But he needs your help...
Follow him on Twitter @Jxmxsc and share this blog to help spread his anarchic
plight for reform amongst the writing masses.
Man, these are spot on. So true!
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