Free-writing is a creative
exercise writers invented to “free their minds” once they realised that the 60s
effectively got them nowhere. It involves frantically spewing words on to a
page without stopping or self-censorship, and seeing what unique ideas manifest
themselves. I’m about to invite you to glimpse into my unconscious mind, as I
time myself for 10 minutes to try and formulate some sort of cohesive argument
as to why free writing isn’t a complete waste of time. After my time is up, I’ll
correct any spelling or grammatical errors so you don’t need to hire a
cryptographer to decipher it...
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Right, so, free writing. Let’s talk about you. Well,
obviously first thing I should mention is that I can’t type as fast as I can
think because that would be ridiculous and there would be like hundreds of
documentaries about me and I wouldn’t really have to worry about writing
articles like these. Anyway, I didn’t really think of any actual points coming
into this argument so I’m sort of making it up as I go without stopping, which
is incredibly hard. Still, this is the sort of spontaneity that you could say
films and stories lack these days, as everything is planned to death before any
kind of script is even started. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but being so
over-prepared that your story basically becomes a checklist that you’re ticking
off maybe just makes things a little too formulaic. Why are people afraid of
stories becoming looser with their execution? Like if, say, a dragon showed up
in the middle of Downtown Abbey. It’s
set in the olden days so I’m surprised one hasn’t showed up yet to be honest.
Maybe that was a bad example / joke, but you get my point, right? People can
see twists coming a mile off these days because we’re all so used to the
formulas, so just throwing in a complete curveball – something that would come
of free-writing – would really make your piece stand out. The critics would
probably call your alien invasion of Eastenders
laughable, but it’d certainly get people talking about your work, etc. Anyway,
I think I’ve made that point. Let me try and think of another. Oh man, I’m
definitely stalling right now. How about a magnetised donkey with shotguns for
a mouth? There we go. That was a curveball, I think. No idea what provoked that
one. Damn, I thought I’d have more to say. Maybe I’ll talk a bit more about why
planning sucks. Well, I suppose movies that have been planned for years,
designed around the idea of intelligently discussing a topic, even if
indirectly, tend to come under closer narrative scrutiny, like Inception. I know I mentioned Inception in my previous post, but think
about it – there have been more plot holes found with Inception, a complex blockbuster that tackles dreams in a
convoluted but entertaining way, than, say, a really simple movie, like Shrek or something. I dunno if there
have been plot holes found in Shrek,
in fact, I can imagine there are a bunch, but when everything is generally simpler,
people tend not to focus on the narrative so much, and holy crap, I only have
one minute left. Right, so, to summarise. Gosh, what were my points again?
Planning over-complicates and the spontaneity of free-writing allows for some
fun narrative curveballs, but I suppose, in hindsight, this article may have
proven that planning does have it merits, in that little of this made sense. If
we can take one thing away from it, it’s that magnetised donkeys with shotguns
for mouths are quite a cool idea.
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.
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