Creativity

Shock The Creator

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

There are two areas of practice where I say, “if something doesn’t shock you, you’re not doing it right.”  One is spiritual practice, and the other is worldbuilding.  Today, I’ll focus on the latter, if only to save you from me discussing psychology and minutae of Taoist breathing exercises.

Every author brings themselves to their worldbuilding because there’s no one else to bring.  Even if authors think they’re expanding on ideas created by someone else (such as the way Richard Florida influenced me), that’s not true.  Writing about someone else’s ideas means you’re writing about your idea of their idea.  The author (you) is inseparable from worldbuilding.

The problem with bringing ourselves into worldbuilding is we may quash our imaginations.  We come with our preconceptions about people, politics, history, and our inspirations.  When our creativity takes us “off script,” it’s too easy to force our way back onto the expected path.

I think we do this because when you worldbuild, you ask questions – I should know, I write worldbuilding books that are just questions.  The problem with asking questions is you’re going to get answers, and you won’t always like them.  Worldbuilding means thinking about big issues that can lead to uncomfortable conclusions about ourselves, our creations, and the real world.

I’d say when that happens, good because worldbuilding should shock you.  When thinking about politics, gods, science, or whatever your mind will go places.  You should be surprised by some of your conclusions because you’re thinking very big picture – in a way the biggest picture.  That shock is a sign you’ve challenged yourself, which might be good.

I’m not saying every disturbing thing that comes to mind is a good idea in your worldbuilding.  Not everything shocking is true, despite what many Internet Reply People think.  But those ideas came from inside of you while you work on a very intimate process – something is going on there you want to explore.  The fact it surprised you may well mean there was real inspiration there.

For myself, I can point right at my Avenoth novels, which are very political in their own way.  This post-post-apocalyptic fantasy series contains some of my politics and feelings about society.  It would take a lot to detail here, but suffice to say the core idea is “any survivable society is scaled, interconnected, and has people consciously keeping it running.”

But there was an unpleasant dark side that shocked me – and that I kept.  This society survived a massive world war that killed three-quarters of the population.  It is a society that also had “warrior lodges” and “monster hunters” that were designed to parody fantasy tropes.  Finally, the great devastating war ended with a massive, murderous military action committed by a loose alliance that was tired of fifty years of death.

This peaceful society came out of bloody history and built peace.  But it had to cope with violence.

Thus violence was recognized and ritualized.  Warrior Lodges became mixtures of mercenaries and sports teams (it’s easy to arrest someone when you’re on a trading card).  Some professions were trained and allowed to use violence and weapons if needed, such as the relic-hunting pair of Marigold and Scintilla.  Government agencies subsumed monster hunting orders, embodied by the warhorse character Briar.  It was a society that didn’t avoid violence so much as channel it.

I found this disturbing at first because my creation normalized violence.  Watching people beat each other up with fancy weapons to place bets?  Weird orders that recruited traumatized people into their ranks is considered normal?  Disturbing, yet these elements rang true, and I kept them – and probably learned more about myself and societies.

These elements were not just good worldbuilding, they added to the story.  Marigold and Scintilla were disgusted with the old orders because someone had tried to recruit them.  Students of the pair sported badges on their robes denoting their favorite Warrior Lodges.  Complex regulations about weapon use came to the fore so Scintilla and Briar could ignore them.

I was shocked.  My worldbuilding was better for it.

So next time you’re busy creating a new world, watch for those moments you surprise yourself unpleasantly.  A bolt from the blue may have struck you, and once you stop reeling, odds are you’ve found something worth keeping.

Steven Savage

Let Someone Else Take a Look

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

There’s a twilight zone of ideas, somewhere between “am doing now” and “random things I probably won’t do.”  You know those books, art pieces, or cosplays that you kinda want to do but not right now?  I’m sure you do, and they’re frustrating as you want to do some but can’t do all.

I’d suggest that’s because someone else needs to look at them.  That someone else is you.

Let me explain.

I keep such ideas in what I call “The Incubator.”  It’s a ranked list of things I know I’d like to do and want to do, but I’m not going to take action on immediately.  I look at it now and then, usually when I add new ideas to it.  Know what I find?

Some ideas really are good.  Others . . . I’ve lost interest in, or see they’re not worth it.  So the Incubator gets updated, and life goes on.  There’s a lot of clarity looking at my ideas months or even a year later because who I am is different.

Every time I glance at the Incubator, I’m bringing new wisdom, insights, and concerns.  I see the ideas of “Past Steve” in a different, hopefully, more informed light.  I trust “New Steve’s” opinion more than the last me.

So next time you’ve got a whole lot of possible projects?  Write them down, and take a look later.  It will be a different person taking a look at them.  That future you will bring more clarity, even if that clarity is “that was a bad idea, what was I thinking?”

Give yourself some time to become the someone else you need to evaluate your supposedly bright ideas.  They may shine even brighter in the future.

Steven Savage

The Good and the Real

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

I adore a local family burrito place, and my love of their food provides a good lesson in media. Trust me here as I discuss the Good and the Real.

The first time I went there, I had a vegetable burrito. The burrito’s home-cooked taste was so intimate I, a cook, could taste the personal touch. It used pre-cut frozen vegetables, so I wouldn’t say it was that Good, because fresh vegetables would have added something. Yet I adored it because the home-cooked taste connected me to the cook there was a passionately Real experience eating it.

I connected to the cook just eating that burrito.

Later I tried the restaurant’s breakfast burrito, and it was a glorious taste experience I called ” an Egg McMuffin with self-esteem.”  It was the perfect balance of fresh eggs, the right sausage, beans, and cheese. This burrito had the homemade Real taste of the vegetable burrito and a choice of ingredients that made it just plain Good.

Sorry to make you hungry, but I found this a great metaphor for how we understand creative works.

Some works are Good. There is an unmistakable quality of work there, from well-shot scenes to brutally simple prose. There is craftsmanship there.

Some works are Real. There’s something that connects with you. It may trigger an emotion, it may help you relate to the creator. It’s not verisimilitude, it’s a sense of touching something connected and meaningful.

Not every media that is Good feels Real – and not everything that feels Real is Good. This division may explain why we have trouble debating quality works.

Some works that are Good don’t have the depth, the personal connection that makes something Real. They are well-polished, well done, and enjoyable, but they may not focus on deep connections. In my current anime viewing, I’d cite the supervillain office comedy Miss Kuroitsu from the Monster Development Department, which focuses on its target-rich environment of superhero tropes. “Miss Kuroitsu” focuses on mockery and doesn’t really want or need to focus on depth.

On the other hand, works can be Real, connected, but you may not call them “Good.”  The above burrito is an example. Sogo Ishii, the brilliant filmmaker, brings a punkishly edgy and passionate reality to all his works. Some of his films may not be “good” in the sense of craft or polished because he wants to pour passion onto the screen (Crash City being an example)

Sometimes you want to be Good. Sometimes you want to be Real. Sometimes you’re fortunate and get both.

The Good and the Real works have quality, polish, and deep personal connection. When you read Lord of the Rings, you don’t just have a fantastic adventure, Tolkein’s love of language drips off the page. When you watch Steven Universe, you have both well-crafted rapid storytelling and experience the passion of the series creatures. These are the works that echo throughout time.

The Good and the Real may not be obvious. I would put the Fast and the Furious series in both the Good and the Real. The films are Real in that everyone knows the goal is to be as crazy as possible, and we’re all along for the ride. But they are Good in that they pull off the increasingly wild ideas. When you see a Fast and the Furious movie, it’s both being in on the fun and marveling at how they pulled it off.

For you, is your goal to make a work that’s both Good and Real?   Or would you be best served by focusing on one over the other? What is it you want to do?

In fact, let me challenge you. Ask if your current work is trying to be Good, Real, or Both – and why might you want to change focus?

(Also, if you’re near me, I’ll tell you which restaurant to get those burritos at.)

Steven Savage