Hugh MacLeod is a cartoonist whom I admire greatly.
He doesn’t suffer fools, though suffers for his art.
Today in his blog he paraphrased Linds Redding, an Auckland creative who recently died of cancer. Linds’ blog was enlightening, funny and honest. Although he admitted he enjoyed parts of his advertising career – and the people – ultimately Linds felt he worked in an industry which took his best years, not to mention ideas. And in the end he had nothing to show for it.
I hope Linds’ family are doing as well as can be expected. I never met him but he seemed a good, decent guy.
For what it’s worth, here’s what I took from his take on life:
If you’re a creative – be it art, music, writing, whatever – choose where to throw your energy. You only have a certain amount of it – and we ain’t here forever.
It was 2003 and I set off on a journey which would become the book ‘In Search of Swingers.’ The point? To play golf with whoever happened to feature on the front page of the newspaper where ever I happened to be staying.
So who did I meet?
Michael Georgatos, who was on the front page of the NY Post because he found a four-foot-long alligator while walking his dog in Central Park. Bubbles and Sweet Thang, two clowns getting married in Richmond, Virginia. I met Don Wardlow, a blind baseball commentator; an ex-CIA agent who became a pro on the senior golf circuit and played with Chi Chi Rodriguez; a Stevie Wonder impersonator in Las Vegas; a 91-year-old beach queen from Tybee Island, Georgia; and Mary and Otis Barnes, stamp collectors from Port Arthur, Texas. (Yip, slow news week when stamps make the news.)
If you click on NEWS you’ll see photos of these brilliantly kind nutters who let me into their homes. I started the trip in New York City, headed south through Virginia, North and South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, New Orleans, Arizona, Las Vegas and L.A.
I still keep in touch with Otis and his family, though sadly a few years ago he lost his life-long soul mate, Mary. I will never forget being at the Hotel 6 in Port Arthur and seeing Otis on the front page of the paper. I called him out of the blue and asked if he would fancy a game of golf. As was the case with most of my ‘victims,’ he declined, but did offer me dinner. ‘I’ll be in a brown pick up truck; sure hope you like dogs.’ Half an hour later I was with Mary and Otis at their home, drinking Dr. Pepper and watching Letterman. The dogs, of which there were seven, scrapped, barked and licked my feet.
I haven’t heard from Lady Iva (the 91-year-old beach queen) for a few years, which is a worry. When my first daughter was born she sent a card and gift. I’d be surprised if Iva was still around, but she had a good life. Who else can say they won a beauty pageant at the age of 91?
Many of these people I met for no more than a few hours, but have been mates ever since. As for golf? Non-existent. I just figured travelling all over America was a damn sight more interesting than playing 18 holes at home.
Above: The Barnes family, Port Arthur, Texas. L-R – David, Karen, Mary and Otis. (Dr. Pepper – photographer’s.)
In his brilliant book, On Writing, King describes how he writes every day. He once told a reporter he skipped his birthday, Christmas, and Fourth of July, because he thought it would sound more reasonable.
In truth, he writes every single day, including holidays, Sundays, birthdays, and holidays. Writing every day makes him happy. Practice brings him joy, and “if you can do it for joy, you can do it forever,” he says.
If you’re a writer, muso, artist, creator – you’ll completely relate to this.
Yesterday I posted a talk by John Cleese. Then I remembered one by the The Boss at SXSW. It’s not short (nearly an hour) but is worth every minute if you, like me, are fascinated by the creative process and wonder how such a guy forges a long lasting career.
Springsteen is humble, but needn’t be. Nor does he have to give this talk. But you get the feeling he actually enjoyed it. So grab a cuppa Joe and listen to some wise words, the best of which come right at the end:
‘So, rumble, young musicians, rumble. Open your ears and open your hearts. Don’t take yourself too seriously, and take yourself as seriously as death itself. Don’t worry. Worry your ass off. Have ironclad confidence, but doubt – it keeps you awake and alert. Believe you are the baddest ass in town, and, you suck!’
A Fish Called Wanda. Fawlty Towers. The Ministry of Silly Walks.
But what makes the man tick – and how did he arrive at such lunacy?
Firstly, he has rules – particularly if you’re in a group – when coming up with ideas. Here are a few:
In order to create the right environment for creativity you must avoid people conflict and personality conflict. Personality clashes stand in the way of ideas generation. (Get rid of the nay-sayers.)
Avoid those that hijack the creative process through either a passion for their own ideas or due to people conflict within the group. (Just because they’re loudest doesn’t mean their idea is strongest.)
Stimulating physical surroundings will add to creativity and a boring environment will do the opposite. (Get out of the goddamn office! Quit staring at the walls. Go for walk. Some of the best ideas arrive in the shower, though I realise that’s not always considered a group activity.)
You need at least an hour to generate an idea. It takes 20 mins to slow your mind down from feeling time pressured and task orientated. (I read that Cleese and Palin used to escape to a log cabin in the woods to write. For the first hour they spoke complete rubbish: how’s your family; still got tennis elbow; oh, look, a dead cockroach. Only after this ‘download’ were they ready to think, construct and write.)
You’ll get better ideas from people who are relaxed and ready to think about ideas. Allow new thoughts in.
It’s important that creative people are given real deadlines not fake deadlines. Creative people need pressure off to generate ideas.
Most ideal number for a productive creative group is no more than 8.
(Good luck in the shower. Don’t forget the notepad.)
In 1964, Roald Dahl’s ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’ was published by Allen and Unwin in the UK. It took over two years to write and underwent multiple transformations. Here are a few:
Originally there were ten kids – in the end Dahl settled for five.
There was no mention of Grandpa Joe
Until the very last minute, oompa loompas were called Whipple Scrumpets.
The original title was ‘Charlie’s Chocolate Boy,’ mostly because in this version Charlie Bucket climbs into a ‘chocolate boy’ mould in the Easter Egg room and is encased in chocolate. He is taken to Mr. Wonka’s house as a present for Freddie Wonka (Mr. Wonka’s son) and while there, Charlie witnesses a burglary. As a reward for helping to catch the thieves, Mr. Wonka gives him his own sweet shop, ‘Charlie’s Chocolate Shop.’
Also in the original manuscript, ten golden tickets were hidden in the Wonka chocolate bars every week. Mr. Wonka gave a tour of his factory every Saturday to that week’s lucky recipients. In this draft, Charlie finds a ticket on his first attempt. The other nine children on the tour are not introduced to the reader until they meet their respective ends.
Everything stinks till it’s finished. Things change. New characters appear. Have no fear. Just get it on the page!
There’s a line in the song ‘What a Wonderful World’ that says ‘They’ll know much more than we’ll ever know.’ This weekend I discovered first-hand what Louis Armstrong meant when I showed my kids – aged 7 and 9 – the first few pages of a new piece of work I happen to be very proud of.
I knew things weren’t going well when the first comment was ‘Are there any funnier bits?’ The next piece of advice hit me smack square between the eyes. ‘There are too many similies (like, what?) and sorry to say, Dad, where is your solution? You’ve mapped out the problem, but every story needs a solution.’
Neil Gaiman is a literary hero to many. What then, is his advice when you ask him the most important thing he’s learnt when it comes to writing? A man of many words, though in this case few. Nice one.
Great idea. Let’s pitch it to J.K Rowling’s publisher Bloomsbury and watch the cheques roll in. They would never have seen anything like it.
What do you do for the rest of the day?
Lazing about on the couch trying to catch thoughts might look like a part time job, but remember what Hemingway said: There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
A cookbook! Seriously, cook books sell!
I’m pretty sure a recipe for cheese on toast is not in high demand. Thing is, you’ve got to do what you love. In my case, it’s eating, not writing about it.
Why don’t you get into erotic fiction?
Thing is, you’ve got to do what you…wait, let’s leave that one.
You know no-one’s reading books these days, right?
You may have a point, unless it’s a story about a wizard chef who loves nothing more than showing his magic wand to Christian Grey.
