Getting Started: Even with a Not-so-great Idea

I’ve been thinking about how one generates ideas for poems, stories, novels—or anything for that matter, like engineered new-fangled whatnots, or works of visual or auditory art. I suspect some of you are like me, wasting time thinking you don’t have an idea. And so, you don’t write or make other kinds of art.

Last year I attended a program by Florida professor and poet David Kirby (FSU) hosted by the Florida State Poetry Association. During that session he talked about starting small. And he said that “all poems are a combination of the deliberate and the accidental.” He went on to tell us that there can’t be an accident until you get out on the road—you have to start. And accidents in writing are good things.

Formula for a poem

b + T² = P².  Kirby’s formula starts with a small “b” for a small beginning, plus time squared equals a great poem. (Poem squared.) And there is no such thing as too small an idea. I believe in this—it’s happened for me. Once I start putting words together things pop into view. Oh, I could go this way, or that. Or what about this other odd thing that suddenly came to mind?

You can probably tell that I’m a total pantser. No outlines—just go for it. I’m not worried if I don’t know exactly where a piece is headed. I like surprising myself. It’s the thrill of discovery when I finally unearth what my real theme is. So, I may have a vague idea that I want to write about love as a theme. I start, and what comes out evolves into an ode to oatmeal or a praise song about grasshoppers. It doesn’t matter where it goes once it’s started. This kind of quick start shouldn’t be forced into a leotard when it wants to flounce in a caftan. And in this regard, you need to trust yourself.

Writing badly

So, you spend a morning writing—letting it go wherever it wants to go. And it’s awful. Doesn’t matter! Writing badly is not a waste of time. It’s like a visual artist that simply swirls and scratches with abandon on a waste canvas to loosen everything up before actually beginning in a more serious way. Noodling around will loosen you up and eventually get you headed in the right direction. And that playing around could be full of wonderful accidents—little phrases you like the sound of, a noun changed into a verb that suddenly opens whole vistas in your mind, or a misspelling which—abracadabra!—takes on a meaning that touches your heart. This, of course, leads us to talk about journaling.

It’s so helpful to store these fits and starts somewhere easily accessible. Sometimes, I page through an old journal and one word, or phrase will jump out. That’s my little beginning. (Note: it’s a bit harder to page through a computer file and find something that jumps out at you. But it’s doable.)

Prompting yourself

Here’s a case in point: not too long ago, flipping through one of my journals I came across a line about a dishtowel. A dishtowel? Who knows what I was thinking at time. Perhaps, ready to “toss in the towel.” At any rate, I used the idea of a dishtowel that was worn and grayed to start scratching out something. That was my small beginning (b). After a good bit of time (T²), perhaps two or three weeks of fiddling with it, I came up with the following poem (P²).  Not Pulitzer Prize material, but not bad. (I love my last line.) Then, surprise! It was published in Dunes Review winter 2023/2024.

The Cloth of This Life

Once, if you’d placed your hand inside my life
you would have felt burlap, or homespun cotton—
a roughness necessary for the stuff of sturdy living.

These days, you’ll feel the worn patience
of an old dishtowel. Of days spent tidying up,
or wiping the world dry when weeping spilled over.

Washed and hung to lift in so many summer winds,
this life’s grown thin and soft—faded to an indecipherable blue.
The years have rubbed off nubs from my rough fiber.
Feel that? It’s a life so fine clouds float through it.

Try it yourself. No grand ideas allowed! No monumental themes! Pick something small, something ordinary. Look around where you’re sitting. There are sure to be a number of small items you can get inspiration from. A coffee cup? A candy wrapper? A shoelace? Or, for a different twist on this challenge, what about starting with a small word—a preposition such as over, under, since? Or, at.

The toughest step is taking time. After some rough, fast scribbling to start, give it time to release its juices. Let it sit for a while. Come back to it. Scribble a bit more. Walk away. Come back. Repeat walking away and coming back until it’s found its shape and become a poem, or a story, or a . . . you name it. Just start.

If it helps, here’s a quote to put on your writing desk: “Big things have small beginnings.” Prometheus. (Prometheus is noted as a mythic being in the Western tradition who represented human striving. This seems apt!)

Resource

https://janetaylor.net/quotes-to-inspire-you-to-take-small-simple-steps-each-day/