How to start a new creative adventure

I love to read a good prose and I would love to be able to write some. But I’m not good at it. I’ve tried different strategies throughout the years but they were all inefficient and lead to much frustration. Strategies that worked with theoretical physics and photography failed miserably when applied to writing.

I do not have an inate talent as a writer so the only solution is to keep practicing to reach a decent level. It then occured to me recently that paying for a virtual space devoted to writing could be a good commitment to practice regularly and improve my skills. I could write about anything as much as I kept doing it. It sounded like a good plan, so I purchased this space.

However, instead of writing I started imagining the future of this blog and all the articles I’ll be publishing. All the topics I’ll address. All the ideas I develop. This paralysis–due to some cognitive bias in my flawed brain–wasn’t resented and I even felt good about it. As good, in fact, as having the imagined posts published already. The strong initial commitment produced the opposite of the desired effect: it justified my procrastination.

I’ve encountered variants of this effect (intertia after a strong initial commitment) at various stages in my life. Everytime I commit to a new creative project there’s a period of pure projections void of any action. The harder the project, the more work it requires, and the longer the inert period. With time I learned to shorten these periods—but not to eleminate them.

I don’t know if that it’s an issue for anybody other than me, but here are some lessons I learned along the way about starting new creative adventures:

Have a broad vision, follow your instinct, and keep working. Get your ideas out into the world. The most important think is that you keep working on your ideas. Sometimes it’s a simple statistics game: the more you work and try out ideas, the higher the probability of finding what you’re really after.

Initial quality and content don’t matter. Every creative process worth pursuing is exploratory by nature. You’re not supposed to know where you’re heading. And skills need time to develop.

Every general idea for a creative work is composed of smaller ideas. I call these atomic ideas ideons. An ideon has little value by itself but is important for the work as a whole. For instance an ideon could be a plot twist in a fiction work, a single photograph from a photobook, a character’s gaze in a painting, an equation in a physics article, etc.

The only relevant metric to gauge your success is the number of ideons you’ve realised. The more ideons you realize the more you can extract; you build on what you have already made manifest. It is a slow iterative process. Ideas evolve and blossom when the process moves smoothly into the future—one ideon at a time.

Ignore projections: Focus on the next ideon, not the final product. Projections are discontinuous jumps into hypothetical futures; they carry the illusions of the present and skip the gap where all the evolution takes place. There’s no flow in them. No ideons. They remain unattainable because they are atemporal. Ignore them as much as possible.

What matters then is to get the process started, to focus on the next idiom, and use instint as a guide.