Saturday 9 November 2013

59 - DL 10 - The First Cheese Week II

I’d say my favorite kind of cheese is mozerella, but really, I’d like to talk about blank page syndrome.

This is a syndrome that effects everyone, or at least, everyone ever who has ever had to write something. It doesn’t matter if it’s a script, or a musical score, or a painting canvas, or a plain grey wall, everyone suffers from blank page syndrome. Starting something is never easy, especially when it involves being creative, because being creative means drawing on something from within yourself. As such, when people look it, sure they are looking at a book/film/painting/musical score, but what they are actually looking at is a little piece of you. It doesn’t matter how much you hated it, or love it, it is you that is on display. And this thought, naturally, stumps some people. How do you know that what you’re expressing in that particular moment, is even a little, tiny bit good.

Short answer, you don’t. That’s why people enjoy working in groups, instant responses to your ideas.

That’s why whenever you get to a new page, you often have a long pause. Even if you were on a blazing trail for the previous page, and you were right in a stroke of inspiration, you suddenly feel reflective of the page, blank. It’s happened to me all the time, and no doubt it’s happened to both of you, Andrew & R. A..

Of course, it doesn’t happen all the time. Usually, when you’ve planned out whatever you’re working on beforehand, you can push past it quite quickly. And actually tricking yourself by just pushing stuff from a previous onto the next page, and then continuing from there can work very well.

But I know what you’re all asking, what does this have to do with Mozerella cheese.

Well I’m glad you asked, strange other me…

Mozerella is a cheese that, when you start, you don’t really know what to do with. It’s a bit like a blank page, it has the potential to achieve greater things that cheeses like cheddar or Craft-Plastic-Wrapped-Cheese-Impersonator, but you can’t see it. Even if you were at the end of a trail blazing cooking session filled with steamed vegetables, and cup-brownies (delicious by the way) and pasta (a healthy kind) you’ll suddenly get to Mozerella and be at a blank. Do you sprinkle it on your vegetables, or find some bizarre and probably not tasty way of integrating it with your brownies, or do you mix into a cheese sauce and mix that into your pasta? So many options, each just as valid as the next (well, expect the brownies thing) and you’re up to a blank.

But here’s how you get out of it.

Change how your mind is approaching the topic. When we look at a blank page, we think big. There is a whole blank page in front of us, and we need to immediately fill the whole thing with brilliant invention that people will love. An entire page, just like that. Now, when you phrase it like that, it sounds perfectly ridiculous to expect ourselves to fill out an entire page the moment we start looking at it, but we’re not thinking that way at the time.

What we’re thinking is that we have just another small, insignificant page, part of something much bigger, and we are just moving through it one small step at a time. So in our minds at the time, we are just looking at one small page, so expecting us to take the whole thing on at once is perfectly sensible. What we should be thinking, is much, much smaller.

Start with a single line. A single string of musical notes, a single string of words, and single bit of pencil outline. That’s all you have to do. It doesn’t have to be any good, but you’re not making a masterpiece of this page all at once, you have only to start. And what is the most useful thing to start with, how annoyed you are that you suddenly have nothing to write/draw/notate. Your own feelings are the best way to burst through blank page syndrome, thinking and feeling the right way about it, and suddenly, you’ll find that you’ll succeed in breaking it.

Just like cooking with mozerella, you’re not making an entire meal of this cheese, you’re making one, maybe two small things. So pick one (or two) small ways to use it, and suddenly it’s potential to be a delicious cheese gets unlocked.


Daniel Lyons.

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