Process not Product

Process not product was my mantra for a long time. It was my way of reminding myself that the goal of writing is not just a finished product but is mostly about the process of creation.

I find it particularly useful when starting a new project. I’m often so eager to get out of the limbo of endless possibilities that I jump on the first idea that comes up and run with it. Nothing wrong with experimenting with that idea but I need to keep open to the magic of writing. And allow other potentials be entertained and played with.

The mantra is also helpful when my focus is I need to get this done. I want a finished product/story. Feeling this way, I am generally unwilling to consider any path than the one I am fixated on. When a better ending or a more interesting by-way might be just beyond my tunnel vision.

I know that this sounds as if I’m advocating an infinite wandering in the woods, never settling, never deciding. But I’m not. I am urging remaining open to the creative process which lies within all of us.

What process are we talking about?

So, this is going to be hard to describe. But I know I am in the process when I stop trying to force myself down a certain writing path or story; when I let go and sink into that deep place from which all flows. The calm home that may grant entrance to supplicants but not invaders. Patience and waiting and silence. Just letting it happen, just letting it happen as it is going to. I can’t always drop into that place but when I do, I emerge with something silver. Whether fish or chalice, to be determined.

I’m not sure I can do any better than that to describe the mental state but I hope you have a sense of what I’m talking about.

How do I get there?

Another hard bit. I suspect that everyone’s ability to trust the process manifests itself in different ways. The best I can do is recall a time when I felt it to see if it resonates with you.

I was writing a long short story of a chef and kept adding characters and events with no real end point in mind. I was trying to follow what I was feeling and keep at bay the ‘this isn’t working,’ ‘it’s isn’t going anywhere’ stuff. Without any assurance of anything else to replace those thoughts, of course. Just rolling with what came up.

And then, suddenly, all the disparate elements came together.  The chef’s partner becomes the impetus for change; a rival chef shows the way; the downtrodden sous-chef creates the moment when the chef changes. It was unimaginably exciting to feel the pieces, which had previously been floating off on their own, coalesce into a satisfying and seemingly inevitable whole.

Why does it matter?

Remaining open to the magic of the writing process can have wonderful moments such as I just described. But more importantly, it matters because when I am in the process, whatever it is, I know I am writing from my true self. For one brief moment, I am putting into words who I really am. That may come out in how a character reacts or a scene evolves, but whatever it is, it is me.

Does this sound all over the place and even a little woo-woo? I know. That’s the magic of writing.