Playground rules
Learnings from year one of Such Stuff
I started Such Stuff a year ago as a playground for my thoughts. Now seemed a fitting time to share some things I’ve learned from swinging on the monkey bars and sometimes falling off. It’s my playground which means I make the rules, starting with Rule 0.
Rule 0: Make your own playground, and play!
Rule 1: You’ve made it too far not to have made it this far. We treat imposter syndrome with the impersonal distancing of an ugly yearbook picture rather than the warm embrace deserved by one of the only sure signs of becoming.
Rule 2: Ideas just fall out the sky you know. No, you absolutely should not under any circumstances save that idea because you think it’s the best one you’ll ever have and you want to wait til you have more experience with the craft. Write it, publish it, be embarrassed by it, and move the fuck on.
Rule 3: Shitting means your digestive system’s working properly. You probably didn’t do your original idea justice with whatever rubbish you excreted. But hey, you’re never going to stop eating, and what’s left after you publish those shitty first drafts are all the nutrients you’ve absorbed. Ideas are cheap; experience is priceless.
Rule 4: If you ask someone how they get their ideas and they respond prescriptively, you will know they too come up with bad ideas.
Rule 5: You’re the kid in the sandbox. Sometime between when we were kids at recess and when we become adults, we decide it’s cool to stand on the side and point. Kids have names for the ones who don’t play: LOSERS. Kids are mean; losers deserve our sympathy.
Rule 6: If you were famous, you would take advantage of the access. You’re not famous, so why the hell not take advantage of that. If you’ve been writing about tech and have a desire to write about the deeply-moving film that made you tear up, do it. Fiction, write it! You don’t risk losing the audience you don’t have.
Rule 7: Writing is a state of being, at times seemingly impossible to conjure up, other times an undeniable possession. Learn to do the mechanical thing in both.
Sometimes my best writing comes after writing and deleting and writing and eviscerating scrap for 30mins straight.
On many occasions, halfway up a dumbbell curl, an idea strikes me from above like someone reached into my head and planted it there. Finish the curl, take out your phone, and type like mad. I take notes in Obsidian. I text myself things. I Sublime. It doesn’t matter.
Rule 8: It’s ready when you believe it’s ready. You can change how ready it is; you can also change your beliefs around what ready is.
Rule 9: No one should wear a fedora, but everyone should try one on. It seems so commonplace to try out new styles in your wardrobe, and yet we’re scared to take that approach in writing. What would it feel like for you to emulate the prolix, belletristic style of DFW? Or the succinct minimalism of Hemingway? If only to look in the mirror and say I don’t think this suits me but I kinda think a hat of some sort — maybe a trucker cap — could look good.
Rule 10: What if you were a reader? Before you hit publish, send a draft to yourself in a format where you have no ability to edit. Read aloud. This feels like cheating in the best way possible.
Rule 11: Try hard to be consistent; try harder not to be hard on yourself when you inevitably are not.
Rule 12: Sharing half-drafts is like asking others to invade your personal space. You’re being lazy or self-conscious, welcome to the club! But sharing incomplete drafts won’t help. The times I’ve done this I’ve felt either (1) unsure of how to interpret the feedback and more stuck than I had previously been or (2) less motivated to continue due to a perceived ceding of authorial ownership.
I feel like a kid again! And of course, kids don’t like to follow rules.
I feel enlighten. Start with Rule 0.
Love me some Rule #2!