There are some pieces on this blog that I wouldn’t normally have been comfortable writing about, for the very simple reason that I don’t see why anyone other than myself would care. This is one of them.
You see, I have a friend who gives me topics on which to blog. It works, because she seems to have them on tap, and I’m assuming she asks for things she wants to read.
How I work with this idea-generator of mine? That’s how writing works when you’re in a team, really. You have ideators, writers and critics. And you work things out between you.
The best part about working in a team is, clichedly enough, also the worst. There’s a reduction in responsibility. The team does a good or bad job, though if you’re leading the team of course you get singled out. Therefore, there’s a tendency to slack off, and I definitely need to push myself a lot harder when I’m in a team.
Of course, I’m just coming out of leadingÂ one of the most exciting, enthusiastic script teams I could have asked for, where three at least have not needed any pushing whatsoever, and of whom two have been pulled up for over-zealousness
A team is incredibly useful to bounce ideas off. Discussion is one of the most interesting ways to find out what works and what doesn’t. And that’s the most important function of a writing team.
I do think that every writer of fiction has at least a little duality in mind, though. You can actually bounce things off yourself.
No, I’m not joking… notÂ completely.
Working alone, no offence to the over-enthu ones, has always been more my cup of tea. Teams work for College Play, somehow. But otherwise, like when you’re working on a novel, for example, I have absolutely no idea how people collaborate! I mean, literally. It should be impossible. Yet it isn’t. Fascinating.
I’m a private person. There’s a level upto which I let everybody in, and then there’s a level that no one has access to, not even my best friends. I don’t want to share that, ever.
For me, therefore, even knowing that I can get at new perspectives that would never have occurred to me, and that I can pass on some responsibility, and that the work of writing is shared… I’d still rather work alone. I need that sense of ownership.
To hell with catharsis and outlets and understanding myself. I do understand. This way, I own it. Legally, spiritually, it’s mine – a part of my soul.
And that’s why I write alone. I want to