Shape The Story - a new initiative

Authors usually want to control everything, particularly what happens on the page. As they should, since that is the very essence of writing stories for others to read. However, there are areas where such a proprietary approach might be limiting.

Consider the possibility of taking someone else's story and pilfering it for content to feed your own narrative, even using some of their characters and taking them in an entirely different direction. Plagiarism? Some might call it inspiration. Others, merely research. The author of the original story will most likely call it outright theft and will promptly take you to court. Consider, therefore, what would happen if that original author did... absolutely nothing.

Well, the first thing would be that the author would have suggestions, in the form of a new story, of where to take their own characters next. The author might find yet more characters in the new work that they might like to bring into their own story universe. There might be ingenious story arcs in this new work that the original author had never thought of, new paths for his or her original characters to explore. The original author might well find all sorts of new and exciting avenues to experiment with.

What about the readers? Those who might have read the original author's work would most likely be intrigued by this new story. They might find a different tone that lets them see the original author's work in a new light. Most importantly, some readers will discover the original author only once they have read the new author's story. In essence, letting go of their work lets the original author embrace a broader audience and a wider story world.

There is, of course, the case of remuneration. The original author might want to protect his or her copyright of their story and everything it contains. But how does someone else taking the story in a fresh and new direction, using the same characters, harm the author's revenue stream? Some would argue it actually increases it, since it allows new readers to discover the author's work. What really matters here is who is doing the writing. The original author did not write the new story, just as the new author did not write the original story. Everyone receives the revenue that matches the work they put in. So in fact, people make more money as a whole with this approach, and readers have more variety of content at their disposal.

Encouraged by this positive conclusion (which many people may hate me for, and I respect their opinion along with their compulsion to tear me a new orifice somewhere unpleasant and probably painful), I have designed a new writing platform, aimed at teenagers, which follows this very concept.

The platform will have a soft launch in October 2017 and will be called 'Shape The Story'.

There will be much to discuss once this launch happens, and I look forward to the many interesting conversations that are sure to take place once this project takes off.

Every idea comes from another idea. We just need to make peace with this notion in order to open up a whole new world of creative possibilities.

Imperfections are the backbone of artistic expression

When something is perfect, we notice. We notice because it feels a little wrong, a little off. We're tuned to slight flaws as signs of human presence, as signatures of personal expression. When these flaws are absent, we can't help but notice. Imperfections make us human.

When we strive to make anything 'perfect', what we usually mean is that we aim to give it our best effort. Achieving perfection in anything is as elusive as attempting objectivity. Our point of view is subjective, it is tainted by our perspective, our opinions. Our flaws. Our subjectivity is what makes each of us unique. Because this subjectivity comes across through our flaws, those flaws define us as individuals. Flaws are our identity.

Character is often defined as a series of imperfections that compensate some other positive attribute. It is what we put up with in order to enjoy the good stuff. What we often fail to realise is that the good stuff needs the flaws in order to thrive. In a strange karmic flow of balance, anything positive requires an offset of some kind, a negative yang to its soothing yin. So flaws can be taken as solid evidence that something precious and valuable is also hidden beneath the surface. They are the symptoms of quality.

In artistic pursuits, an author's quirks and unique touch can often be interpreted as mistakes. Picasso's cubism was inherently wrong from a geometric standpoint, but it brought so much more from its unique, flawed yet deeply personal approach. Balzac and Proust's heavy handed written styles, though hard to experience as a reader, made their prose stand out from an otherwise bland crowd of anonymous writers. And Brancusi's sculptures, abstract in their beauty and style, are true signatures of their author's hand. They are not perfect. Neither were the artists. And that is why they are beautiful.

The key is to see faults and quirks as tokens of identity and to embrace those as part of a larger whole that is unique and human. In trying to be like everyone else, in trying to erase these little imperfections that make us who we are, we lose ourselves in the crowd. That crowd is perfect in its uniformity, and therefore no longer truly human. If we become perfect, we are dead.

Particularly in art, but also in love and life, we must look for cracks in the veneer of perfection. We must seek out the kinks and the misalignments. We must distinguish what is hand made from what is machine made. When we learn to celebrate the departures of objective flawlessness as a step in the direction of human touch, we will be that much closer to a real emotional connection with one another.

Nobody is perfect.

And that's perfectly fine.