What’s my aim again?: Facing writerly choices

What you want is a trap door.

When you get stuck in the prison of thought, check in on what you want! Stuck on articulating an idea, on phrasing that doesn’t feel right, on decisions about how to write the ending, or what story vessel to board, on so many decisions on and off the page—it’s easy to get trapped in what we think, figuring out what we think, or should think, or should be able to think, and forget to remember (or to ask) what we simply want.

When I’m working through a piece with a writer, from structure to conclusions to word choice, asking, “What do you want here?” or “What do you want this to do?” can immediately reveal the path that had been hidden to them by over-thought.

Asking yourself “What do I want?” is also a star trap—in theater, the star trap is a sort of hidden door that allows an actor to suddenly appear on stage. Asking “What do I want?” similarly allows you, the writer, to ‘suddenly appear,’ back in control of your space when you feel overwhelmed or confused by thinking, or trapped in the backstage of old thoughts and ideas. Forget about what you think makes sense, or what you’re trying to prove—this is stifling and you will be unoriginal!

Ask what do I want…

  • …for the project / piece

    • “I want it to be evergreen, I want it to be helpful, I want it to be beautiful, I want it to be honest, I want it to be thought-provoking, I want it to be practical!” Any one of these and more!

    • This is not an impact question like, “I want it to get 10K likes!” or “I want it to make me famous online!” Think about the piece or project like your little child, what do you want for it in its life?

  • …for the reader.

    • What do you want to happen to them as a result of reading this piece? What do you want for them? What impact do you want this piece to have on them? What do you hope they will do with what they learned, or how this piece will affect them?

    • Answers like, “I want them to read my piece and forgive themselves, be liberated from a certain storyline, to tell their loved ones they love them before it’s too late” can help you make important decisions about structure, storytelling, conclusions, and more.

    • eg. “I don’t think we have a good structure yet. I want my reader to really understand what it feels like to be in this place… Maybe I should remove the definitions and references and just let the story take them in.”

    • or, “I don’t know how to end it, I feel like I already proved my thesis and I don’t want to just restate what I already explained, but I know the piece can’t just drop off suddenly. I want the reader to take action after reading this piece, and literally do X—immediately. I could use the space of my conclusion to state that goal, explicitly tell them what my aim is so they feel how important it is, like a plea. I was being too vague before. That could work!”

  • …the passage, sentence, word.

    • Read your piece out loud, stop at the end of every sentence and actually ask yourself, “What do I want this sentence to do? Is it doing it?” What do you want each passage to do, each word that could be otherwise, what should it be doing toward the goal? What do you want it to convey, evoke, get across? What mood do you want it to create?

    • Don’t think about what’s ‘wrong’ with it—think about what you want it to do! Then empower it to do that thing!

    • eg “I don’t understand how to make this sentence not sound bad. I want it to be more evocative than declamatory—I want the sentence to convey that it is Summer without saying it is Summer. So, ok, I’m going to cover the lake with dragonflies and take out the bit about it being ‘mid June.’”

    • or eg “I want the word choices to evoke immediate nostalgia, so I’m going to pause when I see a generic word that can be replaced with something super specific.”

If you come in with a ‘preconceived notion’—an idea or thesis—test it against what you want. “This is the best word to use, this is the structure that makes sense, I can’t do this, this is my goddamn point.” Don’t let these theses (what you think) eclipse or confuse your goal (what you want). The goal is the most important thing. Don’t be overly attached to ideas. The piece you write (the life you live) may be about the journey of dismantling the thesis in order to reach the goal.

When you’re lost in the shadows below the overthought, when you’re fighting with yourself about a course of action, when you’re stuck with something that feels impossible to know: always always always check what you think (presumptions, assumptions) against what you really actually want. Is this the best way? Is this the only way? Is this any way at all? Don’t let what you think get in the way of what you want. Think there’s only one possible choice? Think every thesis you’re operating on is valid? Think again. Stop thinking.

What you want is a trap door.

It is.

Rachel Jepsen Editorial

Find your voice, refine your message, and say it a whole lot better.

https://www.racheljepsen.com
Previous
Previous

Get your own MFA!: What I learned in grad school

Next
Next

The art of returning: Creativity’s many loops