guff

The Politics of Creation (Not Creative Politics)

I’ve recently become a member of a collaborative weblog (all right, blog) that will try and corral fourteen disparate folk into doing something even the simplest theme anthologies have trouble accomplishing with authors writing independently: create a running work of fiction within a world constructed specifically for our aggregate composition, and to do it in a way so that our combined effort is at least interesting to read. I’ll link to it here, once things are a little more public-minded.

With nary a day spent going over preliminary issues, I already know the problem we’ll have the most difficulty writing through. It won’t be creating and guiding the plot, though we’re hardly off to the races on that one; nor will it be the task of learning to harmonize so many voices in the variety of those gathered in our creative commune; even the editorial demands controlling a story that desires to go off down 14 different paths will pale in comparison.

It’s been said many times, by people much smarter than I, that we humans are political animals — hence it must be true. So it’s politics that will bring the harshest weather to our little fabricated blog atmosphere. We’ll have to deal with it just like any assemblage greater than two people must (and sometimes it only takes two). As my fellow blog composers and I will learn, attempts to erase the political value from an organizational equation rarely comes to anything. And when it does, the effect of the remedy is not necessarily what one expects or desires. So one must learn to live with it. And perhaps die by it.

That the political mind is also an ego-driven one will make it even more troublesome, as the potential for clashes is ever more ripe amongst a group of (young, old, noviced, experienced, unknown) writers. We’re a collection of “artists”, so expect sparks to fly as we push hard on our ideas. Creation is a violent act, politics or no. Getting in the way of that takes guts, but also an expectation you’ll end up bloodied and on your back. Though I may make a few friends from it, I’ll likely create a few enemies as well. And it’s possible the bad parts will outweigh the good overall.

I already have enough of my own creative endeavors to keep busy for months, projects I’ll need to cut back on while I have my foot in with this collaborative undertaking. So why, I might ask (so I do), am I getting involved when I see so much rough terrain ahead? The reason is simple (or is that reasons are?): this is no more nor less than a mountain, a thing I’ve got to climb because it’s there. And though one doesn’t need to give further motive, I will anyway: something James Baldwin wrote comes to mind, a thing I’d like to try and disprove, if in a small way: “The primary distinction of the artist is that he must actively cultivate that state which most men, necessarily, must avoid: the state of being alone.” A creative work borne out of collaboration can act to work against that state. We may not do it well, yet through the politics and the ego swells, we’ll be trying damn hard to, that I’m sure of.

But I believe the best note and so best reason to end on is one from George Sand: “No one makes a revolution by himself.” You were always my kind of woman, George!