50: Chipping Away the Stone
3/18/2013
I finally finished that damn first scene of Chapter Seven: The Wounded. I think it actually turned out pretty nice though, and the long time it took to finish wasn’t due to its difficulty so much as laziness. I didn’t even have a full two pages of it done when I started working on it again yesterday, but once I relaxed and just started playing with it, it all came out. And as I said, I think it’s pretty good.
This whole writing thing is a real mindfuck. I put way too much pressure on myself. I want my work to be perfect, and that’s fine, I’m used to that sort of pressure with my artwork. What jams me up though is this notion that there is just once perfect way to write these books, that already exists in the future, which I must match word for word. That, according to fate, there is only one way.
That’s total horse shit. There’s at least a billion perfect ways to write these books. Every creative choice I make can have a thousand alternate ways of doing it that are just as good. The perfection of quality work isn’t choosing the right paths, but how I walk those paths. And there are countless good ways of walking.
If I’m to decide that some choices are better than others and some ways of handling those choices are better than others, what I’m really talking about is my personal taste. That’s subjective. But I don’t believe quality is subjective. Quality transcends taste. Quality means that even if I didn’t go where someone thought I should go, or handle it precisely how they thought I should, they could still see it was done well and appreciate the ride despite their tastes, which inevitably will differ from mine to one degree or another.
This is how it must be. Because I am repeatedly finding myself very satisfied with my work. Not always, but usually. And every time I begin, I am lost, without a clue how to put down what it is I want to end up with. I feel around and mess with it in such a chaotic and nonlinear way there’s no possibility that I could just happen to stumble upon the one and only perfect piece to a preexisting puzzle.
The only explanation I can see is that there are many, many, many, perfect solutions to every problem. So, instead of trying to pin down the one and only way a scene can be written in order to be perfect, I need to start focusing instead on just doing the work and have faith that if I keep giving it my best and not settling for less, then it will be perfect in whatever way I stumble upon. If it doesn’t seem right, then keep working until it does. That simple.
What keeps me from writing, and finding any excuse to avoid writing, is this pressure to find the one true way my books are meant to be written. The version written in the book of fate, or in the library of dreams. What messes with my head are these legends of Mozart, having an entire symphony in his head and him just taking dictation. Every single note is exactly how it should be. The slightest alteration would diminish the work. It’s the belief in that that messes with my head in a major way.
“I shall define beauty to be a harmony of all parts in whatsoever subject it appears fitted together with such proportion and connection that nothing could be added, diminished or altered, but for the worse.”
– Leon Battista Alberti (1404-14720)
It’s fuckers like this that give me a real pain in the ass!
Present-Day Reflection
7/14/2026
I still agree with my assessment of this issue from back then.
The idea that the perfection of a sculpture already exists within a block of marble and only needs to be discovered is an idea widely attributed to Michelangelo, though it’s actually apocryphal. “The sculpture is already complete within the marble block, before I start my work. It is already there; I just have to chisel away the superfluous material.” Another version has it as, “It is easy. You just chip away the stone that doesn't look like David.” These are popularized summaries of Michelangelo’s creative philosophy rather than direct quotes. The actual quote they’re derived from comes from his saying, "I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free."
I don’t agree with his actual quote either though, which I view as mere arrogance. However, if we were to change one word in his line, I’d be fine with it. Changing “the angel” to “an angel” matches perfectly with my experience. There are countless angels hidden within the block of Michelangelo’s marble, and though many may appear very similar to one another, they are not identical. It’s artistic hubris to presume one can see perfectly beforehand and find the exact version they end up with. Let alone that this version is the best of all possible versions.
The absolute absurdity of such a notion should be self-evident.
