You've absolutely no idea!

I was listening to a podcast the other day, Mark Stay's Creative Differences which, if you've not listened to it before, is well worth a go. Mark, an author, screenwriter and podcaster (and the very insightful developmental editor of my debut novel), talks to other authors about a variety of things including their careers, working habits and inspirations. He was also the co-presenter for many years of The Bestseller Experiment with his writing and podcast partner Mark Desvaux (who still heads up that pod, and which is also very much worth a listen).

Anyway, on this particular episode, as in other episodes of both podcasts, the author being interviewed talked about how finding an idea wasn't the problem, it was finding the time to write those ideas that was the struggle. I've always found that assertion difficult to hear because, for me, finding ideas is hard. I'm not suggesting for a second that this guest, nor any of the previous ones, wasn't telling the truth, but the ease with which many authors seems to generate ideas has always made me feel somehow... less.

I've written three full novels over the course of about six years; not overly productive, really. Only one of those books - Dark Waters - I've been happy enough with to publish, and though I'm obviously biased I did, and still do, believe the story of Abraham Hart is a great one. But I've started - and never finished - many other books, and that's mainly because I end up believing that the idea I'm basing the novel on isn't really up to scratch.

What I've often wondered is whether having crap ideas – or what I end up thinking of as a crap idea – still counts as an idea, and do those authors who say they have lots of ideas also find that most of their brain waves end up not reaching the potential they'd hope they would.

I suppose, in reality, I know the answer to this question already. Is a crap idea still an idea? Yes, of course it is (I mean, politicians have loads of them). But when I'm lying in bed trying to will a killer concept into existence, why do I always find it so hard – or, at least, find that I'm so hard on myself – when an idea does float down from the ether and tickle the inside of my head?

Writing is tough (see previous blog post), so I sometime worry about following an idea too enthusiastically, writing wildly for days or weeks, only to decide, at some juncture in the near or distant future, that I've been wasting my time on something that was a terrible idea to begin with (again, doesn't stop politicians). Is that ok, though? I'm aware that things don't arrive fully formed and that it takes time, effort and boundless dedication to chisel something rough and shapeless into something smooth and perfectly formed, but I find it hard to know when to commit to that process.

I don't consider myself a perfectionist, and I don't really believe there's a 'perfect idea', so I don't think I'm holding out for that triumphant, all-conquering lightning strike of genius. Maybe it's just about giving an idea it's own space to grow. We've all heard the phrase 'kill your darlings', but possibly, at first, you have to be more patient and allow the seeds that might... just might... become darlings to take root. Or maybe it's about confidence and experience, knowing that success can come from the most unlikely sources and trusting the process.

I expect this is on my mind because, while the follow-up to Dark Waters is well under way, and the idea is one I'm very happy with, another book I'm working on is proving more stubborn, and that voice in my head is telling me, 'it's a stupid idea. Just give up!'.

If you're happy to share, I'd be very interested to hear what any of you think about the above, and how you manage to navigate the choppy, treacherous waters of coming up with an idea.