Novels, short stories and poetry may
be the last bastions of solitary writerly pursuits. With the exception of the rare co-author
team, most fiction writers labor in isolation, islands unto themselves. In other creative fields employing writers,
notably film and TV, and advertising, creativity is a team sport. Playwrights usually start out on their own,
but in the course of production, others are likely to stick their hands in the
cookie jar. The playwright still gets all the credit, but she knows that others
had their say.
I’ve written alone and as part of a
team and each has its charms. This may
be self-evident. When working alone, all
you have is yourself, and you can write what you want. No one is over your shoulder, no one is
scowling at one of your ideas (except your editor, who usually comes in at the
end of the game). It’s you alone, all by
yourself, the god of your world, immune from interruption or censure. It’s what I also love about fine woodworking
and single-handed sailing. But few places on earth are more fun
and exhilarating than a writers room. In
advertising, we usually worked in teams of two – a copywriter and an art
director, where our specialization would dissolve at the conceptual stage and
each would throw in ideas for art or copy without restriction. I might have a half-baked notion that my
partner would slice into a fine part and add something interesting. I’d take this fledgling thought and add
something else, and it would go from there.
Before we knew it, something workable would emerge, and when the
creative director came into the room, we’d have something to show for the time
spent. When writing alone, all the talk is
inside your head. In a writers room, the
talk is usually about anything other than the thing you’re supposed to be
working on. If this was recorded, most
strict administrators would fire us for wasting precious business time on
nonsense. But we knew we were actually
circling the idea, finding context, getting to the destination via a circuitous
route. That’s because we were always
thinking about the task at hand, and any nutrition from the conversation went
directly into the conceptual efforts.
Ideas beget ideas. Talk gives
birth to lines of thinking that spew out concepts. This is how it works.
Advertising might not be the noblest
of pursuits, but it’s not that easy to do well, and when it all comes together,
the adrenalin flows just as strongly as when you compose a satisfying piece of fiction (though some
would argue advertising and fiction are not that different from one another).
In his book The Innovators , Walter
Isaacson maintains that the most important common element of all history-making
digital advances was collaboration. He
makes his case vividly and convincingly.
Though he also cites iterations as key components. One idea building on another. You could apply this to fiction. Where would the modern detective novel be
without Dashiell Hammett and Sam Spade?
What constitutes inspiration versus simply cribbing from an earlier
work? Discerning readers know the difference. They can spot a derivation , which can be rewarding, and just as easily condemn a book as derivative . I once wrote a book that was heavily influenced by the first chapters of James Joyce's Ulysses , which my editor mentioned to a Joyce scholar he knew. The scholar was offended, telling the editor that my work had nothing to do with Joyce. Okay, but I knew how I felt when I was working on that book, the same way I felt reading about Stephen Dedalus. In the quiet of my private mind, I told the Joycean snob to stick it where the self-importance doesn't shine.
I think it’s fair to say that an
iteration, at its most benign, is a form of collaboration. Musicians will tell you at least half of
popular music is based on the traditional 12-bar blues - tonic, sub-dominant,
dominant - format (Steve Liskow, please weigh in). That doesn’t mean so many priceless songs are
illegitimate. Often
when confronted with two equally appealing alternatives, I vote for both. Working alone is the best, except when
working in a team. I wouldn’t have it
any other way.

