It’s difficult to explain what it feels like to someone who’s never experienced it themselves.
The way reality slows down or stops the moment you see it.
The way your chest twists and spasms and your stomach flutters.
How good it feels to be in the presence of something you never want to distance yourself from.
How you could just drop everything right here, right now, if it meant you could spend every moment, awake or asleep, with it.
This, at least to some degree, happens to every writer when they stumble upon a new idea. We tremble with excitement, we feel dizzy, we wonder how we’re ever going to be able to accomplish anything again, because of this new obstacle that feels a lot like a blessing.
It feels a lot like falling in love with someone for the first time. Whether it’s happened to you or not.
The moment we realize we like a person — you know, REALLY like them — RIP normal life, because it’s next to impossible to concentrate, to sleep, to eat, to breathe, because you just. Can’t. Stop. Thinking. About. Them.
The same way you can’t stop thinking about a new idea — one of those sparks of inspiration that starts unfolding and expanding in your brain until it all but consumes your mind.
Everything is good. Everything is new. Everything is beautiful.
But that doesn’t mean it’s perfect.
Every relationship — whether it’s with a person or an idea — brings out imperfections on both sides that don’t always blend well together.
You will struggle. You will consider quitting. Giving up.
And sometimes, you will. Not necessarily because you want to, but because you know it’s the best option. Best for you. Best for an idea, for a project that just isn’t meant to be.
Yet many relationships survive. Maybe because of time, because of patience, because of compromise, or the acceptance of imperfection. Maybe in some cases fate or gods or the Force willed two things to come together, two people or a story and a storyteller, and refused to let them break apart.
Some stories, some relationships, are made, and meant, to last.
Love, of course, doesn’t mean you never get frustrated, never fight the temptation to argue, never wonder what would happen if you just texted that one other person back, or started writing a new book before finishing the first one …
Ideas are intimate, in a way that’s nearly impossible to explain to someone who hasn’t spent years learning more than they ever cared to know about it, and opening themselves up fully to it, taking risks, sharing secrets, trusting it with all they have.
But that’s why it’s so wonderful, when things work out. When everything falls into place. When the one thing you didn’t expect to happen does, and you’re more than glad about it.
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Meg is the creator of Novelty Revisions, dedicated to helping writers put their ideas into words. She is a staff writer with The Cheat Sheet, a freelance editor and writer, and a 10-time NaNoWriMo winner. Follow Meg on Twitter for tweets about writing, food and nerdy things.
4 thoughts on “Meeting a New Idea Is Kind of Like Falling In Love with Someone for the First Time”
Reblogged this on findbooksinside.
Wholeheartedly agree. There is something magical about that initial period, when the idea is just that, and everything is magical and wondrous and new.
And I think, in some ways, that’s necessary.
Just as a good story needs that strong opening, a good idea needs that initial “love struck” phase to get us invested, so that when we do “come back to earth”, we have enough of an investment in the project to keep us motivated to continue, unless the idea truly isn’t worth it, or we’re not ready to bring it to life, just yet.
Reblogged this on DSM Publications and commented:
Check out this post from the Novelty Revisions blog on how Meeting a New Idea is Kind of Like Falling in Love With Someone for the First Time.