One of things I wanted to accomplish with my short story
collection Shards was to unleash my creativity and push the envelope.
I’d grown tired of the same formulaic plots and stories, both in literature,
and on television and in movies. I recalled writer Harlan Ellison’s tales about
Hollywood producers being unable to grasp creativity. To pitch them an idea for
TV series, a writer had to give them a one-sentence tagline that analogized the
proposal to a previously successful show. For Gene Roddenberry to sell
Paramount on the idea of Star Trek, he had to describe it in terms
Hollywood would understand. Wagon Train had been a popular Western show
on television at the time, so he pitched Star Trek as “Wagon Train
in space.” Instead of the wagon train traveling to different towns where
adventures would occur, a spaceship would travel to different planets where
adventures would occur. The producers nodded and said “Ah.” Now they
understood.
Today more than ever, everything in Hollywood is about
taking something that was successful and cloning it. Hollywood is all about
sequels and spin-offs and recreations of prior successes. Star Trek is a
perfect example. Hollywood produced three more television series and umpteen
movies and just when you thought they couldn't get anymore milk out of that
cash cow, J.J. Abrams was brought in to re-create the show by rebooting the Star
Trek universe.
The Hollywood producers do this because they are extremely
risk averse. This might sound odd, considering how many millions of dollars
they routinely lose on box office flops and TV ratings disasters, but they
would rather attempt to re-create a successful concept than back an unproven
creative work. Creativity and originality scare them because they don’t come
with a track record. If a work is too different, too creative, too original,
then it falls so far outside their comfort zone they won’t touch it. Creativity
and originality, in their eyes, is radioactive.
What they've lost sight of is, the most successful shows had
their genesis in creativity and attempts to re-create originality only result
in successive degrees of mediocrity. If creativity truly is radioactive, then
attempts to clone it produce mediocre work with its own inherent quality
half-lives.
Creativity is often not recognized or understood. As Andy
Wachowski, director of the film Cloud Atlas, said, “As soon as (critics)
encounter a piece of art they don't fully understand the first time going
through it, they think it's the fault of the movie or the work of art. They
think, 'It's a mess ... This doesn't make any sense.' And they reject it, just
out of an almost knee-jerk response to some ambiguity or some gulf between what
they expect they should be able to understand, and what they understand.”
Perhaps the Hollywood producers are, in one respect,
correct. Creativity requires the viewer or reader to step outside his or her
comfort zone. Sometimes, the viewer or reader simply may not “get it” because
the story is so far removed from that individual’s personal life experience. I
remember a public reading I did several years ago, and what made it memorable
was the fact it was the first time I had been booed by an audience at such an
event. I was reading my short story, The Abuser, a first-person tale of
a woman suffering through an abusive relationship with her boyfriend. I was
only two paragraphs into the reading when the boos and derogatory murmurs
bubbled forth from the crowd.
Yet, like Gunga Din I soldiered on, reading the short story
to the end. The boos and murmurs had stopped midway through and turned to rapt
attention. Still, I was not sure if I had won over my audience. Afterward, a
crowd gathered around me and one woman approached me, complaining my story had
been totally unrealistic. “No woman would put up with that,” she stated
emphatically. “Any woman would have kicked him to the curb in five minutes.”
She walked away, and a woman who’d been standing behind her came up to me and
said in a voice barely louder than a whisper, “Don’t listen to her; she doesn't
know what she’s talking about. You just described ten years of my life.”
Both women had heard the same story and walked away with
completely opposite reactions as to its verisimilitude. They had listened with
the same ears, but filtered what they heard through vastly different life
experiences. For one woman, my writing fell flat; for the other, it had touched
her very soul. That doesn't happen when you play it safe and give the reader a
retread of familiar ground. When a writer pushes the envelope and boldly goes
where no one has gone before, he runs the risk of alienating those who will
never “get it”. But creativity is its own reward, and even those who don’t
understand a creative work today may one day appreciate it when viewed through
the filter of their life experiences yet to come. Beam me up, Scotty.