Dr. Dobb's Journal December 2001
P eople are always asking me, "Mike, where do you get your ideas?" And I tell them that all I know is what I read in the blogs. Like Will Rogers and Mort Sahl and Dennis Miller before he became Howard Cosell, I get my ideas from reading the news, which is probably why my writing has the intellectual depth of Saran Wrap.
If, as Ezra Pound famously said, literature is news that stays news, then news must be news that doesn't stay news. In fact, news doesn't stay anything, which is why the place you go to read what was once news is called a "morgue." Yesterday's news, like yesterday's weather, neither chills nor warms, but it is this tapped vein that I mine for my column gold. Or pyrite.
People now and then ask me, "Mike, how do you know which ideas are the good ones and which ones should be avoided like last month's sushi?"
And I tell them that all I know about ideas is that they don't matter. What does matter is the particular expression of those ideas. You can copyright an essay or a section of code, but not the inspiration or innovation behind it; you can patent a process, but not the idea behind the process; you can license Mathematica, but not mathematics. Clearly, inspiration and innovation and ideas and mathematics have no value, but that the arrangement of words on paper or tiny magnetic domains on disks can be worth quite a chunk of change.
Sometimes, people ask me, "Mike, how can I learn the secret of arranging words on paper or tiny magnetic domains on disks to become a highly paid and internationally revered author?"
And I tell them that all I know about writing I learned from a little book called The Writer's Guide: Secrets of Plot Building and Rules for Preparing Manuscript, copyright 1927 by L.C. Smith and Corona Typewriters Inc., Syracuse, New York, USA.
In The Writer's Guide, Wycliffe A. Hill explains the Magic Plot Scale, "a simple, practical method of selecting characters and constructing the plot of a short story, novel, or play." The Magic Plot Scale reduces the plotting of any work of fiction, or for that matter, any news story or magazine column, to a formula that any halfwit can employ successfully. I use it all the time.
Let me show you how it works by writing a short play. First, Wycliffe A. Hill says, "select a character from the list on page 6 who is to play the role of hero or heroine." You may need to repeat this step if you will have more than one character in your story. I choose a taxidermist and a flapper.
Second, Wycliffe A. Hill says, "pick a locality." He offers a helpful list of picturesque locales: cattle ranch, anarchist's den, the city's bright lights, harbor district, stock exchange, onion field, motion picture studio, laboratory, turpentine camp, desert island, prison camp, nobleman's estate, Chinatown, whatever. I choose the changing room in a department store.
We must now, Wycliffe A. Hill tells us, choose the "thing to be desired," one or more "obstacles," and the "twist" with which the story will end.
Once you've done this, the play almost writes itself. I guess I don't have room to present the whole play, but I'll give you a taste:
"That's a nice stuffed owl you have there, Mister."
"Thanks, but it may be my last stuffing job if I can't overcome the obstacle that stands in the way of achieving my goal of becoming America's most beloved taxidermist."
"Well, if you can help me find my other shoe, I'd love to hear all about it."
...and the taxidermist goes on to explain that his work is suffering because he's depressed over the idea that Microsoft will extend its monopoly even farther with its .NET initiative, especially the Passport digital-identity aspect. But the flapper has just read the latest InfoWorld and tells him that Sun and other companies have announced a coalition called the Liberty Alliance to produce an open alternative to Passport.
"Why, that's great news. I suddenly feel that I can stuff again. Say, you're kind of cute. How's about you and me go out and paint the town red?"
...but while they're out on the town, right in the middle of a champagne toast while they're watching a beer commercial in a sports bar, the news comes over the air that Microsoft is considering joining the Liberty Alliance. And the play ends with the ironic twist, delivered by the sweet but jaded flapper: "If you can't lick 'em, join 'em. And then lick 'em."
Michael Swaine
editor-at-large
mike@swaine.com