Tool: Thought-Time

Thought-time is the sum of the mental energy put into a piece of artwork. Along with craft-time and distance-time it helps determine the "value" of the work.

Marcel Duchamp, 1917, Fountain, photograph by Alfred Stieglitz at the 291 (Art Gallery) - A urinal signed R.Mutt on its side

Thought-time, as one of my professors described it, is the sum of the mental energy put into a piece of artwork. Along with craft-time and distance-time it helps determine the "value" of a piece of artwork. In the context of the class we were speaking about the monetary/social/historical value* of an artwork, but I’ve been thinking about it recently in the context of writing as well. 

In very quick summary:

  • Craft = How long did the work take? How difficult was it to do? How well was it done?
  • Thought = How much thinking went into the work? Is it a new idea or produced in a particularly thoughtful or exciting way? Does it make the viewer think too?
  • Distance = How old is it? Is it rare/unique/historically significant? 

The two factors the author/artist has control over are Craft and Thought.

The more craft that goes into a work, the less interesting the thought aspect needs to be. That craft can be work on the specific object, but also in the hours of preparation and study of the person or people who created the work. Persian carpets are the product of thousands of hours of labor and further thousands of hours of experience of the people who create them, and those that trained them before them.

The more interesting or more effort the thought, the less craft needs to go into the piece to give it similar value (this is part of why readymades became valued when anyone can sign a urinal, the thoughts were the artwork). The effort/work that went into the piece was either primarily mental or in the accumulated experience of the artist. A unique or groundbreaking idea is valuable on its own merits, even if the execution is lacking in craft. 

If a work is old enough, it becomes valuable in its own right. Its sheer survival through the centuries can make it of artistic/social/historical/monetary value. We value ancient Roman artworks not only for their beauty, but also because they survived the centuries to reach us. 

Of course, if you can get all three, the more the better. But it needs to have a preponderance of at least one of the three to be art. 

Side note: In addition to all the blatant theft, this another reason why AI “art” feels so wrong and isn’t going to be worth anything. It doesn’t have any of the three elements that make art of value. The craft is lacking, they don’t take much thought, almost no effort goes into making one, and the mass nature of them means there’s no rarity. 

So what does this have to do with writing? First off, writing is a type of art (hey, you’re an artist!). Second, all effort you expend is worthy of your time as long as you are working on your craft. Art is the accumulation of your skill and mental effort, which means you need to pile on loads of both, and the more the better.

Even the most mundane description of a walk down the hallway to get a glass of water can be elevated by craft. Your idea does not need to be sparkling and unique, it can be well written and interestingly phrased. And the time you spend honing your craft, even if it is working on emails or ad copy, is also feeding into your accumulated skill.

Conversely, your work does not need to be perfect to be valuble. Your unique perspective cannot be duplicated. Your way of seeing, your thoughts, the way you put together words. The more time you spend coming up with thoughts that are yours alone, or engaging with the thoughts of others. That feeds into your work too.

The more time you spend writing, the more time you spend thinking, the better you’ll get. Daydreaming counts. Reading books counts. Your shitty job writing ad copy or social media posts or technical manuals counts. As long as you’re also putting in the mental effort to think about it and use that time to improve, almost anything you do is working on your writing. So stop feeling guilty for resting, or reading the new book that just came out, or daydreaming instead of

Bad news: If you want to get better at writing, you do need to actually write. I call it putting words on the word-pile. It won’t guarantee you’ll publish something. But it will make it more likely. And it will help you work through the “sucking at something is the first step to being sort of good at something” portion of your progress. 

Good news: Write whatever you enjoy. All words on the word-pile are valid and build your skills and your hoard of knowlege to apply in the future.

*We can certainly argue if "value" is even the right word here, but it was a class on art valuation so that's where the language comes from.

Challenge:

  • Carry a small notebook and a pen with you for a week. Instead of looking at your phone or staring at the ceiling, see if you can write a few sentences or sketch out a scene. If you want, keep track of the small, interstertial times you end up writing.
  • Make a list of all of the writing you do. Schoolwork counts. Work emails count. Grocery lists count. If you feel like it, keep track of how many words you write a week in all categories. I garantee its more than you think. Marvel at the sheer number of words you produce, even when you are not working on your fiction. Make a plan to write a tiny bit more.
  • Give yourself a break from your current project if you have one, and give yourself permission to write the wildest, silliest, weirdest pile of words you can imagine for a set amount of time (say 30 min). Let yourself play again for a moment. Ask a toddler what your story should be about. Use a random generator. Pull ideas from a hat. Whatever sparks some joy.

Photo credit: Wikimedia: Marcel Duchamp, 1917, Fountain, photograph by Alfred Stieglitz at the 291 (Art Gallery) following the 1917 Society of Independent Artists exhibit, with entry tag visible. The backdrop is The Warriors by Marsden Hartley.