The Vision Thing

Some people look at a field of rubble and see the end of civilization, while others say, "Hmm, nice spot for a garden." One of the perks of my writing business is that I often work with visionary people. It's exciting to help someone massage an idea until it's got the right shape and dimensions. My job is getting that vision on paper so we can transform it into reality.

The "visionary" trait is not universally distributed. People who have it are often very creative and most are a bit headstrong. Stubbornness is an important quality when you're trying to launch a new project -- whether it's a book or a skyscraper. Many obstacles can arise when moving an idea from the stage of foggy inception to real life. The architect of a good idea has to be at least a little pushy to move things from phase to phase.

A few weeks ago I had a chance to chat over coffee with a long-time client who has founded several organizations and created some gorgeous city parks and buildings. We both agreed that you can usually sense when some innovative idea will work or not. If your vision has true value, pieces start to come together in ways you hadn't anticipated to make it even more interesting than you originally thought. Doomed ideas seem to keep getting hung up on the rapids. No matter how hard you work to solve problems, no amount of effort can revive them. This guideline is one I use to help decide whether to keep writing something or look for a new angle that finds traction in my imagination and allies in the real world.

This week, while working on a new book project, even the research process really fascinated me. As lists of facts coalesced, I began to see more value and complexity in the concept. When momentum grows, so does commitment. This is what makes writing a true adventure. It's like living in an Eden of ideas.

The photo here, by the way, is not a picture of our Pocono garden. It's a shot of the Libertylands garden in Philadelphia. Those gorgeous flowers were planted on the site of an abandoned tannery where roses were once just a dream. Moral of the story is: plant a paragraph today if you want a bouquet of chapters tomorrow.