The Idea Completion Consultant
Judith Greber (aka Gillian Roberts)
[From Margaret: Please welcome my good friend Judith. Under her real name she's written four well-received mainstream novels. Using her Gillian Roberts' name, she's the author of the Anthony Award-winning Amanda Pepper series, two mysteries about Marin County detectives, a short-story collection and the how-to: You Can Write a Mystery . Either Judy or Gillian is currently finishing a novel set against the Inquisition in 17th century Mexico.]
This past year, I had the pleasure of spending a month in the sort of sleepy Mexican town we call "unspoiled" as we flock down there to spoil it. So far, this fishing village is fairly intact with just enough appreciation for tourism to provide non-sleepy-Mexican-town comforts. Nonetheless, it's the kind of place that makes people ask: "But what do you do there?"
Well…nothing. I've discovered a great talent for doing nothing. It's quite enough to begin the day with an hour or two walk in the surf, observing what the tide brought in, talking with the fishermen getting ready to go out, talking with other beach-walkers, talking with each other.
And of course we brought all the electronic vestiges of the 'spoiled' world: music, DVD's, computers, p-books and e-books, watercolors and cameras. There were friends and family to visit us, the leisurely old-world food shopping: first, to the vegetable and fruit man, then the chicken or fish market. Dining out was either the incredible taco stand set up on the sidewalk on a folding table each night or more traditional restaurants. And always sun, sand and sea. Also margaritas, of course.
And, yes, an unfinished manuscript to which the only word added was, 'manaña.'
As I said, nothing.
One thing that had not (yet) reached town was shopping as entertainment. One overpriced artsy-crafty shop and one lovely clothing store for 20 year olds who wore size 2, and that was that. Which is why, en route to the butcher, baker and such, I consistently ignored a storefront I passed on my way. One glance at the fading sign sufficed. Surfing lessons. Souvenirs. Gifts. The town didn't have interesting shops but it had lots like this, so I walked on by.
Besides, even if I had been ready to leap on a boogie board, or buy a t-shirt, the store was always closed.
For some reason (perhaps I really did need another cheesy souvenir key-ring?) right before we were leaving, I finally read the sign carefully, and would have given anything for the door to be unlocked and the store opened. It wasn't the 'coffee and snacks' or second-hand clothing exchange that got me. It was the final entry.
An idea finishing consultant! Who would not be enchanted by the idea? I could think of a million times I would love to dial: 1-800-finish-the-damn-idea.
"I have this idea," I'd say. "Actually, half an idea--a premise, and I have no idea where it's going. Say…what if when a plane lands, there are three less people on it than boarded?"
"I have this novel I'm writing and I'm not at all sure how it should end."
"I have this great start to a short story but…"
"Finish it for me. Please." .
I've been told that everybody has a 60-page start of a novel moldering in a desk drawer. An idea finishing consultant (I.F.C. hereafter) could inspire and dictate the remaining 300 pages. Desk drawers across America would be clean again.
This is the new industry—the job that needs creation to end unemployment. Building a better mousetrap is nothing compared to knowing how to finish our ideas.
You don't have to be a struggling writer to need an I.F.C. Too often, I find myself a stranger in a strange room. I know I bustled into the place but… why? I had an idea, obviously, but now I have no idea. I.F.C. to the rescue again!
The whole world could use a qualified I.F.C. How many ideas are stillborn? Paintings and symphonies unfinished? Crafts, sweaters, home improvements begun enthusiastically and then…can't remember why we thought that was a good thing to do. A top I.F.C. could even unstall Congress.
However, the consultant was never in. I assume she had a ginormous list of clients, and she was always out of her office, finishing up ideas.
She might have finished mine. I'll never know. I had to complete my manuscript the old-fashioned way, myself.
When we return this year, I'll have an answer to questions about what there is to do there: visit the Idea Finishing Consultant. That alone would be worth the trip.
Am I alone in being in love with the idea of such a service?
