"Scenius stands for the intelligence and the intuition of a whole cultural scene. It is the communal form of the concept of the genius." Brian Eno
Hi friends,
And first of all, welcome if you’re new here. This is my free Sunday post but if you want to know what else goes down in the Membership then hop on over to my Welcome post and get stuck in:
Also, before the whimsical and the jolly, please read this by the unparalleled
and know that my heart is breaking too, but I have to share her hope:Now, back to today’s programming…
This week, I’ll start with a word coined by Brian Eno and further explored by
in his book, Steal Like an Artist. It might be new to you so let’s imagine an Oxford English Dictionary entry for it:Scenius (noun) Scenius (pl)
Definition: The genius of a scene to which a person belongs
Synonym: collective genius
Usage: “I don’t quite understand what happened there during that co-working session. Whatever it was, I’m now compelled to write some genre-busting hybrid prose poem. I’ll put it down to the power of scenius.”
Or
“Scary as fuck sending your work to a scenius peer for a first-draft-pass, but I know I’ll think about something differently when she’s done. Then she’ll send me hers.”
Or (implied usage)
“Went to see a band I love last night and blown away by reimagining of old tunes, now with added sampling. Wonder if we could try that. Come to mention it, those lyrics make me want to write differently all of a sudden… ”
(an insight into the WIP that is Johnstone’s English Dictionary…)
This might not be your life but perhaps some of the above gives you pause. Asks you to consider the (creative) work you do and the conditions that allow you to do it best.
Scenius is not restricted to the ‘creative’ living a ‘creative’ life
I want to think about the term in the broadest, most inclusive sense first. Maybe you work in a team where – for part of the week – you’re remote-working, then have an office day. Ask yourself whether the boldest, most ‘creative’ work happens when you’re at home in your jammies nipping off to hang up a wash between Zoom calls, or when you’re sitting round a table with others. I know which one seems more appealing to me on a dank Glasgow morning, but I also know which will lead to a better flow of ideas, communicated and extrapolated in a common language. In my day job, days like this leave me feeling energised rather than drained and regretting (some of) my life choices.
It’s not about brainstorming, either. Or not just about brainstorming
For something powerful happens when we work on our own stuff in the company of others. Want to run something quickly past them? They’re right there. Flagging or in despair? Turn to their bookshelves (sidebar: I love other peoples’ bookshelves) . Who do they read? What might you find there, or whose words might they suggest you dip into? Maybe you’re in a creative space and can nip into a gallery space to stretch your legs?
Co-working or body-doubling (either IRL or on Zoom) offers the very best form of peer-pressure where mutual appreciation and gentle reframes form the Code of Conduct. There are brilliant virtual co-working spaces hosted here by folk like
, and (who wrote on the power of scenius on her publication, The Life Boat, last year:I wouldn’t have known about her post even though I’m a paid subscriber of Sam’s unless I’d posted something on Notes that she replied to. So glad that she did, because it helped consolidate (and add to) my own thoughts. See? Steal like an artist, friends. It’s ok that she’s written about it already. It’s ok that I’m writing about it now.
It doesn’t have to be forever. What about scenius more fleeting, ephemeral?
I’m going to call it: My week at Moniack last December was a masterclass in the swift formation of scenius. For scenius to be most efficacious, Eno believes that the creative person must be immersed in it. Individuals in a productive scenius will blossom and produce their best work, he says. When buoyed by scenius, you act like genius. Your like-minded peers, and the entire environment inspire you.
Now, this is not my everyday experience of this creative life. I doubt it’s yours, either. But perhaps making pockets of time where the only distractions come in book and fellow-creator form can top you up and send you on your merry way.
For that week, I was able to completely give myself over to words. And though I am in dire need of some solo time away from my normal life right now to press on with my current WIP, that magical time spent with others when some of my ideas were in their incubation phase changed the way I’ve gone on to approach it.
See also: Alnwick Story Fest. I was only there because of friendships made on Substack. Being immersed in that environment and having the luxury of time to think and chat and just ‘be’, I’m sure, led me to come up with the initial idea for a new book. I’m 10,000 words in now, and leaning heavily on the power of the collective genius again as I prepare my proposal.
Sold? Thinking already about your scenius is, whether you’re ‘in’ one, or what you can do to create one?
This is not a plug for Substack, but if you are a creator here, just consider the ripple effects on your practice from simply engaging in dialogue about yours and others’ work on a regular basis. You may not have formally recognised it, but the ecosystem within which we write and read is having an impact on our work.
You’re already operating in scenius.
There will be some folk you’ll view as your ‘colleagues’ and yet others you read and engage with purely in appreciation (which, of course, also feeds your work). Would projects like
‘s Sound Circle Consort or the IWD Daisy Flower Crown set up by a whole gang of us have happened were it not for being a ‘part’ of something already? We are normalising that kind of collaboration. The attendant accountability.It’s no surprise but writers and creators supporting, cheerleading and working closely with ‘colleagues’ as well as being influenced by their readers and collaborators get better at what they do. Like all shared human endeavours, though, ultimately it comes down to trust. Who do you trust with your work? In fact, who do you trust with your thoughts when they’re not yet fully formed? And who is going to trust you with theirs, and why?
I loved this piece by
last Sunday, Your editor is not your enemy: on writing as collaboration, where she unpacks the power of working with a good editor. The need to face the fear of others with no skin in your game (not a spouse, a friend, a parent…) reading your words and giving you feedback. I wonder how this sits with your thoughts on scenius? Because though we may write most often here without consulting anyone else, I quite often use the secret draft link when a post is ‘done’ to share it with a set of trusted eyes. They do the same with me, too.Do you keep it small, especially to begin with? It works for me. I’m gaining so much by working alongside a wee core of brilliant Scottish writers. You might have seen me shouting recently about
who’s an Edinburgh-adjacent poet in the middle of a month-long project called Poems Shared from Scotland. If you’re not following along already, each vid is just a couple of minutes long and I’m finding them a lovely marker in the day (or night, depending on when he posts them!) Here’s the very first poem in the series, Oak Glossary by Seán Hewitt :I’ve also been working IRL alongside
and can tell already that her approach to form is definitely rubbing off on me and she’s a trusted pair of eyes on my first drafts:Finally…
Who do you respect? Who is inspiring you to be bolder, braver and more ambitious in your work? Who would you like to align yourself with? If ever there was one, this is an invitation to be supportive of them and do great work. I’m part of a trusted group of life writers who publish on here and elsewhere. The pact is that we offer one another not only creative counsel but solidarity and emotional support in what is a tough industry. It’s been so valuable knowing that a group of other writers are on virtual speed-dial, and ready and willing to cheerlead when we hit ‘publish now.’
I’d love to hear about your experience of working, making, playing and being alongside others. See you in the comments, friends!
Oooo I love this, so here for the scenius!! Yessss so much of how I feel since being here on Substack is inspired by the collective, in terms of support, inspiration and collaboration. I find it amazing to be seen by other writers and have their own perspectives reflected back to you, which then goes on to inspire more discussion and ideas. Have also totally fallen in love with online co-working, it feels so lovely. (Not to mention IRL events, very excited to meet some lovely Substackers at our spring gathering in London next weekend!!) xx
Fabulous word Lindsay, I definitely enjoy the scenius of substack writers, I feel right at home here and the scenius def fuels my creative energy. I’m not sure we can all declare ourselves genius, but scenius? I’m in! Will drop it into conversation as much as possible from now on.