How to Think (and Write) Like Leonardo da Vinci, Part IV: Sfumato

Photo by Thomas Stephan on Unsplash

What the heck is sfumato, you may ask? It can be variously translated as “smoked,” or “going up in smoke,” or “fading away.” 

So what does it have to do with writing? 

The essence of sfumato is impermanence, or ambiguity, or uncertainty. See? Even that is hazy, hard to grasp. And yet, nothing in creative work is certain. When we sit down to write, we’re never sure what will come out. We’re not sure if what we’re trying will work. We’re not sure how, or if, it will be published, or how it will be received by readers. We don’t even know exactly where our ideas come from in the first place. 

Writers are often referred to as being in one of two camps: the Pantser, or the Plotter. 

Pantsers write “by the seat of their pants,” telling the story as it comes to them, not trying to make it pretty, just getting down whatever comes up. 

Plotters figure out as much as they can ahead of time, create an outline, and stick to it. 

Most writers probably fall somewhere along the continuum. In a first draft, we might be more of a pantser, as we figure out the story. Then, once we have a draft, we can be more intentional about fleshing it out.

No matter where you fall, you have to be comfortable with ambiguity and uncertainty as an artist. Nothing emerges fully-formed. You might have everything plotted out perfectly, then a 3:00 am revelation turns the story on its head. Or while you’re writing, a character says or does something that veers the story off in a new direction. You can’t plan for it, it just happens. 

The whole process is rife with uncertainty, and if you are one of those people who demands a “return on investment” of time spent writing, well, I have to say, you probably won’t be writing very long. You might bash out an entire novel, pour your heart and soul into it - and then, you don’t get an agent. Or it doesn’t get picked up by a publisher. Or you self-publish to crickets and only sell one copy to your mother. Most writers have multiple novels “in the drawer” that will never be published, to say nothing of half-finished drafts that didn’t pan out. 

It can be most difficult deep in the middle. In the beginning, we have lots of energy and enthusiasm to carry us along. We have faith that we will figure it out. But then, we start to hit all kinds of snags. We have to make decisions about what will happen, about who our characters are in this situation, what will make the best story, if it all makes sense… 

The more craft skill we have, the easier it is to make some of these decisions. But at some point, we have to let go of rigid ideas of how it will turn out. The old writerly adage, “No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader,” holds true. If we can see if coming, the reader likely will too - and get bored and put the book down. (Of course, the best is when the reader thinks they have it all figured out, then BAM! Surprise twist!)

The challenge is that when we sit down to write, we have to sit with the anxiety of not knowing. Most of us like some sort of feeling of control over our lives. We like to know what we’re doing and how things will go. Even if we know in the back of our minds that we literally have no idea what will happen in our lives from moment to moment. We conveniently ignore this reality so we can get through our daily lives without curling up into a ball and giving up. 

That anxiety, though, is one of the strongest drivers of procrastination. We’re afraid that nothing will come out on the page, or it will be terrible, and so we don’t even want to face it. There are all kinds of hacks to help us through this, but the biggest one is to simply recognize this anxiety, and be aware of it. 

Too often it sits there, only semi-conscious, driving our behavior while we’re rationalizing why we can’t write today, or why we suck at writing and should just give up. 

Once we’re aware of it, we can develop that crucial tolerance for ambiguity that we need in order to create. We can actually make friends with it: “Hello Anxiety. There you are! Don’t be shy, come right up. How are you doing? What’s going on with you right now?” 

Then, let your anxiety talk to you. You might want to journal what it’s telling you. What does it want you to know? What’s behind it? It’s usually fear of some kind. Name it. Explore it. Then it will slowly lose its power over you. 

We learn to trust our gut, the Muse, intuition, whatever you want to call it. We also recognize that writing doesn’t just happen on the page. Sometimes the best ideas, or the perfect solution to a problem, only pop up when our minds are relaxed - in the shower, while driving, taking a walk, in meditation… The more you trust the miracles will happen, and make space for them, the more they appear. It’s when we try to figure out everything in advance, and be “perfect,” that the mind seizes up and refuses to engage. 

All artists, including Leonardo da Vinci, have had to go through this creative dance. It’s simply part of the deal. It’s non-negotiable, so the sooner you accept it and learn to live with it, the more you can relax into the flow of creation.   

The concept of Sfumato also works in terms of writing craft, at least in novels (and poems). We don’t want to explain everything heavy-handedly. Dialogue hints at internal conflict and unresolved issues between the speakers. There is tension between what they know, and what the reader knows. We leave room for the reader’s interpretation. We don’t neatly resolve all threads. We have an ambiguous ending that leaves the reader continuing the story in their own mind. That is the subtle art of creating unforgettable fiction. 

How comfortable are you with ambiguity, in life and in writing? Do you trust your gut, or do you like to have everything figured out? Where do you fall along the pantser-plotter continuum? How do you deal with fear, anxiety, and uncertainty in your writing? What about the craft aspect of sfumato? Are you skilled at that yet? What do you want to learn? Take some time to think about, and possibly journal on, these questions. See what comes up.     

When we embrace the principle of Sfumato, we embrace the essence of creativity. We learn to play, and dance, and allow ideas to ripen rather than force them. We recognize that Sfumato is everywhere, in life and art. 

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