🎬 For Those Who Can’t Let Go of the Dream of Longform Creation: Designing with an Omnibus Mindset

💡 Why We Start Creating

Most of us first encounter creative works as spectators. We love novels, we love films—but loving them doesn’t automatically mean we want to make them ourselves. It’s like food or sports: enjoying them doesn’t mean we want to become chefs or athletes.

When someone asks, “You love this so much—why not try making one yourself?” most people respond:

• “I just enjoy consuming it.”
• “I could never make something like that.”
• “It’s not for me.”

Only a small minority ever say, “I want to try.”

As someone who finds joy in creative work, I want to encourage those rare few. But let’s be honest: storytelling—whether through novels or films—isn’t easy. It takes extra effort to shape a narrative into a finished product. That effort brings deep satisfaction, but many give up before they get there. Most people don’t even start, simply imagining it’s too hard.

Interestingly, some people now say, “I haven’t read many novels, but I want to write one,” or “I don’t watch many movies, but I want to make one.” I don’t criticize that impulse. In fact, I find it refreshing. I’m more bothered by those who say, “You should read 50 classics first” or “You’re not qualified to create yet.” That kind of gatekeeping kills enthusiasm.

Wanting to be a lawyer before studying law, or dreaming of being an athlete before training—that’s a healthy order of thinking. It’s better than being told, “You’re tall, so you should play basketball.” Passion first, then effort.

If writing short posts on social media sparks a desire to write a novel—wonderful.
If filming silly videos on your phone makes you want to direct a movie—fantastic.

Let’s not discourage that energy.

🧱 Why We Fall into the “Big Project Trap”

Even those who take the first step often fall into a common trap: trying to create a grand, ambitious longform work right away. I understand this intimately—because I’ve done it myself, many times.

Why do we do this? Because we’ve experienced the emotional impact of professional longform works. After watching a great film or finishing a novel, we feel a satisfying exhaustion and think, “I want to make something like that.”

If our reference point were short stories or short films, it wouldn’t be a problem. But most commercial works are longform. We’re drawn to the richness that builds over time—the layered histories, the emotional payoff. That’s what inspires us to create.

🧗‍♂️ The Three Walls of Creative Work

In my experience, there are three major hurdles in creative work:

1. Starting
2. Continuing
3. Finishing

Only a small percentage of people ever start. But for those with a creative impulse, starting isn’t the hardest part. If you’ve read a guidebook or tried something by imitation, you’ve already crossed that wall.

If starting feels impossible, maybe you’re better suited to enjoying creative work as a spectator—and that’s perfectly valid.

The real challenges are continuing and finishing.

• Continuing requires persistence and grit.
• Finishing requires something more: the ability to say, “This is done.” It’s a battle with perfectionism and high expectations.

Early on, it’s hard to know when something is “complete.” That’s why setting deadlines and finishing a “draft version” is so important.

Personally, I’ve struggled with the finishing wall since childhood. Why? Because unfinished work holds infinite potential. It could still become perfect. Once it’s done, you face the reality: “Oh… it’s not as good as I imagined.”

But that confrontation is essential. Avoiding it leads to a pile of half-finished projects that slowly lose their spark.

🧩 Finished Is Better Than Perfect

Even a rough, imperfect finished work can be watched, read, and shared. It becomes a real piece of content with value.

That’s why I often emphasize production efficiency, even when people say, “Shouldn’t you care more about quality?” I know that obsessing over quality can derail amateur creators. If you can finish easily, then by all means, focus on craft. But for many of us, finishing is the real challenge.

So what’s the solution for those who lack technical skill or stamina—but still dream of making a longform work?

🚫 Not Another Lecture on “Start Small”

I’m not here to repeat the usual advice:

• “Practice with short pieces first.”
• “Build stamina before tackling a longform project.”
• “Plan your structure carefully before writing.”

Sure, those are valid. But they delay gratification. And whether you’re young or old, postponing joy isn’t always wise.

📚 The Kyogoku Natsuhiko Method: Modular Longform Design

Here’s my unconventional proposal:
Break your longform idea into modular episodes.

Think of each chapter as a standalone story.

A great example is the work of Japanese author Kyogoku Natsuhiko. His novels are famously thick—nicknamed “bento boxes”—but each chapter feels like its own episode. Often, the setting and characters shift dramatically between chapters. As the story progresses, connections emerge, culminating in a satisfying “Ah, it all ties together!” moment.

But even if you read just one chapter, it’s still a complete and engaging story.

For inexperienced creators, diving into a full-length project often leads to burnout. I’ve had many projects stall at 70% completion. Instead, keep your longform vision, but identify a segment that can stand alone. Design it as a short piece.

Usually, this will be the opening episode. Ideally, it ends with a key revelation that sets up the larger story.

Finish and release that short piece as soon as possible. It’s not just a short film or story—it’s the first step of your longform work.

🔗 One Finished Piece Is a Lifeline

That first completed piece becomes your anchor. It keeps your motivation alive.

As you complete more episodes, the full two-hour film or novel begins to take shape. Or you might discover a new idea you’re more excited about—and that’s okay. Because you’ve already finished something, you’re not left with nothing.

Sometimes, creators grow and change. You might lose interest in the original longform idea. That’s fine too. If you’ve already turned part of it into a short piece, you’ve satisfied your creative urge and produced something real.

You might even say, “This was originally part of a bigger concept,” and that backstory adds hidden depth.

🧠 Completion Is Everything

If you start with a longform project and never finish, your output is zero.
Yes, the experience and skills you gain are valuable.
But the emotional toll of “unfinished again” is heavy. It damages your confidence.

Wanting to make a grand, meaningful work is noble. I haven’t given up on that dream either.

But to achieve it, I’m learning to break longform projects into modular, omnibus-style segments.
This approach works not just for films, but for novels and other narrative formats too.

What do you think? Could this be your path forward?

Hope this helps.