Follow the OOH
(Starting a new series on the blog where I’m going to do daily bites on the relationship between writing, creativity, and self-help. Let me know in the comments if you dig it!)
You know what the OOH is, but you might not know you know it.
The OOH is how you felt as a kid when you circled the thing you really wanted in the Sears Christmas catalog.
The OOH is when the limited edition ice cream just so happens to be your very favorite flavor.
The OOH is when you meet someone and immediately know you’re going to be great friends.
The OOH is a bright red cardinal singing against the backdrop of a gray, rainy day.
The OOH is when the wind shifts and you smell flowers.
The OOH is when you’re at a concert and the band plays the opening notes of your favorite song.
The OOH is that little lift in your chest that makes your whole body perk up as if there’s a string attached to the top of your head, and you sit up and pay attention.
The OOH is when you’re scanning through the radio and finally get a signal…
Except that you are the radio and the signal is some message that resonates with you.
When people ask pro writers how they find ideas, they all give different answers, but it all boils down to the OOH, to something that makes them stop what they’re doing and tune in to whatever the universe is saying.
Sometimes it’s a visual, sometimes it’s a snippet of dialogue, sometimes it’s something half-remembered from a dream. The OOH is a butterfly, floating in and out of the trees up ahead, and it’s up to you to catch it.
And on its own, the OOH is a pleasant enough feeling, but it’s not useful unless you recognize it, hug it close, and explore it. You have to crack open the geode. You have to fan the flames. You have to follow the white rabbit, even if he runs through brambles and mud. The OOH is a gift, but what you do with it is up to you.
But how do you recognize the OOH?
First your brain will ping. You’ll think—OOH! Your body will feel it, too. You might smile, cock your head, lean forward, perk up, take a few steps. Your chest will lift, maybe even feel warm or bright or like you can take a bigger breath than usual. You might blink. Your eyes will feel bright. You’ll smile.
It’s that childlike wonder, that sense that there’s something amazing to discover. Once we’re in school, we’re trained to ignore it because it’s disruptive. You might feel the ping, but the teacher barrels on and takes no questions, or you squeak out your question and get a dull answer, or someone makes fun of you for… caring? Yeah, I don’t get it either. But at some point, if you neglect it enough, the OOH gets very quiet. We celebrate it in babies and toddlers and squash it in talkative kids and ignore it in adults who should be working instead.
It’s up to you to reclaim it. To listen very hard for that ping. To pay attention. To spend less time zoned out on social media or binge-watching TV and more time staring into space or going for walks outside. It’s easier to hear that ping when there’s less busyness, when you’re neither numb nor focused. Sometimes it whispers in busy airports or amid the frenetic rumble of a coffee shop crowd or in the line at Disney, but sometimes it arrives in the shower or at the gym or while you’re nursing the baby or lying in bed, trying to go to sleep.
If you haven’t felt the OOH in a while, your first task is to start listening. To feel for it. To recognize it.
To let that excitement infect you.
Your next task is to make the choice to follow it. More on that tomorrow.
The OOH is just the beginning.
