Chase the Butterfly: Chaos Theory in Writing

Last week I talked about the book You Majored in What? by Katharine Brooks, and this week’s post is also inspired by the book. The entire premise is that currently, people think about careers linearly. You major in accounting and then become an accountant. But 70% of people end up in jobs with no bearing on their degrees. Brooks puts forth a new way of figuring out what you want to do and how to get there: using chaos theory as a model.

Chaos theory is complicated, but for our purposes you need to know only two things: you don’t know what you don’t know, and always make room for the butterfly.

Have you ever set out to write a book, outlined it, sat down to write, got 1/3 of the way in, and then just puttered out completely? Suddenly it’s like pulling teeth. How did you get unstuck?

In a situation like that–or when I’m at any stage, really–the problem is usually that I’ve thought I knew what should happen, or I should do, and I didn’t. I usually get out of it by backing up, backing off, and working on other things–refilling the well, giving my subconscious space to work–and the answer is usually out of the blue and unexpected. I didn’t leave room for chaos theory, for the butterfly that’s going to make a tornado for me.

It makes sense that this would apply to writing, doesn’t it? Writing is a creative endeavour, making something out of nothing. It needs inspiration, a drop in our barriers. So when we start going through the motions like we already know everything, we’re automatically stifling an important aspect of the process.

If you don’t leave room for a creative answer, you’re never going to find it yourself. You won’t know where to look or maybe even what you’re looking for. Ideas come from places you’d never think could be inspiring–and so do solutions.

So how do you chase the butterfly? How do you purposely leave room for creativity? This is akin to filling the well.

In the book, Brooks makes use of mind maps, and often she’ll ask you to leave a box blank for the thing you don’t yet know. It’s a great idea because we’re all aware we don’t know things, but this brings that space to the fore. When I was making one of my mind maps, I was obsessed with that empty box. Anything could’ve come up to fill it! And when you’re aware of something, your subconscious works on it more. It’s like a blinking neon sign pointing at something to be filled in. It can help you get out of your own way to keep in mind you might not have the answer yet. To the plot problem, whatever it is.

Diversify. If your favourite genre is urban fantasy romance, try reading a book on philosophy. Read a biography. If you prefer literary novels, read a pulp thriller. The more places your brain has to draw from, the more creative and unique an answer it can come up with. (And the less cliche it will be.)

Ask around. If you’re stuck on the scene where your fellowship travels to the Mountains of Magrabeth, maybe start doing some more research on the type of travel they’re doing. Are they on foot? Have you considered giving them horses or a cart? Maybe that ticks off a memory that you should put a farm along the way, because the farmer has vital information they’ll need once they reach the mountains, and suddenly your story’s moving again. All because you didn’t know about horses but thought maybe your characters could do something besides walk.

You don’t know what you don’t know. Chase the butterfly.

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