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June 23 - June 25, 2019
Happy writers develop their own unique ways of working; unhappy ones face similar problems.
Writing is intensely personal. Productive writers develop strategies that suit their individual personalities and environments. When things go well, the words seem to pour from us, and we access thoughts and phrases from the mysterious depths of our minds. Our methods for reaching this state vary; some people prefer scrawling on paper in a crowded café, others type on a computer keyboard in total isolation, disconnected from the Internet. Beyond the act of getting the words down on paper, we apply different strategies for exploring and researching, revising, and publishing. Sometimes the work
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All writing originates from the same basic tool: ...
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For centuries, people have searched for ways to access inspiration and streamline content creation. Whether praying to the muses or shutting themselves into dark rooms, authors use trial and error to find the methods that work for them.
The best writing creates moments of communion between author and reader. A story engrosses you, or a turn of phrase resonates deeply with your own experience. In that instant, you connect with another person through words.
The world around us interferes with the process of creating in-depth work.
a content glut affects both our business and personal lives. There’s only so much time in the day to consume content. As readers, we must be more selective; as writers, we risk contributing to the noise and getting lost in its clamor.
Writers have always struggled with the same core issues: getting the work done (productivity) and creating something worth reading (creativity). And, unless you believe that misery is necessary for true art, aim for a third goal: making the process enjoyable, cultivating a fulfilling and happy life that includes writing. Let’s consider this our triple objective: productivity, creativity, and enjoyment. Surely that’s not asking too much?
Cognitive science offers rational explanations for the practices that many successful authors employ, like writing in the early hours, on isolated islands, or in special workspaces. Without telling us exactly what to do, science may explain why these tactics work.
By understanding the mental processes behind the act of writing, we can work in a way that complements the mind’s patterns and preferences.
Certainly, novelists rely heavily on creativity, and may approach the first draft differently. But in the end, everyone shares similar mental tendencies and obstacles.
You hone the craft of writing through practice; it does not arise from understanding the mind alone. But the practice is easier and more enjoyable when you approach it in a way that complements your mind’s behavior.
It helped me understand how thoughts can interfere with physical performance.
We’re the authors and narrators of our own life stories. Our thoughts provide constant commentary, claiming to own the experiences and our very identities.
Your brain is like cable television, with hundreds of channels but only a few worth paying attention to.
On the one hand, writing requires focus and discipline. We’ll refer to the mental systems behind these behaviors as the Scribe.
Within each of us, the Scribe summons our verbal skills to find the right words, assembles them in grammatically correct sentences, and creates sensible structures. The Scribe manages deadlines and gets the work done.
But writers also access intuition, creativity, and empathy. These processes are the domain of the Muse.
No matter what genre you work in, the Muse fills a critical role, finding unexplored connections and fresh ways of approaching subjects. The Muse accesses the freewheeling, associative parts of the mind to uncover impressions ...
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To be a happy and productive writer, you need to switch gears between the Scribe and the Muse gracefully. But they often get in each other’s way.
Attention and focus are essential skills for writers in a noise-filled world.
Everyone understands the concept of focused attention, because we work to achieve it. Open attention happens when we daydream, or when our minds aren’t focused on any particular task.
When you take a walk, go for a run, or pursue everyday activities that don’t require effortful focus, your mind can enter a state of open attention. During these periods, other parts of the brain can be heard above the stream of intentional thought. Ideas often appear out of nowhere, or we suddenly remember important, unfinished tasks we had forgotten.
Society values the ability to maintain focused attention, but we rely on open attention fo...
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The Scribe deploys the top-down, effortful mind. We access the Scribe with focused attention. The Muse inhabits the bottom-up, intuitive mind. We connect with the Muse through open attention.
What can we offer as writers, if not our unique slant on the world?
By making time for open attention, you can invite your brain to ponder and play with ideas or topics even when you’re not actively drafting or making notes. This subconscious work primes the brain to contribute words fluidly and easily when the time arrives to draft.
The Muse delivers the ideas and inspiration that fuel the Scribe. Without the Muse, writing is drudgery.
Attention is at the root of many common writing ailments. Writer’s block, for example, might happen when you neglect open, mind-wandering attention and thus lose touch with the Muse. Procrastinatio...
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Alternate periods of focused writing with open attention. Accept that your mind will wander and make that part of your master plan.
Technology is most tempting when the work is difficult. If you need to focus, put these distractions aside.
As Daniel Goleman puts it: “A mind adrift lets your creative juices flow.”
Cultivate slices of solitude.
When working in a state of flow, you don’t waste time banging your head against the keyboard, surfing the Internet, or staring blankly into space wondering about the perfect turn of phrase. If you’re drafting, the words roll out smoothly. During revision, you become absorbed in the text and the process of refining it.
The state of flow connects you to the joy of writing.
Flow is the ideal state, but no one achieves it all the time.
The Muse is easily sidetracked, however, so find an environment that minimizes sources of distraction, separating you from the interruptions and temptations of daily life.
Create separation in space. A small room with an expansive view. A “tiny house” office in the backyard. What does your idealized writing studio look like?
Working in a dedicated space signals to your brain that you’re doing something special that requires focus.
Use dedicated writing tools.
Create separation in time. If you can’t physically get away from the everyday environment, try setting aside specific times to write.
Daniel Levitin reports: “During flow, two key regions of the brain deactivate: the portion of the prefrontal cortex responsible for self-criticism, and the amygdala, the brain’s fear center.”
But how do we deactivate parts of our prefrontal cortex and amygdala? How do we draft without judgment and fear? It takes practice.
Try freewriting.
Freewriting is one antidote to judgment, and a great way to practice the kind of fluid connection between the mind and the hands that happens during flow.
Banish multitasking.
Because inspiration arrives outside of our conscious control, we tend to think of it as mysterious, granted from the heavens.
Intuition and nonlinear thought are inseparable parts of the human experience, through which our inner Muse operates.
Don’t skip this section if you deal in nonfiction. All writers share an obligation to bring creativity to every piece, whether in crafting a title, identifying a unique perspective, or finding precisely the right turn of phrase.
All good writing is creative, no matter the genre.
