I agree with George that “it might be the case that the ‘aggressive’ thinking is not ‘bad’ or ‘wrong’ at all, but exists to enable the ‘passive’ thinking that might eventually lead to a solution.” In fact, I think I’d go so far as to say aggressive, conscious thinking could well be necessary to push the problem into the unconscious mind. In one of his essays, Oliver Sacks recounts an experience the French mathematician Henri Poincaré had in 1880. For fifteen days Poincaré worked intensively on a complex mathematical problem, then his labors were interrupted by a lengthy trip, during which he forgot all about the problem—at least consciously. One day late in his trip, he stepped onto an omnibus and the solution to the problem popped into his head. This “sudden realization,” Poincaré wrote, was “a manifest sign of long, unconscious prior work.” This and other similar incidents in Poincaré’s life convinced the great mathematician that, as Sacks says,"There must be active and intense unconscious activity even during the period when a problem is lost to conscious thought, and the mind is empty or distracted with other things. This is not the dynamic or 'Freudian' unconscious, boiling with repressed fears and desires, nor the 'cognitive' unconscious, which enables one to drive a car or to utter a grammatical sentence with no conscious idea of how one does it. It is instead the incubation of hugely complex problems performed by an entire hidden, creative self." And this hidden, creative self is our wiser self. As Poincaré said, “The subliminal self . . . knows better how to divine than the conscious self, since it succeeds where that has failed. In a word, is not the subliminal self superior to the conscious self?” I agree. And I think the experience Poincaré describes is not unusual but actually something we all commonly experience. For example, we might spend an hour trying to remember the name of a song or a book or whatever, and come up empty, but then some time later, while we’re just walking down the street or opening a refrigerator and not consciously thinking about the problem anymore, the answer pops into our head. I think Einstein sums up creative process well: “I think 99 times and find nothing. I stop thinking, swim in silence, and the truth comes to me.”
I love the value you ascribe to consciously wrestling with a problem. Yes, it might be our subconscious that ultimately formulates the solution, but we need to think through multiple scenarios, facts, issues, etc. before we have enough material to generate that "aha" moment.
I do wonder, do you think there are specific techniques or practices that can help us effectively feed the subconscious with the right material to work on, improving our chances for those "aha" moments? 🤔
I feel like just wrestling with the material is probably tactic enough. I think the connection between conscious and unconscious mind is probably too mysterious for there to be a tried-and-true technique. But I also have not taken a formal writing class, so there very well could be methods I’m not aware of.
Yes, we come up with solutions when we're done wrestling for solutions--when we drop the aggression. The answers, as many have said in these threads, pop into our head when we're distracted elsewhere. I think many of us have our best thoughts while driving or taking a shower--we are actively engaged elsewhere, leaving our thoughts to remain behind to percolate. Just yesterday, I forgot my (distant) cousin's name. I still haven't recovered it. But i know for certain that it will come to me at some point, seemingly out of nowhere.
David, I am so excited about your Words Made Flash: The Craft of Fiction. Pre-ordered. You are a master in your own league, sir. And thank you for this comment!
How do you think we can cultivate this balance between aggressive conscious thinking and allowing space for our unconscious mind to work, especially in a world that often emphasizes constant productivity?
I don't know of any shortcuts to productivity. But there is one thing we can do to give our unconscious mind as much time as it needs to do its work: do our best not to think about what we're writing when we're not at our writing desk. The aggressive conscious thinking we do while we're writing pushes the story and all the questions we're trying to answer and all the problems we're trying to solve into our unconscious. Not thinking about the story when you're away from the desk is very hard to do, but I believe it's essential. As Andre Dubus said, "I try not to think where a story will go. This is as hard as writing, maybe harder; I spend most of my waking time doing it; it is hard work, because I want to know what the story will do and how it will end and whether or not I can write it; but I must not know, or I will kill the story by controlling it."
Yes, one of Ray Bradbury's maxims was (outside of writing): "Don't think." The process described here might be the reverse: Aggressive conscious thinking brings, or makes, everything up-front, which disperses the natural creative process, normally reserved for the page or screen. Going into it consciously, away from the page, breaks apart the threads of connectivity - in a research group of which I'm a part, this is called "junk think."
The timing of this post is interesting. It popped up on my screen shortly after I had made the decision to stop writing and go to the pool. I was debating whether I should bring my notebook with me and my map of scenes. I decided to pack a copy of The New Yorker instead to give my brain a little break from thinking. But I suspect that it will carry on thinking about the story even when I read The New Yorker, in that subconscious, passive way. I actually get my best writing ideas when I give my brain a break and read for pleasure, or even do something as simple as take a pee break. Like Mary, my aggressive thoughts tend to be unhelpful. They are the bully that attempts to block the creative process. Usually out of fear, which is understandable. But in my creative practice solutions come from a state of flow and letting go, rather than desperate control. The challenge is - how do I get myself there? I remind myself that no one will die from my bad writing, I take long walks, exercise, practice yoga and meditation and make sure to fill my well. I continue to admire the honesty with which you write about your writing process! It’s very inspiring. And this community has always so many interesting things to say. Love it here
"solutions come from a state of flow and letting go, rather than desperate control." Yes, that's it. And solutions will suddenly pop into your head when you're doing something else and not thinking about the problem.
“I decided to pack a copy of The New Yorker instead to give my brain a little break from thinking.” I got a chuckle from this. I imagine you were thinking of something else—the topics of the articles. And maybe what George suggests happens in those cases—an idea from the reading lands in your story. And then you decide whether it belongs.
Right! I didn’t even realize the irony in my statement. Of course reading The New Yorker is an intellectual activity, but passive, compared to coming up with solutions to the problems in your own writing. In the end, I didn’t read, but did 20 laps in the pool, which totally cleared my mind :)
It’s amazing how a little break can spark creativity. I often find my best ideas come when I’m not trying too hard, like during a walk or reading something completely unrelated. Your approach to managing those aggressive thoughts and finding flow is really inspiring. It’s all about balance, isn’t it?
This Substack community truly is a treasure trove of insights. Keep sharing! :)
Love this question + response (and comments so far). I've been working on a novel off/on for a pretty long time. Like, a decade. I spent the first few years applying all sorts of aggressive thinking, but then parenting/career stuff changed my schedule significantly. I didn't have the time to keep writing the way I used to.
The passive thinking part took over just because I was living with the story for so long and becoming a different person (maturing?). My problem-solving approach changed too. I'd open the file and wonder about the deranged weirdo who created that particular draft.
Happy ending: the book is coming out in the spring. 😀 So, the problem might evolve into how to turn off the passive thinking.
[Not trying to plug, but sharing in case anyone is interested/curious. The book is called "Terminal Solstice" and the publisher is Turnstone Press in Winnipeg, Canada.]
Where will the book be available? I’m enjoying reading the work of others in class. I’m on a budget so the library is my first go to but if this is not an option I will go ahead and purchase a copy.
I don’t mind the plugs (hopefully no one is that irritated by it). But if you’d rather not plug your work here then connect with me on my Substack. I think you can navigate to it by clicking on my name here.
Anyway doing this adds a dimension to the group experience here (to me anyway). It would be great if we could keep a running list here though I’m not sure how this would work—I mean how or where would you put it? And add to it?
I appreciate the interest. 🙏 The book should be available starting in May 2025 via most online retailers like IndieBound, Amazon, etc.
I'm with you on the library as a first stop. Not sure if yours functions the same way, but I find that I can submit requests for my library to stock certain titles. I would imagine that helps bring attention to debuts (like mine!) from smaller publishers.
None. I do no off-the-page thinking. It's like the story doesn't exist unless I'm reading/seeing it on the page.
I'm very interested in this "passive" and "aggressive" notion of yours, George. And I think it's key to not only writing, but (once again) to life. We are not our thoughts--we are, as they say, "hearing" or "perceiving" thoughts without being the thinker of them. Our thoughts arise from god-knows-where. My thoughts are arising now as I write these words--like magic! And here I go, reading over the sentence i just now wrote to see where I might want to go next. "Aggressive" thoughts are creativity blockers (to me). They may serve a good purpose (and they are necessary, I think, when editing), but it seems to me that they simply block my usual no-thinking thoughts from arising freely. (Okay, I stopped writing just a moment ago, read over what I've written so far, edited it a bit for rhythm, and now i'm back, waiting on more thoughts to arise from the crazy ether that is my consciousness.) To me, this is the fantastic beauty of creating anything at all. You start out with a blankness and then--out of nowhere--something arises and exists. Getting my own head out of the way of those thoughts, the creative ones that simply appear if you allow them to do so, is the trick, I think. At least for first drafts.
Really no idea what I'm talking about. Blame my thoughts--i didn't think them!
I love this. Because for me, this off-the-page, living-with is what writing is, or more than half of it. I've been working - longer than I'll admit (the beginning was in the 80s as a chapter in a very long novel) on a story about a man who slashes his wife, and their 12 year old son runs for the doctor. This had been the bedrock all these years and I've told two, three separate stories about it. The latest is one I've been working on for about two years. And George's advice, to see if the story has anything more to tell me, kicked in. Twice. And of course the last time it said, Okay, what if the woman dies, or is dying, is not saved, or you think it's possible she is going to die. What then? Wow! Seems so simple, right? But I had a story where the characters were in a tangle over whether to blow the whistle on the guy, or the guy run off, or or or . . . all with the background of expectation that the woman was alive. So I yanked that rug right out from under the story. And got . . . tremendous excitement, and a new title, and . . . Stay tuned, I tell myself. Poke it. Pinch it. This is the fun part. Though I'm sure at the end someone will be grieving.
This process is life-saving for me. I'm old, haven't too much time. Lots of problems. And the life and lives in these stories keep me thinking, feeling, exploring all the avenues of what it means to be alive.
Great photos, George! Just as the Greek philosophers walked with their students to stimulate thought, I find movement quite helpful to get ideas flowing. I agree that nothing is real to the story until it is on the page (or at least in the ether after I typed it into the computer) - and that the sentences have a life that stimulates the next sentence and often calls for revision of previous sentences. But I am amazed how a thought will come to me seminally out of the blue while I'm not at my computer to shake up my story. In fact, the whole idea for and the first words of my story that I'm writing now came to me in a dream state and I wrote them down suddenly upon waking. I'm thinking aggressively at the computer - editing my thoughts and words as I write - and I'm thinking passively when I'm sleeping or walking or folding laundry.
It’s fascinating how movement and those quiet, everyday moments can spark the best ideas. It’s like our brains need those breaks to let creativity flow naturally. :)
However much I try to get my subconscious mind to develop stories, I find my conscious mind keeps butting in with ideas of its own. Sometimes I think so much about a story that I just never put pen to paper. Stories grow so big in my mind (through over-thinking) that I just don't know where to begin when it comes to writing them. It's that 'everything' versus 'something' thing that overwhelms me. I need to reduce my off-the-page thinking, but I'm not sure how to do it.
Steve, i hope you don't mind a suggestion. Try a prompt! Something with zero stakes! Something that just doesn't matter at all--and see what happens. Just let yourself launch in as soon as you read the prompt and then keep going with it. It's an exercise in allowing yourself to stop thinking. Just an idea! I'll go away now!
Mary didn’t say so, but she offers lots of great prompts through her Substack. She probably thought it was an issue to self-promote here, so I’ll suggest it.
I like that some of the Story Club members have Substacks that are helpful to writers. Though I haven’t posted responses to your prompts ( I am forcing myself to concentrate on my upcoming small [ok, micro] press publication of a YA novel and on revising the next novel), I have saved my favorites.
Stephen Dunn used to prompt students by giving them 3 or 4 random things to write about. He would say don't think about anything but getting those things into--in his case, the poem. But it can be done with prose as well. Whatever is obsessing you at the moment will get into your writing, no matter what you do. So maybe choose something random to write about, not thinking about your plans. See what you get. That is at least a beginning.
Yes, I've had this problem, too. I never can figure out why it happens with some stories and not others. My overthought stories turn into Grand Unified Theories of the universe and stop being stories at all.
Interesting that you think there are two, let's say, entities Steve: your subconscious mind and your conscious mind. Interesting because you set me wondering how do you know which is which?
Descartes' dictum comes to mind: "I think therefore I am." Mmm... apart from some of the other issues that may arise in considering this famed philosophical word string, might Rene be able to be with us here how might he handle questions like "Is thinking with my subconscious mind the same as thinking with my conscious mind?" or "Which is the truer me: the I am thinking subconsciously or the I am thinking consciously?" or "Could this duality be but a neat and tidy, convenient mental construction which actually has little relation the neuroscientific reality of the way our minds, in particular our creative writing minds, actually work?"
What I'm taking out of reading early posts into this thread (which as it happens on this occasion I'm, unusually, doing before reading what George has posted) is that our Western educational culture seems to have got us far too concerned about, somehow, writing 'correctly' and with 'cognisance' rather than actually just getting to put words out and seeing where the moving pencil, pen or typing finger takes us.
No real idea, as I started typing this, what was going to flow out onto the screen in the frame of the Reply box but here I am, signing off feeling a sense of satisfaction that I've been successful not just in getting some words out somewhat coherently but better still be able to enjoy the pure pleasure of writing. Thanks for the genial provocation!
Mary G's really is your go to... perhaps try "Where we are, we're spotting Flying Porkie Pies" as your prompt to launch, Helen-of-Troy-esque Launch Pad... and go with the flow of the Thousand Ship Stories that you find yourself, of a sudden, open to being taken to.
Just hit the keyboards, batter away regardless, and if you deem yourself to have written nought better than instantly delectably delete-able twonk, why do go on, to write ahead regardless... who knows, but that - impossibly as you might have justifiably thought - you might find yourself hankering towards organising your flight and accommodation out there due south of us, in Andalusia?
Thanks for the encouragement, Rob. Not sure about the Pork Pie prompt, but I'll certainly have a go at battering away at the keyboard to see where I end up.
Not sure where you are, living and posting, in to this Story Club World of ours.
Just in case you're outwith the Sovereign Sceptred Isle that lies across La Manche from France and the Continent of Europe and happen not to have familiariy with Cockney Rhyming Slang (definitely a People's Patois) reference to Porkie Pies implies Lies.
Guess what was in my mind in suggesting such, an admittedly arcane. prompt might have been pondering just how many lies we get told and how the perps seem never to get sanctioned... top of mind yesterday, here in the UK News, was probably the publication of the findings of the Public Inquiry in the Government's Handling if the Crisis that was, and who knows when, might coming upon us again. 230,000 deaths and not a Politician sanctioned other than, possibly, in the Court of Public Opinion.
Mmm... what goes on the minds of those who seeking and achieving Public Office, knowingly Tell Porkie Pies to get there and Continue to Tell Porkie Pies Barefaced as We, Electors, Cry? Hannibal Lector was a grant fictional study in Psychopathy (or do I mean Sociopathy?) as have, more recently, The Krays been.
If this further, elaborative comment, lands with you as a 'Consignment of Coals to Newcastle' please accept my apology. Now, you've got me thinking, just why would a Prime Minister - entirely fictive, of course - Party, Recidivistically, in Downing Street in Contradiction of the Law she had made? Such a thing would, in reality, never happen would it?
Yes! Cockney rhyming slang - now I get your drift. I'm a Lancashire lad, but I live in Spain. I still follow UK news though, and I wholeheartedly agree with your comments about the Public Inquiry into the handling of the covid crisis. Scandalous.
Hey Steve-- Something I find helpful is to get my ideas out of my head and onto the page, in a very informal way, just to see what I've got. Try making a list of possible scenes, in no particular order, just brainstorming, then transfer the ones you like best onto index cards, one scene per card; you can then put the cards in some kind of order, see how the story's working, add more scene cards to fill in gaps, as needed, prune others. Note how your main character(s) are changing (or not); where twists and/or reveals or reversals happen, if more are needed; what the overall arch of your story is and what scenes advance that story arch or not.
I hated index cards for school research papers (I'm old, pre-internet), but I love them for organizing longer projects. I'm of the firm belief that some organizing/planning, especially with longer, book-length works (a memoir; novel), can save you a lot of time wandering the desert, so to speak. It does not hurt one's imagination or creativity one bit, in my experience. Of course, as George says, the right way to write is whatever way works for you. Good luck, in any case.
I love the photo of you with Mr. Lincoln. Iconic. I am a walker of woods and beaches. I carry a small spiral notebook - just in case. Sometimes I sit and clear my mind before I go. When I'm quiet enough I ask a question. Then I go for a walk. At least 60% of the time, nothing but quiet is there. In that case, quiet is the answer. But I notice that when I sit down in the morning, there's a flow, a kind of response that shows up as I write. Other times, I scribble notes of the things that arise (yes, I would use that word). Rarely, do I see an insight that does more than deepen the story, but as it so happens, I had a walk like that yesterday. A character became much more important and that changes the whole second half of the novel. The insights led to more research, new scenes. It's exhilarating when that happens. It's like falling in love.
I had to laugh when you mention tryin to put something into a story for various imposed reasons like needing to preach about something or address a current event situation. That leads me astray so often. But I approach the questioner’s question the same way I try to approach life decisions as Mary says above, by being in the moment and letting thoughts and ideas float by instead of aggressively pursuing a course of action, the answers will come eventually, the next time I sit with the story or the next time I’m called to that situation again that requires a decision.
Yes, I'm also turned off by writing that seems to have a deliberate message/agenda. I read an award-winning poem recently that had a very upfront historical/environmental message, and while elegantly written, with nice detail and nature imagery, I couldn't help but feel like it was wagging its finger in my face. Definite turn-off. Then again, it did win an award.
I suppose there's a place for it if artists are to reflect society, comment upon it, give us a language to articulate it it. But it has to be done in a subtle way unless it is specifically for the purpose of commentary like the war poems in the 60s and 70s.
Yes, there are writers whom I admire a great deal who, I think, turn off that self-restraint at times and take us away from their novels into philosophical discussion which can be wonderful, or the opposite. Kingsolver did this in 'Unsheltered' and as much as I love Marilynne Robinson, I cannot always follow here rambling. But again, I am guilty too, and now am urging myself to be more vigilant.
What to do next when writing…a great series of thoughts about what one might go through and how to think about that – or not.
I wondered about George’s comment about “Sea Oak” and so pulled it out and read it in The New Yorker pages, which I have. In the story, a dead person, changed greatly from life, talks wonderfully, for our reading pleasure.
Sandwiched in with the story in the magazine is a short piece by Steven King, about the beauties of Maine in late Autumn, when everyone is gone but the local people and animals, the trees and leaves, the lake, and rocks like tombstones.
A crazed adventure featuring a dead person come alive, plus a meditation on life, change, and death. Joined together, a kind of accidental foreshadowing of “Lincoln in the Bardo.”
Wow... you've put 'Sea Oak' right in the centre stage of my go seek out and re-read list Ron and, for that matter, reading, for the first time the wordsmith of horror on the beauties of late fall in Maine. 👍
Yes indeed Ron. His 'On Writing' is a text I've enjoyed reading and giving as a secret Santa gift to friends in a local writing group. Never, I think, had the piece you've put up before me signposted.
Which sets me thinking, off in another direction: Bill Bryson, Appalachia, that Long Walk in the Woods? Now, I had it, but wherever did I put it... the old neatly sequence book shelving went West,long since, probably, coincidentally, about 1998 🚶♂️ 🌲🌲🌲🛣
In the passive vein - sometimes something will pop into my head, and I'll feel it fits somewhere. I try to write those down. They're usually good, and they're also volatile. If I don't write them down, they dissipate and I'll be left with regret when I return to the piece where it would have fit.
This is how it works for me too. I rarely intentionally write away from my desk, but instead, I'll have been thinking about the characters and a little idea or snippet of dialogue or scene will bubble up from nowhere while I'm doing something else.
I have a notes app that I will drop them into, and then let them mentally simmer. After a while, I'll bring them back into my actual work sandbox and see if they gel. Half the time they usually don't, but you're right - I'd be regretful if I didn't write them all down when they did come to me.
Solutions often come when I'm reading for pleasure. I'll read a word or phrase and something just clicks into place about my own story even though there's no direct relation in plot or prose. I think, for me, reading loosens set ideas and shakes up the marbles, so to speak.
Thank you so much for this interesting discussion.
I am a firm believer in the value of 'off page thinking'. Every writing day I begin with a ten-minute session of free writing, wich I consider a sort of 'off page thinking'. With no preconceived idea, no goal, no concept or starting question, I write two pages full. Literally from word to word, sentence to sentence. And each time it amazes me what it produces. As a warm-up, for the day ahead, like an athlete warms up his muscles, this works perfectly for me. If 'passive thinking' means thinking in a flow, without consequences and judgements, than this is 'passive thinking'.
Recently, on a summer evening, talking about 'off page thinking', I sat on my balcony watching a flock of swallows. An unprecedented spectacle. From my position, a fourth-floor balcony, I was pretty much at eye level with the swallows. They were so absorbed in their acrobatic game that at times they came so close that I could hear and feel their air movement. I could see their little eyes. I couldn't resist to try to identify with them. The ease with which these birds fly, the speed and maneuverability with which they move, shows a talent unattainable for us. Not only do we fall tremendously short physically, such blood-curdling surrender to the moment does not fit into our rational lifestyle.
If I could, I would join them. As the birds flew in a more or less fixed formation, I imagine they do this without any necessity except that it is just fantastic to fly. Enviable and for me one of those moments when the concept that humans would be the crowning glory of creation is hugely challenged.
Isn't this what it's all about when we talk about, to stay in the terminology used here, the 'passive' versus the 'aggressive thinking'?
Somewhere in evolution, mankind chose for the conscious, instead of the subconsious, and have continued to develop it. We have become narrative and, above all, explanatory, and thus increasingly, 'aggressive thinking' beings. Birds haven't. Somewhere along the evolutionairy road they chose to fly. And with the choice of flying, they simultaneously, and inevitably, chose for 'passive thinking'. The speed at which the spectacle was taking place around my balcony leaves the birds no room for 'aggressive thinking'. There is simply no time for thinking at all. Every thought, every distraction, every moment when they are not in the here and now, can be extremely dangerous. They cannot afford to ask themselves what they are doing. More or less similar to me, when I'm doing a free writing session. (Although the consequences for me are considerably less dramatic).
As far as I am concerned, there is no doubt. Only if we manage to choose for 'passive thinking', and play from time to time, and distance ourselves from the 'on page working' every now and then, we have a chance to fly.
And how will we manage to do that? I'm not sure, but for me it starts with watching birds fly.
Loved this question. I think about the writing quite a lot. As much time as I'm at the computer, if I'm in a pickle (some of it fits George's idea of aggressive thinking), especially. This thinking is quality control, way of understanding the book. While not writing, but walking somewhere, I think about a character motivation, or if a scene could go earlier? Is there a way to make that side character more integral? What would a hypothetical reader be expecting?
There's a lot of things that I notice when I'm thinking about the piece at a whole, that I don't get if I'm working on the middle of page 26 only. When I'm at the computer, my thoughts are on language choice, syntax, blah blah. I can do some of the thinking in between tasks so why wait until I'm at the computer.
I do more off the page thinking when I hit a lull, and it often comes to me at three in the morning when I awaken for my 15 minute mid-slumber break. I try to figure out why there's a dip in the energy, whether it's character related or just a story temporarily out of steam. Usually a serious cut, change or addendum is called for, and while the spectrum of choices can be overwhelming, I will eventually come up with a possible solution and will commit to it. If it doesn't work in practice, then the process begins again. But this whole question around the creative process is so fascinating, so variable and unique among us, the only thing we share is the wonder of it all, and the humbling admission we are all servants to its capricious nature.
15 minutes? My, aren't you lucky. ;) My mid-slumbar "speedbump" can last 3 hours, through dawn and the owls' bedtime hoos. On the bright side, I get a lot of reading done, sometimes a poem.
Sometimes I'm tempted to turn on the light and start reading, but that starts up all the engines and I'll be a few hours more from sleep. I write brief poems in my head sometimes, too.
I'll admit I have such difficulty with this. I read and want to believe what many writers say--that your subconscious mind works on the story and the right thing will come while you are walking the dog or dropping the kids at school or when you wake up at 3am. And while I do mull the story in my mind while I'm doing such things, I have never felt any breakthrough. My hope is that flow feeling George describes here comes after months/years of practice, because maybe I don't yet have a finely tuned sense of how a story "wants" or "rejects" my off the page ideas. Most all of my attempts to solve a story's problem or move the story forward feel, to my reading, a bit mechanical. The whole thing feels like I am trying too hard to be better than I am.
First you have to let go of that last line: trying too hard to be better than I am. Forget the I and the am, and fall in love with your story or your characters.
Missy, for me, when it feels like I'm trying, at writing, or life in general, it often means that I'm striving, not to be better than I am, but to be different than I am. I would suggest following your own instincts and intuitions, what works for you, focus on when it does work, when the feeling of flow comes, and maybe see how you got there.
I agree with George that “it might be the case that the ‘aggressive’ thinking is not ‘bad’ or ‘wrong’ at all, but exists to enable the ‘passive’ thinking that might eventually lead to a solution.” In fact, I think I’d go so far as to say aggressive, conscious thinking could well be necessary to push the problem into the unconscious mind. In one of his essays, Oliver Sacks recounts an experience the French mathematician Henri Poincaré had in 1880. For fifteen days Poincaré worked intensively on a complex mathematical problem, then his labors were interrupted by a lengthy trip, during which he forgot all about the problem—at least consciously. One day late in his trip, he stepped onto an omnibus and the solution to the problem popped into his head. This “sudden realization,” Poincaré wrote, was “a manifest sign of long, unconscious prior work.” This and other similar incidents in Poincaré’s life convinced the great mathematician that, as Sacks says,"There must be active and intense unconscious activity even during the period when a problem is lost to conscious thought, and the mind is empty or distracted with other things. This is not the dynamic or 'Freudian' unconscious, boiling with repressed fears and desires, nor the 'cognitive' unconscious, which enables one to drive a car or to utter a grammatical sentence with no conscious idea of how one does it. It is instead the incubation of hugely complex problems performed by an entire hidden, creative self." And this hidden, creative self is our wiser self. As Poincaré said, “The subliminal self . . . knows better how to divine than the conscious self, since it succeeds where that has failed. In a word, is not the subliminal self superior to the conscious self?” I agree. And I think the experience Poincaré describes is not unusual but actually something we all commonly experience. For example, we might spend an hour trying to remember the name of a song or a book or whatever, and come up empty, but then some time later, while we’re just walking down the street or opening a refrigerator and not consciously thinking about the problem anymore, the answer pops into our head. I think Einstein sums up creative process well: “I think 99 times and find nothing. I stop thinking, swim in silence, and the truth comes to me.”
I love the value you ascribe to consciously wrestling with a problem. Yes, it might be our subconscious that ultimately formulates the solution, but we need to think through multiple scenarios, facts, issues, etc. before we have enough material to generate that "aha" moment.
Bethany, agree with you.
I do wonder, do you think there are specific techniques or practices that can help us effectively feed the subconscious with the right material to work on, improving our chances for those "aha" moments? 🤔
I feel like just wrestling with the material is probably tactic enough. I think the connection between conscious and unconscious mind is probably too mysterious for there to be a tried-and-true technique. But I also have not taken a formal writing class, so there very well could be methods I’m not aware of.
Valid points, thanks again Bethany!
Yes, we come up with solutions when we're done wrestling for solutions--when we drop the aggression. The answers, as many have said in these threads, pop into our head when we're distracted elsewhere. I think many of us have our best thoughts while driving or taking a shower--we are actively engaged elsewhere, leaving our thoughts to remain behind to percolate. Just yesterday, I forgot my (distant) cousin's name. I still haven't recovered it. But i know for certain that it will come to me at some point, seemingly out of nowhere.
my solutions / forgotten names / best thoughts seem to come between 4:30-5 AM ;)
Snap!
David, I am so excited about your Words Made Flash: The Craft of Fiction. Pre-ordered. You are a master in your own league, sir. And thank you for this comment!
One theme I’ve noticed in George’s writing advice is to cultivate a sense of gentle playfulness towards your writing process.
I really like this advice because:
• It emphasizes that writing comes from a place of joy and kindness.
• It is generally good advice to live a mindful life.
• It lets us in on how we can give our subconscious a window into our work, by sitting down and working, but also leaving room for the muse to play.
David, that’s a fascinating perspective!
How do you think we can cultivate this balance between aggressive conscious thinking and allowing space for our unconscious mind to work, especially in a world that often emphasizes constant productivity?
I don't know of any shortcuts to productivity. But there is one thing we can do to give our unconscious mind as much time as it needs to do its work: do our best not to think about what we're writing when we're not at our writing desk. The aggressive conscious thinking we do while we're writing pushes the story and all the questions we're trying to answer and all the problems we're trying to solve into our unconscious. Not thinking about the story when you're away from the desk is very hard to do, but I believe it's essential. As Andre Dubus said, "I try not to think where a story will go. This is as hard as writing, maybe harder; I spend most of my waking time doing it; it is hard work, because I want to know what the story will do and how it will end and whether or not I can write it; but I must not know, or I will kill the story by controlling it."
Yes, one of Ray Bradbury's maxims was (outside of writing): "Don't think." The process described here might be the reverse: Aggressive conscious thinking brings, or makes, everything up-front, which disperses the natural creative process, normally reserved for the page or screen. Going into it consciously, away from the page, breaks apart the threads of connectivity - in a research group of which I'm a part, this is called "junk think."
Well said David, especially the part on "but I must not know, or I will kill the story by controlling it."
Thank you!
The timing of this post is interesting. It popped up on my screen shortly after I had made the decision to stop writing and go to the pool. I was debating whether I should bring my notebook with me and my map of scenes. I decided to pack a copy of The New Yorker instead to give my brain a little break from thinking. But I suspect that it will carry on thinking about the story even when I read The New Yorker, in that subconscious, passive way. I actually get my best writing ideas when I give my brain a break and read for pleasure, or even do something as simple as take a pee break. Like Mary, my aggressive thoughts tend to be unhelpful. They are the bully that attempts to block the creative process. Usually out of fear, which is understandable. But in my creative practice solutions come from a state of flow and letting go, rather than desperate control. The challenge is - how do I get myself there? I remind myself that no one will die from my bad writing, I take long walks, exercise, practice yoga and meditation and make sure to fill my well. I continue to admire the honesty with which you write about your writing process! It’s very inspiring. And this community has always so many interesting things to say. Love it here
"solutions come from a state of flow and letting go, rather than desperate control." Yes, that's it. And solutions will suddenly pop into your head when you're doing something else and not thinking about the problem.
That is exactly my experience Mary! But I know you get it :)
“I decided to pack a copy of The New Yorker instead to give my brain a little break from thinking.” I got a chuckle from this. I imagine you were thinking of something else—the topics of the articles. And maybe what George suggests happens in those cases—an idea from the reading lands in your story. And then you decide whether it belongs.
Right! I didn’t even realize the irony in my statement. Of course reading The New Yorker is an intellectual activity, but passive, compared to coming up with solutions to the problems in your own writing. In the end, I didn’t read, but did 20 laps in the pool, which totally cleared my mind :)
Excellent choice!
Ha, Imola-That's such a relatable struggle!
It’s amazing how a little break can spark creativity. I often find my best ideas come when I’m not trying too hard, like during a walk or reading something completely unrelated. Your approach to managing those aggressive thoughts and finding flow is really inspiring. It’s all about balance, isn’t it?
This Substack community truly is a treasure trove of insights. Keep sharing! :)
Yes! I feel the same way about the Substack community. And I usually get my best ideas on my pee break :))
Love this question + response (and comments so far). I've been working on a novel off/on for a pretty long time. Like, a decade. I spent the first few years applying all sorts of aggressive thinking, but then parenting/career stuff changed my schedule significantly. I didn't have the time to keep writing the way I used to.
The passive thinking part took over just because I was living with the story for so long and becoming a different person (maturing?). My problem-solving approach changed too. I'd open the file and wonder about the deranged weirdo who created that particular draft.
Happy ending: the book is coming out in the spring. 😀 So, the problem might evolve into how to turn off the passive thinking.
[Not trying to plug, but sharing in case anyone is interested/curious. The book is called "Terminal Solstice" and the publisher is Turnstone Press in Winnipeg, Canada.]
Congrats! I agree that very long-term projects evolve with the writer.
Where will the book be available? I’m enjoying reading the work of others in class. I’m on a budget so the library is my first go to but if this is not an option I will go ahead and purchase a copy.
I don’t mind the plugs (hopefully no one is that irritated by it). But if you’d rather not plug your work here then connect with me on my Substack. I think you can navigate to it by clicking on my name here.
Anyway doing this adds a dimension to the group experience here (to me anyway). It would be great if we could keep a running list here though I’m not sure how this would work—I mean how or where would you put it? And add to it?
I appreciate the interest. 🙏 The book should be available starting in May 2025 via most online retailers like IndieBound, Amazon, etc.
I'm with you on the library as a first stop. Not sure if yours functions the same way, but I find that I can submit requests for my library to stock certain titles. I would imagine that helps bring attention to debuts (like mine!) from smaller publishers.
Yay! We are interested, it turns out!
Fantastic! Congratulations!
None. I do no off-the-page thinking. It's like the story doesn't exist unless I'm reading/seeing it on the page.
I'm very interested in this "passive" and "aggressive" notion of yours, George. And I think it's key to not only writing, but (once again) to life. We are not our thoughts--we are, as they say, "hearing" or "perceiving" thoughts without being the thinker of them. Our thoughts arise from god-knows-where. My thoughts are arising now as I write these words--like magic! And here I go, reading over the sentence i just now wrote to see where I might want to go next. "Aggressive" thoughts are creativity blockers (to me). They may serve a good purpose (and they are necessary, I think, when editing), but it seems to me that they simply block my usual no-thinking thoughts from arising freely. (Okay, I stopped writing just a moment ago, read over what I've written so far, edited it a bit for rhythm, and now i'm back, waiting on more thoughts to arise from the crazy ether that is my consciousness.) To me, this is the fantastic beauty of creating anything at all. You start out with a blankness and then--out of nowhere--something arises and exists. Getting my own head out of the way of those thoughts, the creative ones that simply appear if you allow them to do so, is the trick, I think. At least for first drafts.
Really no idea what I'm talking about. Blame my thoughts--i didn't think them!
What - or Who did think them, Mary G?
That's the million dollar question, Sallie.
Your muse.
I love this. Because for me, this off-the-page, living-with is what writing is, or more than half of it. I've been working - longer than I'll admit (the beginning was in the 80s as a chapter in a very long novel) on a story about a man who slashes his wife, and their 12 year old son runs for the doctor. This had been the bedrock all these years and I've told two, three separate stories about it. The latest is one I've been working on for about two years. And George's advice, to see if the story has anything more to tell me, kicked in. Twice. And of course the last time it said, Okay, what if the woman dies, or is dying, is not saved, or you think it's possible she is going to die. What then? Wow! Seems so simple, right? But I had a story where the characters were in a tangle over whether to blow the whistle on the guy, or the guy run off, or or or . . . all with the background of expectation that the woman was alive. So I yanked that rug right out from under the story. And got . . . tremendous excitement, and a new title, and . . . Stay tuned, I tell myself. Poke it. Pinch it. This is the fun part. Though I'm sure at the end someone will be grieving.
I must say that your dedication to your story is truly impressive.
This process is life-saving for me. I'm old, haven't too much time. Lots of problems. And the life and lives in these stories keep me thinking, feeling, exploring all the avenues of what it means to be alive.
Great photos, George! Just as the Greek philosophers walked with their students to stimulate thought, I find movement quite helpful to get ideas flowing. I agree that nothing is real to the story until it is on the page (or at least in the ether after I typed it into the computer) - and that the sentences have a life that stimulates the next sentence and often calls for revision of previous sentences. But I am amazed how a thought will come to me seminally out of the blue while I'm not at my computer to shake up my story. In fact, the whole idea for and the first words of my story that I'm writing now came to me in a dream state and I wrote them down suddenly upon waking. I'm thinking aggressively at the computer - editing my thoughts and words as I write - and I'm thinking passively when I'm sleeping or walking or folding laundry.
Lisa, your experience really resonates with me!
It’s fascinating how movement and those quiet, everyday moments can spark the best ideas. It’s like our brains need those breaks to let creativity flow naturally. :)
However much I try to get my subconscious mind to develop stories, I find my conscious mind keeps butting in with ideas of its own. Sometimes I think so much about a story that I just never put pen to paper. Stories grow so big in my mind (through over-thinking) that I just don't know where to begin when it comes to writing them. It's that 'everything' versus 'something' thing that overwhelms me. I need to reduce my off-the-page thinking, but I'm not sure how to do it.
Steve, i hope you don't mind a suggestion. Try a prompt! Something with zero stakes! Something that just doesn't matter at all--and see what happens. Just let yourself launch in as soon as you read the prompt and then keep going with it. It's an exercise in allowing yourself to stop thinking. Just an idea! I'll go away now!
Mary didn’t say so, but she offers lots of great prompts through her Substack. She probably thought it was an issue to self-promote here, so I’ll suggest it.
I'll second this! Mary's prompts are a great antidote to overthinking. Though I haven't yet tried turning any of them into full stories.
Thank you, Victoria! I've mentioned my substack once or twice, but always feel weird doing it.
I like that some of the Story Club members have Substacks that are helpful to writers. Though I haven’t posted responses to your prompts ( I am forcing myself to concentrate on my upcoming small [ok, micro] press publication of a YA novel and on revising the next novel), I have saved my favorites.
Happy to hear all of this!
I'll do that tomorrow. See what happens. Thanks, Mary.
Stephen Dunn used to prompt students by giving them 3 or 4 random things to write about. He would say don't think about anything but getting those things into--in his case, the poem. But it can be done with prose as well. Whatever is obsessing you at the moment will get into your writing, no matter what you do. So maybe choose something random to write about, not thinking about your plans. See what you get. That is at least a beginning.
That's smart, I will try that Roberta.
Yes, I've had this problem, too. I never can figure out why it happens with some stories and not others. My overthought stories turn into Grand Unified Theories of the universe and stop being stories at all.
Interesting that you think there are two, let's say, entities Steve: your subconscious mind and your conscious mind. Interesting because you set me wondering how do you know which is which?
Descartes' dictum comes to mind: "I think therefore I am." Mmm... apart from some of the other issues that may arise in considering this famed philosophical word string, might Rene be able to be with us here how might he handle questions like "Is thinking with my subconscious mind the same as thinking with my conscious mind?" or "Which is the truer me: the I am thinking subconsciously or the I am thinking consciously?" or "Could this duality be but a neat and tidy, convenient mental construction which actually has little relation the neuroscientific reality of the way our minds, in particular our creative writing minds, actually work?"
What I'm taking out of reading early posts into this thread (which as it happens on this occasion I'm, unusually, doing before reading what George has posted) is that our Western educational culture seems to have got us far too concerned about, somehow, writing 'correctly' and with 'cognisance' rather than actually just getting to put words out and seeing where the moving pencil, pen or typing finger takes us.
No real idea, as I started typing this, what was going to flow out onto the screen in the frame of the Reply box but here I am, signing off feeling a sense of satisfaction that I've been successful not just in getting some words out somewhat coherently but better still be able to enjoy the pure pleasure of writing. Thanks for the genial provocation!
Thanks for the 'Like' Steve.
Mary G's really is your go to... perhaps try "Where we are, we're spotting Flying Porkie Pies" as your prompt to launch, Helen-of-Troy-esque Launch Pad... and go with the flow of the Thousand Ship Stories that you find yourself, of a sudden, open to being taken to.
Just hit the keyboards, batter away regardless, and if you deem yourself to have written nought better than instantly delectably delete-able twonk, why do go on, to write ahead regardless... who knows, but that - impossibly as you might have justifiably thought - you might find yourself hankering towards organising your flight and accommodation out there due south of us, in Andalusia?
Thanks for the encouragement, Rob. Not sure about the Pork Pie prompt, but I'll certainly have a go at battering away at the keyboard to see where I end up.
Not sure where you are, living and posting, in to this Story Club World of ours.
Just in case you're outwith the Sovereign Sceptred Isle that lies across La Manche from France and the Continent of Europe and happen not to have familiariy with Cockney Rhyming Slang (definitely a People's Patois) reference to Porkie Pies implies Lies.
Guess what was in my mind in suggesting such, an admittedly arcane. prompt might have been pondering just how many lies we get told and how the perps seem never to get sanctioned... top of mind yesterday, here in the UK News, was probably the publication of the findings of the Public Inquiry in the Government's Handling if the Crisis that was, and who knows when, might coming upon us again. 230,000 deaths and not a Politician sanctioned other than, possibly, in the Court of Public Opinion.
Mmm... what goes on the minds of those who seeking and achieving Public Office, knowingly Tell Porkie Pies to get there and Continue to Tell Porkie Pies Barefaced as We, Electors, Cry? Hannibal Lector was a grant fictional study in Psychopathy (or do I mean Sociopathy?) as have, more recently, The Krays been.
If this further, elaborative comment, lands with you as a 'Consignment of Coals to Newcastle' please accept my apology. Now, you've got me thinking, just why would a Prime Minister - entirely fictive, of course - Party, Recidivistically, in Downing Street in Contradiction of the Law she had made? Such a thing would, in reality, never happen would it?
😎😎 Capiche?
Yes! Cockney rhyming slang - now I get your drift. I'm a Lancashire lad, but I live in Spain. I still follow UK news though, and I wholeheartedly agree with your comments about the Public Inquiry into the handling of the covid crisis. Scandalous.
Hey Steve-- Something I find helpful is to get my ideas out of my head and onto the page, in a very informal way, just to see what I've got. Try making a list of possible scenes, in no particular order, just brainstorming, then transfer the ones you like best onto index cards, one scene per card; you can then put the cards in some kind of order, see how the story's working, add more scene cards to fill in gaps, as needed, prune others. Note how your main character(s) are changing (or not); where twists and/or reveals or reversals happen, if more are needed; what the overall arch of your story is and what scenes advance that story arch or not.
I hated index cards for school research papers (I'm old, pre-internet), but I love them for organizing longer projects. I'm of the firm belief that some organizing/planning, especially with longer, book-length works (a memoir; novel), can save you a lot of time wandering the desert, so to speak. It does not hurt one's imagination or creativity one bit, in my experience. Of course, as George says, the right way to write is whatever way works for you. Good luck, in any case.
Thanks, Pips. That's great advice. I'm also pre-internet, so nothing against index cards.
I love the photo of you with Mr. Lincoln. Iconic. I am a walker of woods and beaches. I carry a small spiral notebook - just in case. Sometimes I sit and clear my mind before I go. When I'm quiet enough I ask a question. Then I go for a walk. At least 60% of the time, nothing but quiet is there. In that case, quiet is the answer. But I notice that when I sit down in the morning, there's a flow, a kind of response that shows up as I write. Other times, I scribble notes of the things that arise (yes, I would use that word). Rarely, do I see an insight that does more than deepen the story, but as it so happens, I had a walk like that yesterday. A character became much more important and that changes the whole second half of the novel. The insights led to more research, new scenes. It's exhilarating when that happens. It's like falling in love.
I had to laugh when you mention tryin to put something into a story for various imposed reasons like needing to preach about something or address a current event situation. That leads me astray so often. But I approach the questioner’s question the same way I try to approach life decisions as Mary says above, by being in the moment and letting thoughts and ideas float by instead of aggressively pursuing a course of action, the answers will come eventually, the next time I sit with the story or the next time I’m called to that situation again that requires a decision.
Yes, I'm also turned off by writing that seems to have a deliberate message/agenda. I read an award-winning poem recently that had a very upfront historical/environmental message, and while elegantly written, with nice detail and nature imagery, I couldn't help but feel like it was wagging its finger in my face. Definite turn-off. Then again, it did win an award.
I suppose there's a place for it if artists are to reflect society, comment upon it, give us a language to articulate it it. But it has to be done in a subtle way unless it is specifically for the purpose of commentary like the war poems in the 60s and 70s.
I agree Sharon, that was what jumped out to me as well - seeing some writing (as George said) as a "vehicle" for something. Gets in my way every time!
Yes, there are writers whom I admire a great deal who, I think, turn off that self-restraint at times and take us away from their novels into philosophical discussion which can be wonderful, or the opposite. Kingsolver did this in 'Unsheltered' and as much as I love Marilynne Robinson, I cannot always follow here rambling. But again, I am guilty too, and now am urging myself to be more vigilant.
What to do next when writing…a great series of thoughts about what one might go through and how to think about that – or not.
I wondered about George’s comment about “Sea Oak” and so pulled it out and read it in The New Yorker pages, which I have. In the story, a dead person, changed greatly from life, talks wonderfully, for our reading pleasure.
Sandwiched in with the story in the magazine is a short piece by Steven King, about the beauties of Maine in late Autumn, when everyone is gone but the local people and animals, the trees and leaves, the lake, and rocks like tombstones.
A crazed adventure featuring a dead person come alive, plus a meditation on life, change, and death. Joined together, a kind of accidental foreshadowing of “Lincoln in the Bardo.”
Wow... you've put 'Sea Oak' right in the centre stage of my go seek out and re-read list Ron and, for that matter, reading, for the first time the wordsmith of horror on the beauties of late fall in Maine. 👍
Everyone now knows that he is much more than a wordsmith of horror, but these were written a quarter century ago...
Yes indeed Ron. His 'On Writing' is a text I've enjoyed reading and giving as a secret Santa gift to friends in a local writing group. Never, I think, had the piece you've put up before me signposted.
Which sets me thinking, off in another direction: Bill Bryson, Appalachia, that Long Walk in the Woods? Now, I had it, but wherever did I put it... the old neatly sequence book shelving went West,long since, probably, coincidentally, about 1998 🚶♂️ 🌲🌲🌲🛣
In the passive vein - sometimes something will pop into my head, and I'll feel it fits somewhere. I try to write those down. They're usually good, and they're also volatile. If I don't write them down, they dissipate and I'll be left with regret when I return to the piece where it would have fit.
This is how it works for me too. I rarely intentionally write away from my desk, but instead, I'll have been thinking about the characters and a little idea or snippet of dialogue or scene will bubble up from nowhere while I'm doing something else.
I have a notes app that I will drop them into, and then let them mentally simmer. After a while, I'll bring them back into my actual work sandbox and see if they gel. Half the time they usually don't, but you're right - I'd be regretful if I didn't write them all down when they did come to me.
I need to write those down, too. George seems to be able to hang onto them. A memory skill I wish I had!
Solutions often come when I'm reading for pleasure. I'll read a word or phrase and something just clicks into place about my own story even though there's no direct relation in plot or prose. I think, for me, reading loosens set ideas and shakes up the marbles, so to speak.
Yes, this happens to me too, all of the time.
A plea for 'off page thinking'.
Thank you so much for this interesting discussion.
I am a firm believer in the value of 'off page thinking'. Every writing day I begin with a ten-minute session of free writing, wich I consider a sort of 'off page thinking'. With no preconceived idea, no goal, no concept or starting question, I write two pages full. Literally from word to word, sentence to sentence. And each time it amazes me what it produces. As a warm-up, for the day ahead, like an athlete warms up his muscles, this works perfectly for me. If 'passive thinking' means thinking in a flow, without consequences and judgements, than this is 'passive thinking'.
Recently, on a summer evening, talking about 'off page thinking', I sat on my balcony watching a flock of swallows. An unprecedented spectacle. From my position, a fourth-floor balcony, I was pretty much at eye level with the swallows. They were so absorbed in their acrobatic game that at times they came so close that I could hear and feel their air movement. I could see their little eyes. I couldn't resist to try to identify with them. The ease with which these birds fly, the speed and maneuverability with which they move, shows a talent unattainable for us. Not only do we fall tremendously short physically, such blood-curdling surrender to the moment does not fit into our rational lifestyle.
If I could, I would join them. As the birds flew in a more or less fixed formation, I imagine they do this without any necessity except that it is just fantastic to fly. Enviable and for me one of those moments when the concept that humans would be the crowning glory of creation is hugely challenged.
Isn't this what it's all about when we talk about, to stay in the terminology used here, the 'passive' versus the 'aggressive thinking'?
Somewhere in evolution, mankind chose for the conscious, instead of the subconsious, and have continued to develop it. We have become narrative and, above all, explanatory, and thus increasingly, 'aggressive thinking' beings. Birds haven't. Somewhere along the evolutionairy road they chose to fly. And with the choice of flying, they simultaneously, and inevitably, chose for 'passive thinking'. The speed at which the spectacle was taking place around my balcony leaves the birds no room for 'aggressive thinking'. There is simply no time for thinking at all. Every thought, every distraction, every moment when they are not in the here and now, can be extremely dangerous. They cannot afford to ask themselves what they are doing. More or less similar to me, when I'm doing a free writing session. (Although the consequences for me are considerably less dramatic).
As far as I am concerned, there is no doubt. Only if we manage to choose for 'passive thinking', and play from time to time, and distance ourselves from the 'on page working' every now and then, we have a chance to fly.
And how will we manage to do that? I'm not sure, but for me it starts with watching birds fly.
I think your experience with the swallows would make a lovely poem, if you're so inclined, especially your description of them in flight.
Loved this question. I think about the writing quite a lot. As much time as I'm at the computer, if I'm in a pickle (some of it fits George's idea of aggressive thinking), especially. This thinking is quality control, way of understanding the book. While not writing, but walking somewhere, I think about a character motivation, or if a scene could go earlier? Is there a way to make that side character more integral? What would a hypothetical reader be expecting?
There's a lot of things that I notice when I'm thinking about the piece at a whole, that I don't get if I'm working on the middle of page 26 only. When I'm at the computer, my thoughts are on language choice, syntax, blah blah. I can do some of the thinking in between tasks so why wait until I'm at the computer.
Such a great topic.
I do more off the page thinking when I hit a lull, and it often comes to me at three in the morning when I awaken for my 15 minute mid-slumber break. I try to figure out why there's a dip in the energy, whether it's character related or just a story temporarily out of steam. Usually a serious cut, change or addendum is called for, and while the spectrum of choices can be overwhelming, I will eventually come up with a possible solution and will commit to it. If it doesn't work in practice, then the process begins again. But this whole question around the creative process is so fascinating, so variable and unique among us, the only thing we share is the wonder of it all, and the humbling admission we are all servants to its capricious nature.
15 minutes? My, aren't you lucky. ;) My mid-slumbar "speedbump" can last 3 hours, through dawn and the owls' bedtime hoos. On the bright side, I get a lot of reading done, sometimes a poem.
Sometimes I'm tempted to turn on the light and start reading, but that starts up all the engines and I'll be a few hours more from sleep. I write brief poems in my head sometimes, too.
I'll admit I have such difficulty with this. I read and want to believe what many writers say--that your subconscious mind works on the story and the right thing will come while you are walking the dog or dropping the kids at school or when you wake up at 3am. And while I do mull the story in my mind while I'm doing such things, I have never felt any breakthrough. My hope is that flow feeling George describes here comes after months/years of practice, because maybe I don't yet have a finely tuned sense of how a story "wants" or "rejects" my off the page ideas. Most all of my attempts to solve a story's problem or move the story forward feel, to my reading, a bit mechanical. The whole thing feels like I am trying too hard to be better than I am.
First you have to let go of that last line: trying too hard to be better than I am. Forget the I and the am, and fall in love with your story or your characters.
Gosh, thanks for the great perspective.
Missy, for me, when it feels like I'm trying, at writing, or life in general, it often means that I'm striving, not to be better than I am, but to be different than I am. I would suggest following your own instincts and intuitions, what works for you, focus on when it does work, when the feeling of flow comes, and maybe see how you got there.
That is so very helpful, thank you, Sharon. A great insight.