Writing In The Mind

Writing is hard. It's easier than it used to be in some practical respects. Typing on a computer is easier than a typewriter, and the typewriter represented a marked improvement over writing by hand (although I find that sometimes writing by hand is the only way). Of course, the mechanical process of writing down words is nothing compared to coming up with the words. The hardest part of writing, it's no shocker to say, happens in the brain.

I don't suppose that the process of writing is very interesting to watch happen. No really notable examples from film or television suggest themselves particularly, and perhaps for good reason. When I sit down to write, it's grim stuff. I get the computer going, open up the proper program, and then it gets tough. I lower my head and close my eyes. I rub my temples and do a lot breathing. It sort of sounds like yoga or that pregnancy preparation stuff, come to think of it.

I do stupid things to try and get ideas going, like reading news articles or going out for walks in hopes of seeing something or hearing something. That stuff doesn't really seem to work. That's all avoiding work and escaping the necessary process. The only thing that seems to work is to do what I often fear most: strip away all external distractions, and face up to my own thoughts. I have to push out everything and truly clear my head. An observer would think I'm ill at this stage.

After an indeterminate period of time doing this, my mind starts to wander and I might actually come up with an idea. It could take hours or minutes, but some amount of time spent virtually motionless while looking at and listening to nothing is vital. It's all about burrowing deep inside, I guess. I do worry for kids who are denied both arts education and any time to themselves for daydreaming or fooling around. Those two things are what make a creative mind.