Carl Said
The System Connections
I took an unplanned writing break. One of those things called death interrupted the usual progression.
A family member died. It was expected, sooner or later. The sooner seemed to be getting closer but it came as a surprise. She’d been hospitalized with flu, pneumonia, congested heart and lungs, things complicated by her Parkinson’s disease. We were originally certain, this might be it, but that morning the doctors said, “Hey, she’s doing better. She can probably leave the hospital in two or three days.” They were wrong. She left that day, but she was no longer alive.
I shut down the writing component in my brain. I know this about myself: the writing component demands a lot of energy. It puts me in another place, but removes me from the moment. Being removed from the moment means that my patience and empathy become compromised. That wouldn’t do. So, shut it down, I ordered.
The writing component was kept shut down for three days. I was given writing time but chose not to indulge it. I knew what it would mean. I took the time to think of life and other matters instead of writing.
What I didn’t expect were the side-effects. I slept miserably, tossing and turning way more than the usual. I also didn’t dream, or didn’t recall any dreams, and I seemed a lot hungrier. I never felt rested.
I imagined the chemical and physiological reasons probably contributing to my side-effects. The drugs my body releases through the creative process and writing. The highs achieved, the flow of neurotransmitters and their interactions, and why writing is an addiction.
I kept the writing component off until today. Notifications of the death are completed. Grieving has commenced and progressed. Funeral and burial arrangements have been made.
When I turned the writing component back on, it was a deluge. Whoomp. I was slammed with words and thoughts to write.
Interesting experience. Fascinating, to me, at least. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
My Character & Me
It’s apparently spring in my novel, because I’m experiencing a revolt. No blood has yet spread across anything. I don’t think it will. We’re pretty civilized here. Civilized people don’t kill one another to get their way, except in fiction…right…?
The main character and I are wresting with what’s going on in the novel. He’s moving into this new direction. Heavily dependent on technology, he insists on exploring how the loss of personal technology influences his behavior. He has become mentally, physically, and emotionally weaker. Although he’s staying fit and slender, he’s aging, and his energy level is drooping. He does not have the level of control with which he’s accustomed to living.
But he’s not seeing that in his people. Without technology, individuality is sprouting. His people see and hear better than him. Many have higher energy levels. Some are becoming bullies. While bullying had been psychologically and socially influenced over the course of time from now until the future, and diminished through socializing, technology in their recent history, those safeguards and safeties were removed when their nanotechnologies were removed.
Other emerging trends among his force are disturbing him. Binge drinking is becoming a problem. Without their sexes and free of their technology, people are becoming sexually active. Promiscuity is flowering. That’s causing jealousies and attachments that can affect discipline, good order, and the chain of command.
These changes, and how this unit copes with it, is the story, he insists. That’s what he believes should be written. I disagree; I sought more of an adventure story. I add elements of adventure, threats, and conflicts to increase that sense of adventure, but he keeps dragging me into psycho-analysis.
I dreamed about this problem last night. In the dream I was a military member on shift again. I’d been lazy and hadn’t completed the shift checklist. Hell, I didn’t know where to find it. I hadn’t inventoried the COMSEC materials, read the log, closed out the last log for the Zulu day, nor started another one, and shift change was coming on fast.
Anxiety suffused me; WTF was I going to do?
Well, I started scrambling to make it right. But I was quickly sidetracked with my environment. It was disorganized, and poorly planned. I was appalled. Although I knew I was running out of time, organizing that place developed into my primary priority. Of course, once I did that, I developed a focus. Having a focus revitalized my energy level and determination, and wiped out my anxiety.
Pondering the dream this morning, I developed understanding that it wasn’t about my life, but the novel in progress. That bifurcation I experienced was causing anxiety because I didn’t know what the character was coming up with next. And, I’d developed him as a strong individual. I didn’t like seeing him losing his way.
Ah, hah, I understood, oh, there we go. This is about writing the novel in progress. My conflict with my character —
Let’s put this more correctly. The change of direction in the novel from my original intention bothers me. With that, I’ve lost focus and energy. Thinking about this – because I write to help me think – I think my character is correct.
I know from reading others that many writers wrestle with characters taking over. Some dismiss it; they’re the writer, they’re in control, and they decree what gets onto the pages. I live and work through my characters on the pages. We’re partners more than master and puppet. Perhaps it’s due to my organic writing style, which, on reflection, can look as complicated as layers of spider and cobwebs. And it’s not like I haven’t been down this path before. I often begin with an idea that grows into something else.
Although it makes me uncomfortable, I’ll probably write what the character wants. Then I’ll edit it down to find a compromise we can live with.
Characters; they can be the worse.
Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
The Air, the Fitbit, the Writing, the Dreams
Our outdoor air sucks. Need more?
Smoke from wildfires is filling our air. The Air Quality Index leaped to one hundred fifteen last night. DANGEROUS. It hasn’t been hot, only into the nineties. We open the house at night to cool it off, and then close the blinds and windows during the day. Opening the windows last night sent us into coughing fits as wet smoke smells wafted in. Eventually, we donned masks.
Today isn’t as bad. The A.Q.I. is in the fifties, and officially, moderate. Visibility remains down. It’s like a white-out beyond a a few hundred feet.
All this wildfire smoke has reduced my Fitbit activities. Walking is way down, to five miles a day average. It’s not as critical as many other issues resulting from wildfires. None of the fires are directly affecting our community. We feel for all those being evacuated in those areas, and appreciate the firefighters’ efforts. If this stuff is terrible for me, a guy in his early sixties who considers himself in good health, those with emphysema and other respiratory issues must be deeply suffering.
I took to the Orson Scott Card method for visualizing and organizing the novel in progress. O.S.C. talked about just drawing places, like a city, and then adding details. With each detail and area added or defined, entertain questions about why those areas and details exist. I’ve done this exercise before, with excellent results. I wasn’t disappointed this time.
I had been editing the novel’s first draft. Halfway through that process, I perceived a problem. A new ‘greater arc’ was required as the solution. I could be wrong, but this is how I decided to address the issue. It’s essentially an epic. I like epics. Bigger is better.
This was decided over a four day period. Then, after deciding it was necessary, I went on a reading sprint. I finished reading two novels, and read two others, in five days. I also read fiction stories and news articles online. This reading stimulated my writing juices and invigorated my writing dreams. I found myself re-committed to who I was, and what I was doing. It’s a matter of taking a deep breath, turning on the computer, and putting the ass in chair, and the fingers on a keyboard.
This new arc takes place on a planet where technology fails. An outpost is established using outdated technology. Suddenly, it’s like living in a frontier castle. I loved that difference in direction from my usual challenges of visualizing the far future and other intelligent races.
I drew the outpost on my computer, and brainstormed about how the lack of technology affects them, and solutions and work-arounds. The team living in the outpost are hunting for people, but can’t use their suits or vehicles. They fall back to horses. Having horses adds more problems and dimensions.
So do the powerful windstorms endured on the planet. That’s why the outpost becomes a castle; something stout enough to survive the windstorms are necessary. That’s the iceberg view of all the scenes, problems, and challenges realized. I don’t want to give away more. Drawing and brainstorming in this manner was a catalyst to my imagination. I scrambled to capture ideas an create an event timeline. It resulted in *shudder* an outline.
As an organic writer, the outline overwhelmed me. Suddenly, there it all was, this part of the novel mapped out in all its complications and key events. I could imagine, see, and hear them. Writing them was required. It’s daunting for an organic pantser. I decided I would scramble to write key scenes and moments, and patch them together with bridge and pivot scenes, and build the story in layers, much like I used to do when oil painting, or writing a business case, or analyzing data.
I think that whatever opened my creative floodgates also turned the dream valves to full open. I had six remembered dreams last night. Friends from my past were featured. My wife also made an appearance. Of course, maybe it was the eclipse opening the dream and creativity gates. Who can say?
Trying to capture details this morning diverted personal resources already earmarked for other activities. I resorted to dream summaries. The dreams were wild. Once again, my muses were prominently featured. They were attempting to guide and assist me in different manners. Sorting the chaos was a fascinating exercise.
Having your muses show up in my dreams injects high confidence levels. I felt empowered and emboldened when I awaken. Yet, being me, the confidence evaporates to more normal levels by midday. Having your muses and some higher beings populate your dreams and offer encouragement has a good thing. I’m certainly not going to kick them out.
Time to write like crazy, at least one more time. How about you, writers? Have you seen increased creativity? Maybe it is the eclipse.
Or maybe it’s the coffee.
Creativity
“Creativity is a combination of discipline and a child-like spirit.”
~ Robert Greene
The Flow
I’m in that writing flow, a preternatural existence where the writing process works exceptionally well for me. Permitting it to suck me in, I sit and read, edit, revise, and type. When I’m off the computer, I write in my head, making notes to myself. Sometimes I slip over to the computer, open the doc, make a few quick changes, and save it and close. I see the book as a completed whole. I feel its heft. Its shape fills my hands. I’m just refining the digital presence to match what I see and feel, what I know to be real.
Slipping back into the real world reminds me of being high. Colors are sharper and more vibrant. I feel more aware and in-tune, balanced and at peace. I think, I’m on a writing high, stoned on creativity. I’m sure there are some bio-chemical components released when I feel like this that reinforce the sensations, driving me to seek this experience again, itself developing into and generating a wheel of expectation.
Of course, it’s daunting and dismaying when that damn wheel tumbles over or freezes. If we’re good with coping with it, we develop approaches to fix it, oil the wheel and get it all turning again. Reading an two-year-old article posted to HuffPost, “Eighteen Things Highly Creative People Do Differently,” I’m surprised that I have all but three of these habits structured into my existence.
One area where I divert from those eighteen things is that I do like habits. I use habits to protect the creativity. Setting myself up to write at about the same time, with the same drink, at the same place, creates intentions and expectations for me, and frees me from others’ expectations for what’s going to happen during that time; they know I’ll be off writing. Then again, as the article suggests, I’m structuring my day to take advantage of my most creative and productive periods.
The second is that I’m not a risk-taker. I’ve taken risks, and I’ve broken bones, and gotten hurt and lost in all manner of ways. That, and my wife’s predisposition toward being cautious, has muted my risk-taking. Being honest with myself, though, I still have a huge self-confidence gap and remain insecure, another reason why I avoid risk-taking.
The other trait that I don’t do is surround myself with beauty, unless you can count my cats, wife and friends, and the natural beauty of southern Oregon that surrounds us.
In that HuffPost article, the author, Carolyn Gregoire, writes about the flow state that I wrote about, quoting Scott Barry Kaufman, who co-wrote a book about creativity. I didn’t know the flow state was actually a thing. I’d always known it existed, and that I can access it via deep thinking and concentration, not just in creative matters, but in other areas, too. It stands to reason that I’m not the first to experience it, but I’m embarrassed that I never sought more information about it.
Carolyn Gregoire and Scott Kaufman do a better job of describing the flow state than I did:
Creative types may find that when they’re writing, dancing, painting or expressing themselves in another way, they get “in the zone,” or what’s known as a flow state, which can help them to create at their highest level. Flow is a mental state when an individual transcends conscious thought to reach a heightened state of effortless concentration and calmness. When someone is in this state, they’re practically immune to any internal or external pressures and distractions that could hinder their performance.
You get into the flow state when you’re performing an activity you enjoy that you’re good at, but that also challenges you — as any good creative project does.
“[Creative people] have found the thing they love, but they’ve also built up the skill in it to be able to get into the flow state,” says Kaufman. “The flow state requires a match between your skill set and the task or activity you’re engaging in.”
The embedded link in Gregoire’s article will open an interesting TED Talk by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi about the flow state.
How about you, writers? Do you know this other-world experience in creating and being? Do you do these eighteen things like creatives do?
Reasonable Questions
Do they honestly expect a writer to sit and read books, stories and essays without being given time to write? Don’t they understand how days without writing curdles our souls, impoverishes our moods, and devastates our spirits, especially when they’ve given us books to read? “Here,” they whisper. “I loved this book. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
They’re right, but the pain. You hunger to rush away and find time alone with your muse. At least, freed, a flood words are released one more time. You pleasure to a little temporary relief but you know, it’s gonna happen again.
Writing & Creativity
Thinking about dreams, writing, creativity, food and sleep, I sought some outside input. Drifting into TED Talks, I found a presentation from 2009. Elizabeth Gilbert talks about creative minds and the different prevailing perception of creative people and their work. Part of this is are the dangerous assumptions that confront writers and other artists, and our anxieties and unmanageable expectations.
Michael Seidel, writer 