Ease & Flow

Or when to tell your mind to take a hike

Photo by Sharon Pittaway on Unsplash

I’m a thinker. I’m a figure-outer. I’m a problem solver. My brain loves a challenge. I’m that annoying friend that you just wanted to vent to and is instead lobbing all sorts of solutions you never asked for at ninety miles an hour. Coming up with answers is my default setting. Thing is, it’s super helpful when doing the crossword and super annoying when I’m trying to support someone through a difficult time.

You know when it’s also really not helpful? Writing.

I didn’t always think this. In fact, I thought it was one of my greatest assets as a storyteller for a long time. Give me a premise or a character and I’ll always figure something out.

That’s the thing, though. Great writing? The magic stuff? It’s not usually born from logic and critical thinking. It’s not something to ‘figure out’.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that my problem solving skills aren’t helpful when I write, they are, but what I’ve learned is… there is a time and a place for them.

I’ve got two parts of me that show up when I write: the rational part and the creative part. The mind and the heart. Sometimes, the mind tricks me into believing it’s the heart because it’s slinging ideas at me left and right, “What about this? Or this? Wouldn’t it be cool if this?” However, the ideas that the mind comes up with… they might be good, they might be great even, but… they’re not… special. They’re not that thing that I’m after. They aren’t what get people excited.

It’s the heart that I want generating my work. It’s unexpected, it’s one of a kind, it’s me.

This is going to sound cheesy, but I think it’s kind of like a dance. Both the mind and heart are key to creating something, but the heart leads and the mind follows. The heart creates, the mind edits. When it’s the other way around, you end up with uninspired work. It could be technically great and yet when people read it you can tell it’s missing something. No sparkle.

Okay, so lead with the heart. Save the mind for later. How does one do that?

Separate the process from the outcome.

Easier said then done, I know. However, when I’m not focused on an outcome, I’m less likely to self edit and more likely to let myself be free - self editing before I write or while I write is like strangling a garden hose.  It’s letting the mind creep in on the heart’s stage time. Let the heart do it’s thing first. Get it out. Don’t care if it’s good or bad.

This is what I consider writing with ease and flow.

Once I stop my mind from interfering in the process, I let it all come - good and bad and mediocre and weird and funny and stupid and… all of it. Then, when I’ve reached a stopping point, that’s when I invite the mind back to edit. 

Make a conscious distinction between creating and editing. 

Editing happens AFTER creating.  Not before.  Not during.  (by ‘editing,’ I include any sort of critique or evaluation). I’ve found when I try to do these two things simultaneously I’m stopping the magic before it can even get started.

So, what does this look like, practically?

• Like I mentioned in my last post, I consciously slow down and ground myself in the moment before I start writing.

• Then, in a separate document, I just… let it rip.  I write without a goal or objective for a few minutes (like 10 or 15) just getting thoughts out. I explore and see what comes. This helps me get into a mode of writing that is more focused on the process than the desired outcome.

After that, I feel calm and open and I’ve got my best shot of getting my heart to come out and play. It doesn’t always work. In fact, there’s lots of times this doesn’t work. And I have thoughts on that too. More to come…