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You Can’t Write While You’re Running.
Writing takes focus; it’s not compatible with errand-hopping.
Take heart, dear reader. Neither you nor anyone else can write on the run, literally or figuratively. You can record the tidbits of your brilliant idea into your phone or scratch them in Notes only later to decipher what you thought you meant. It’s hard to do it on the fly. Seasoned pros have the chops to capture the big idea in a few cryptic words, but for the rest of us?
Writing requires full brain engagement. It requires focus.
We’ve all been there: rushing around to attend to the listicles of life’s errands and distracted by attention-demanding tasks when Boom! Out of nowhere, inspiration strikes.
These flashes of brilliance often announce themselves at inopportune times, like while my body and consciousness are at the wheel of a moving car. I’ll randomly unearth a topic that has escaped scrutiny and realize I know more about it and can speak with more authority than others. Or, I’ll stumble over a clever turn of phrase or a sharp-edged quip that might knock ’em dead.
The frustration is that as soon as the light bulb goes off, it can just as quickly go dark, and the train of thought is lost.
The Universe bestows unbidden gifts but you cannot dictate the terms.
Our subconscious habitually knocks at our creative door at the most unexpected times. “I was just thinking,” it says, indifferent to the situation yet teasing me with an inspired thought barely within my grasp. If only I weren’t driving.
I keep it in the frontal cortex. Well, I try to, anyway.
But often, by the time I can reel in the metaphorical prize fish, by voice or hand, something is lost. To mitigate against a frayed memory, I sometimes try to take quick notes at stop lights, inviting the irritation of the driver behind me, who honks a few seconds after the light changes.
Sorry for my inattention at the wheel, but creative lightning just struck. Excuse me while I try to stuff it into a bottle.
It’s a lame excuse for someone wanting to get through the intersection.
I can try mnemonic tricks to build “memory castles” and preserve an idea or train of thought. Sometimes, they work, and sometimes, well, not so much.
The silver lining is that these bolts from the blue can be the starter for the “new loaf” of creativity. Sometimes, only a wisp of an idea that surfaced while “on the run” remains. But it’s all that’s needed to start anew. The inspiration did not die in vain; it merely needed a fresh start.
Even the most skilled writer who can dash off a decent piece in less than an hour needs a dedicated half hour — a focused half hour. Writing is rarely done well, soup to nuts, on the run.
Writers know inspiration is a universal vexation. It is the blessing and curse of the creative process.
© 2024 Jane Trombley
