Observed

Finding a needle in one of Monet's summer haystacks illustrates Cognitive Impenetrability. That's the struggle we have when our brains are asked to filter out the clutter of the ordinary in search of the extraordinary. Such as being able to create a good sentence in the midst of a relentless torrent of psychic, creative noise.

First, take a look at Writing Tip #4.

OK, now consider this one, where I wrote about how something might become harder to do the harder I try.  It introduces the theory of Cognitive Impenetrability.

That’s a way to describe how hard it is to find something when what we’re are looking for is rare.  For some reason, as radiologists and the TSA know, our ability to see it decreases.  Or, as Harvard prof Jeremy Wolfe says, “…if you don’t find it often, you often don’t find it.”

Same with writing a good sentence, especially when it’s the first thing on a blank page.  It’s like finding a lucid needle in the crowded and chaotic haystack of our brains.

The radiologist is trained to pause — one more time — before reporting that an x-ray is negative for cancer.  They effectively take a break.

That’s what I recommend writers do, too.

Even the most creative force in modern architecture admits to having little if any idea how he creates. Gehry seems to understand, however, that it helps to bring his fears out of Shadow and put them on the tip of his pen.

At the beginning of Sketches of Frank Gehry, the director, Sydney Pollock, asks the great architect a great question.

“Is starting hard?”

Gehry replies.

You know it is.  I don’t know what you do when you start, but I clean my desk.  I make a lot of stupid appointments that I make sound important.

Avoidance.  Delay.  Denial.

I’m always scared that I’m not going to know what to do.  It’s a terrifying moment.

And then, when I start, I’m always amazed.  ‘Oh, that wasn’t so bad.’

How true.

Next time you're stumped in a crossword, put your pencil (or pen) down and walk away. Forget about it. Come back in a few hours or days and you'll be amazed to see solutions where before you were stuck. Same with writing or, perhaps, just about anything else creative.

I rarely do my best writing when I’m trying to do too many things at once.  Or, when I’m too tired.  Plus, I know that the first thing I write is seldom the best I write.  Know what I mean?

Turns out that these observations follow a common thread…and have some science connecting them.

I re-discovered a great story that illustrates this.  Last summer, The New York Times reported about five neuroscientists who spent a week in late May 2010 in a remote area of southern Utah, rafting the San Juan River, camping on the soft banks and hiking the tributary canyons.

It was a primitive trip with a sophisticated goal: to understand how heavy use of digital devices and other technology changes how we think and behave, and how a retreat into nature might reverse those effects.

The five reached a rough consensus, agreeing more or less that heavy exposure to technology and other stimulation leaves less room in our brains for storing and integrating ideas.

So, do what I do.  When I get stuck in a crosswords puzzle, for example, I’m amazed how I can solve clues after I put the paper aside and come back to it way later.  Or, when I look at a draft of whatever I’m writing a day or two later…and often discover all sorts ways to make improvements.

Seth, BTW, may have tapped into something similar when he suggested that you get a fresh set of eyes to challenge whatever you’re writing, building or designing.

But before you click on one more thing, turn off, tune out and take a break.  Your brain (and clients) will thank you.

The French seem to know that there's often more to something than meets the eye. When considering why empires go to war, for example, they might suggest cherchez la femme...or, look for the woman.

It’s important for me to remember that things are not always as they seem.  That it might be healthy to give people (including clients and prospects) the benefit of the doubt.  And that, in some cases, better management — not just better writing — might be an option.

Example:  I had a small cow the other day.  I went off after reading a story in my hometown paper, the once-mighty, Pulitzer Prize-winning Courier-Journal of Louisville, Ky.

I don’t need to go into the details.  Trust me.  It was really bad.  Over the 24 hours or so since it first ran, the editors have cleaned it up a lot.  Here’s the on-line version, for what it’s worth. (more…)

If you write for a living (or think you might want to try), do yourself a favor.  Watch this movie:

What the 50 screenwriters in Tales from the Script (2009) tell me is important for any writer, especially one with a client.  However you define that.

Here are four of the many lessons they offer:

1. Get used to chaos. No matter how sincere the time line and approval commitments, life has a way of showing up.  Things slide,  and before you know it, you’re part of a train wreck.
2. Develop a thick skin. There’s never any way to predict how your work will be received.  Clients are human, and it’s impossible to know who might have a bad day or when.  Plus, people can disagree.  Your take on something might not be their take on something.  Even if it’s personal, don’t take it personally.
3. Great writing alone isn’t good enough. Writing for hire is a team sport.  If you’re not good with people, find something else to do.
4. Don’t quit. It can be discouraging to go through draft after draft after draft…even when you’re getting paid to do it.  Nothing ever gets created, however, without the risk of failure.  Be brave.

The sooner you accept the legitimacy of these things, the happier and more serene your writing life will seem.

Dans ses écrits, un sàge Italien Dit que le mieux est l'ennemi du bien. Or, "In his writings, a wise Italian says that the best is the enemy of the good."

Seth reminded me this morning of Voltaire’s awesome aphorism:

The perfect is the enemy of the good.

Blasted perfectionism!

Part of the reason I like Sue Grafton so much is her honesty.  Plus, she’s so attached to her hometown, Louisville.  My hometown.

Her honesty may come naturally.  Or, it may be a result of the work she’s done on herself.  Years of therapy, she says.

At least some of that therapy and other work has brought together Grafton, a fabulously successful and hard-working fiction author, and Carl Jung, the founder of analytical psychology.  Their relationship was apparent in a 1999 interview on which I recently stumbled.

Here’s the excerpt which addresses writer’s block…and its roots in the Shadow nature Dr. Jung described…and which each of us has.  The interviewer asks, “You mentioned a little bit about writer’s block. How do you get around it?” (more…)

COMISSARY

Barton and Geisler sit eating in a semicircular booth.  Geisler speaks through a mouthful of food:

GEISLER

Don’t worry about it.  It’s just a B picture.  I bring it in on budget, they’ll book it without even screening it.  Life is too short.

BARTON

But Lipnik said he wanted to look at the script, see something by the end of the week.

GEISLER

Sure he did.  And he forgot about it before your ass left his sofa.

BARTON

Okay.  I’m just having trouble getting started.  It’s funny.  I’m blocked up.  I feel like I need some kind of indication of…what’s expected –

GEISLER

Wallace Beery.  Wrestling picture.  What do you need?  A road map?

Geisler chews on his cottage cheese and stares at Barton.

…Look, you’re confused?  You need guidance?  Talk to another writer.

BARTON

Who?

Geisler rises and throws his napkin onto his plate.

GEISLER

Jesus, throw a rock in here, you’ll hit one.  And do me a favor, Fink:  Throw it hard.

(more…)