by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
Happy Easter! As the minister once said, “This being Easter Sunday, we will ask Mrs. Lewis to come forward and lay an egg on the altar.” Not exactly the true meaning, but there you are.
We now return you to our regularly scheduled post.
Hugh Howey, the breakout indie author of Wool (and the Silo series) once described his writer’s mind as “a pack of caffeinated Jack Russell terriers.” Fabulous! I totally get that.
The lyrical hippie satirist Tom Robbins said his mind was “like a pinball machine on acid.” When you read his work, you know that fits perfectly.
My favorite comedian, Steven Wright, said in an interview that he sees the world as a French impressionist painting in the pointillist style of George Seurat. He doesn’t see the big picture; he sees the dots, and finds one here and one over there, different colors, but somehow makes a connection. These he turns into one liners: “I went to a restaurant that serves breakfast at any time, so I ordered French Toast during the Renaissance.”
I began to wonder how I’d describe my own writer’s mind. It’s not as rowdy as frenzied Jack Russells, nor is it a ring-dinging arcade game fueled by a variety of hallucinogens. It might have a little pointillism from time to time, but mostly it’s like Marty McFly skateboarding in Back to the Future.
One imagines Marty having fun freestyling, but when he has a location to get to he rides with purpose. Sometimes he catches the back of a passing vehicle to pull him along for a while. When he gets to where he’s going, he does a pop-up pickup of the skateboard, and he’s done.
When I develop a project, I like to freestyle, have fun, try things. Soon enough I have a location to shoot for—a plot for a novel, novella or short story. When my idea is sufficiently developed, I latch onto it and it pulls me along as I write. When I’m finished, I pick up the skateboard until such time as I start freestyling again.
I thought it might be fun, in lieu of my Sunday tutorial, to throw this question out to all of you: what metaphor would you use to describe your writer’s mind?
Have at it!
Oh my. You’ve posed one of those types of questions that’s going to stick in my mind cogitating the possibilities. The immediate thing that popped into my mind while reading the post was the phrase “Who rides for justice?”
I don’t recall where that phrase first originated but I associate it with the Lone Ranger. Ever on an adventure, he sought to bring justice to the situation. Whether writing a mystery or historical fiction, my mind is always drawn to bringing about justice through the story situation. He didn’t know what he was going to run into, but he persisted till the thing was resolved and justice brought & he had fun along the way.
Related but unrefined, the other comparison that came to mind was that of a historian–they are like a private investigator, digging into the details of the past, not just for the sake of knowledge about that time or incident, but in an effort to learn from the past and not repeat mistakes, or to successfully repeat something that has had a positive effect. And yes, again, it is about adventure – stepping outside your own current world to immerse in another.
Very thought provoking question and fun to consider.
Either in flow – or totally useless for writing.
It’s tricky to get into flow, but feels so good to be surrounded by millions of my own words.
I’m R2D2. My head spins 360 looking around me to fuel my imagination. Some triggers a story line and I’m off writing a new story.
Tough question, Jim.
My Jack Russell ran away, chasing the hare of my youth. A tortoise replaced it. Now I’m slow but I get there…eventually. The shell on my back is my subconscious–heavy but oh-so-useful.
“Why?” is the question that always gets the tortoise moving.
Why did a terrible crime/event happen? What are the dominoes that fell beforehand to trigger the disaster?
Once I understand characters’ reasons and motives, the story starts plodding forward, slowly but inexorably.
My mind is like a NASCAR race when the big crash happens. All painted metal swirling around bumping, flashing, crashing into one another. Smoke and pieces flying through the air. Tumbling around. Rescue trucks. Each driver loosing his chance and others missing the wreck. The whole thing is full of danger and yet no one real gets hurt, cars are destroyed. Then it all gets sorted making sense out of who caused what. Favorites loose, back markers get a chance and then the announcer focuses on the heart of the story.
Please don’t tell my psychiatric about this.
Auto correct again. s/b psychiatrist
Taking silly seriously since 1974.
My brain is like a computer with too many tabs open.
🤣
My brain is like driving in Houston traffic. Thoughts come at me from all directions, some even go from the left side of the interstate all the way to an off exit on the right during rush-hour traffic.
I’ve never thought about this before, but fighting a working house fire would be a good metaphor for my writing process. I kick in the door and enter, knowing only that there’s heat and smoke and chaos. In the beginning, there’s zero visibility so I navigate by touch, sweeping the floors and the furniture with my arms and legs, searching for victims or hazards. Then I find the seat of the fire (my plot and McGuffin(s)) and I hit it with water and create a steam cloud (the runaway what-if that is the story). I cut a hole in the roof and break out windows to clear the smoke and steam (additional drafts) and then, finally, I see the entirety story that was a total mystery to me when I started.
Okay, that was fun.
These are good, folks. Nicely done!
Happy/ blessed Easter to you & your family.
As far as my brain goes I’m like an eagle flying down a highway @ tip top speed.
Thank you for your insights… I look forward to all your writings….
My self & my wife appreciate you.
God bless
Love
James =||= LeAnn
Thank you!
Fascinating exercise.
One metaphor for me, at least this morning: my brain on writing is like a kitten at the start of story, playful yet easily distracted, prone to chase after something else. The distraction continues, but eventually, if I persist, the kitten grows into a sleek cat, hunting that story until finally, my brain-cat pounces and has the ending.
Another would be the relationship I have with my subconscious, which sends me ideas via pneumatic tube from an adjoining office to mine, separated by a big glass window. I get the idea, begin working on it. When I’m stuck, I eventually look up and at my subconscious, which is gesturing at me from the other side of the glass. I need to figure out what the gestures mean.
Fun, Jim!
I think I’m like one of those cadaver or drug dogs, sniffing, sniffing, always sniffing. Following wherever the scent takes him, occasionally stopping and changing course. Not giving up until either his handler drags him away or the target presents itself. And when he finds what they’re looking for, whining and barking like crazy. (I actually haven’t tried THAT, but I have done a happy dance when I uncover a key to the story…)
Happy Easter, TKZers!
Sort of like Lucy working that factory line.
I have a journal with future ideas that have struck me since I decided this writing thing may actually be something I can do.
My biggest problem right now is which series idea can I be happiest with for 6 to 12 books? I know one-offs are fine but series is how I make money.
I used to think of my brain as a wonderful old library filled with little gnomes who ran around finding facts and arranging stories with lightening speed. Now, I know the gnomes are crazed idiots who are more likely shredding the important stuff while leaving me with useless trivia.
Depends on the stage. During the actual writing stage, I tend to have blinkers on and think of nothing else, probably because if I veer I’ll end up lost in a rabbit hole of research or the like. In the brainstorming stage, I’m more like a mouse in a maze on meth….
My brain is like a Raven, distracted by shiny objects. I take an hoard them until distracted by something else. In the end, all the shiny objects get used and make a whole but it takes time.
When I start a novel, my brain is like a library where all the books (ideas) are in the wrong places. I start picking them up to arrange them. Sometimes I get distracted by an interesting book and I invest some time in it. Other times I toss a book on a shelf marked “Later.” My library slowly takes shape until I get all the books lined up the way I want them.