A lot of people who write sometimes think they just “can’t do it right now”. They think they must be mentally exhausted or too stressed or busy. They think (as I often do) that it must be something to do with the phases of the moon – full moon good, new moon bad. They think they’re just uninspired, that there’s no good ideas to be had at the moment, and that they will definitely get down to it as soon as their muse comes calling. Foolish people might even think that there’ll even be time to do it all later.
All of this is, of course, nothing more than human laziness.
i am so tired i can’t even feel my body. i suppose it’s my fault. all that coffee and horseplay,m no meaty thougtuful meaningful matters. everythgin seems so ephemeal, everything i do a waste of time, every thing is lost, it often seems. today for example, i was standing at the bus stop. this in itself is unsual as i have a car, and haven’t taken the bus anywhere since my teens . but anyway, there i was at the bustop, when this man came up to me. do you have the time he asked, no i sad. tell me the time he insisted. i looked at him for a oment, trying to work out what mental disfunction he had or if he simply hadn’t heard me. i don’t have a watch. that makes no difference he continued, i want you to tell me the time. i was a bit confused at this point – i could have been scared, but he was 5’7″ or so, and i’m 6’2″, and can handle myself in a fight. this guy looked like he couldn’t handle frozen food in a supermarket. i don’t know the time. yes he replied, suddenly triumphant – that’s the right answer, you don’t. then he walked off. i am still wondering what he means.
The above is an example spontaneous writing, spelling mistakes and all. I found it just a few minutes ago, in a folder called ‘automatic’ on my hard drive – one of those many things I create and then entirely forget about: I’ve other folders devoted exclusively for titles without a story to yet go with them; lines or sentences without a paragraph to live in; witty quips and scraps of dialogue without a character to utter their words. My “Authored” folder on my computer is a warehouse of spare parts, an organ bank of blood, hearts, faces, kidneys and skin waiting for a willing patient to be transplanted into.
Seasoned authors will be no strangers to this exercise – just sit down and let it all – let anything come pouring out. Don’t think about it, don’t try and give it form or shape or meaning. Just image yourself standing on a bridge looking at the water flowing away from you below. Mediums would call this a form of automatic writing – a means of communion with spirits. Scientists would simply say it is accessing part of the subconscious. Whatever you want to call it, and all are just as valid, it’s a way of accessing raw imagination, ideas, images and concepts when you think your mind is unable to focus – too preoccupied or crowded with other thoughts.
Sometimes you don’t need to sit down and think about how you’re going to get something done. Sometimes you just need to let your imagination take hold of you rather than trying it the other way round. Sometimes the only way a child can get through a crowd is to hold their mother’s hand and surrender their fitful independence to be pulled safely through.
Try it. Your imagination is your friend.
