Guest Blogger Sarah Chauncey writes about increasing energy, exploring ideas, and preventing burnout:
You’re driving on a long stretch of highway when you have an insight about your main character’s childhood. Or you’re mid-hair-rinse in the shower, when you suddenly understand how to bring together the braided strands of your novel. Or you wake up at 2 a.m. with the resolution to that thorny plot issue you’ve been wrestling.
Have you ever noticed how many ideas arise when you’re not sitting at the keyboard?
As writers, we’ve all experienced the law of diminishing returns—the point at which our writing stops being generative and begins to feel like we’re pulling each word from our synapses by hand. I spent the better part of a decade investigating how to create what I half-jokingly call a “law of increasing flow.” How might writers support our writing practice in a way that doesn’t leave us mentally burned out?
Conventional advice: butt in chair, hands on keyboard
For decades, writers have been told the most important thing to do is to put “butt in chair, hands on keyboard.”
BICHOK is essential to writing. You can’t publish a book without sitting down to write, to revise, to revise again (and again and again), to query, or to fill out your author questionnaire. Yet so often, it’s treated like a Puritan work ethic or a punishment: “You put your backside in that chair, young man, and don’t get up until you’ve written 10 pages.”
That may work for some writers, and if you’re among them, more power to you! That kind of disciplinarian approach, though, doesn’t work for me.
Putting hands on a keyboard doesn’t make someone a writer, any more than holding a Stratocaster makes someone a musician. There are many times when we can gain insight by looking away from our work. These include: Before we sit down to write, during the writing process, and between revisions. What we do during those times is every bit as important as getting the words down.
To understand how this helps your writing, it’s important to understand the interplay of the conscious and subconscious mind.
How the subconscious and conscious mind work
When I was younger, I used to tell people that my best writing bypassed my intellect entirely; it came from my heart and flowed down my arm. While that might sound precious and woo-woo, it turns out my instincts were right on. The intellect has many wonderful uses—categorizing and sorting (and revising, oh so much revising.)—but it’s a terrible writer.
The thinking mind informs our writing; it’s what allows us to conduct research, analyze information and execute the ideas we have. Original ideas, though, can only come up when we deliberately allow the mind to wander—and pay attention to its whereabouts.
The conscious or rational mind, including what we call the intellect, takes in about 2,000 bits of information per second. However, it can only process about 40 bits of information per second.
The subconscious mind, on the other hand, takes in upwards of 11 million bits of information per second. We know more than we are aware of knowing. The subconscious retains everything we’ve ever experienced. It combines seemingly disparate ideas and experiences and comes up with new and unusual connections. Just ask anyone who’s ever dreamt about their aunt Myrtle performing Riverdance in a T-Rex costume. The subconscious is creative.
Creativity comes from beyond the thinking mind
J.D. Salinger once wrote, “Novels grow in the dark.” By that, he meant that they emerge from the subconscious mind. In my experience, what we call intuition is logic of the subconscious, delivered to us in aha moments after it has had time to percolate.
Consider the old-fashioned tin coffeemaker, the kind you put on a stove. You add the ingredients—water in the bottom, coffee grounds on top—but you don’t expect coffee right away. The stove has to heat up; the water has to boil. Then it has to percolate, mixing the bubbling water with the grounds, as the water slowly takes on the flavor of the grounds. The process takes time and can’t be rushed. Creative percolation is the same.
Many of us get ideas from sudden insights, but waiting around for those is a fool’s errand, because there’s one major block: The thinking mind is as noisy as a jackhammer, whereas intuition whispers. As long as our thinking mind is engaged, it will be difficult to notice subconscious insights.
When we look away and we relax the thinking mind, we’re more receptive to our intuition.
Looking away gives the subconscious time to percolate.
Click on BICHOK to read the rest of this excellent and informative essay by Sarah Chauncey.
Originally posted on Jane Friedman’s Blog, January 18, 2024, “Beyond BICHOK: How, When and Why Getting Your Butt Out of the Chair Can Make You a Better Writer.”
Sarah Chauncey is a veteran writer, freelance editor and writing coach, as well as the author of P.S. I Love You More Than Tuna. She helps her clients enhance their creative flow through mindfulness. Subscribe to her newsletters: Resonant Storytelling (writing) and The Counterintuitive Guide to Life (inner peace).
Sarah has written for Tiny Buddha, Lion’s Roar and Eckhart Tolle’s website
From Sarah’s website:
I was raised to worship at the altar of the intellect. I studied at Sarah Lawrence College and graduated magna cum laude from George Washington University with a BA and partial Masters in social psychology, with a focus on psychoneuroimmunology and community health, through the lens of the AIDS epidemic.
When I burned out from grieving dozens of friends, I shifted into the theatre world and attended Yale School of Drama for stage management. Later, I attended Goddard College’s MFA in Creative Writing program (fiction).
In the 1990s, I was head writer for the web’s first entertainment magazine, Entertainment Drive, and I content-designed and ghostwrote several of the first official celebrity websites (Cindy Crawford, Britney Spears and others).
