Hack the Creative Headspace

Last week, I managed a house full of sick kids. Because I have four kids, any illness that enters the home invariably kicks up its feet and decides to stay for a while. I woke up every morning unsure as to which kiddo would go to school. In the mayhem, I’m pretty sure one of them faked me out, too. When I told him he looked better, he asked what he would need to stay home the following day. As soon as I said the word “fever,” he promptly cut me off.

“Which I will have,” he said.

(Reader, he did not have a fever, and he did - in fact - go to school. He left the house full of righteous anger, but he left the house.)

This week, I’ve been grateful for a normal routine. Composing requires momentum, and I’ve found that the creative spark finds me most reliably when I show up for it. However, restarting after a break always requires some mental finesse on my part. First, I focus on the feeling of accomplishment I’ll have at the end of the day. When that fails, I bribe myself to get on with it.

A latte from the coffee truck for hitting my word count goal? Yes, please.

I also like to lean on other writers’ wisdom to get my bum back in the chair. Writing, depending on how you do it, can be a solitary gig. Yet whether you like or loathe a group project, I’ve found value in learning from other writers’ tried-and-true creative routines.

Here are some of my favorite nuggets from some literary luminaries. Whatever your form of creative expression, I bet you’ll find them useful to get started again - and to get on with it.

One: Break It Down

Jane Austen, the writer famous for satirizing 18th century society in England, left us with six novels. At the time of her death at the age of 41, Austen was in the midst of two unfinished novels as well. Suffice it to say that Austen had a strong work ethic.

Her writing thrived in large part because of her devotion to her routine. She tried to make time for her writing every single day. In her home at Chawton Cottage, she wrote at a small table. She also carried a writing desk which allowed her to move around her home with her work.

In her earliest days, Austen wrote on scraps of paper. Though she eventually graduated to thicker booklets, I’ve always loved this unique aspect of her process - and I’ve pilfered it with great success.

When I’m stuck in the middle of a writing project - or returning to work after an unusual break, I often find it easier to tackle a scene on its own. I might compose dialogue on paper or sketch out action in the notes section of my phone. I might jot down a character’s description on a napkin. I’ve filled the back of receipts with thoughts for plot holes.

Somehow, reducing a large project to a “scrap” allows me to buff that gem to a shine - while also taking the pressure off my process. Returning to a project with a finished component can feel like cutting in line. I return to the document with fresh momentum - and find myself farther along in the story, too.

Austen instinctively knew that breaking a creative process into small pieces promotes focus and prevents overwhelm. By writing bits and pieces of a story, she refined each element before weaving it back into the whole. Maybe Austen discovered her own version of presence here: to place her focus on a moment, rather than an entire manuscript. To me, this “scrap” of her genius process is one we all can pocket to increase our creative output.

Two: Set An Intention Of Freedom

In his autobiographical memoir, Novelist as a Vocation, Haruki Murakami offers insight into his author life. At first glance, Murakami’s writing routine seems like the ultimate grind. He’s an early riser. He wakes up at four in the morning, immediately begins writing, and works for at least five hours. Moreover, Murakami starts each day with a quota in mind. He drafts ten Japanese pages, or sixteen hundred English words, every day. Without fail, Murakami hits his mark - and he stops writing as soon as he reaches it.

Despite his steady routine, Murakami ironically values his professional life most for its freedom. He explained his outlook: “More than being artists, novelists should think of themselves as ‘free’ - ‘free’ meaning that we do what we like, when we like, in a way we like without worrying about how the world sees us. This is far better than wearing the stiff and formal robes of the artist.”

While Murakami cherishes freedom as a writer, pivoting often between his work as a novelist and a translator, he also hopes his readers recognize their freedom, too.

“I would like my readers to savor that same emotion when they read my books,” Murakami wrote. “I want to open a window in their souls and let the fresh air in. This is what I think of, and hope for, as I write - purely and simply.”

I rarely sit down in front of laptop and think of writing as an act of freedom. But Murakami reminds me that it is. The act of creating allows me to dip into a uniquely human, freewheeling energy. Right before I begin writing, I’m grinding my teeth with the weight of it. I forget how much I love what I do. Minutes later, as I’m pulling threads and weaving together ideas, I forget about everything else.

Later today, I plan to sit down with Murakami’s grateful attitude. Because a blank page, however overwhelming, can be whatever we make of it. As soon as we begin our routine, we’re free.

Three: Set The Scene

While her iconic Harry Potter series dazzles with its nuanced world of wizardry, J.K. Rowling writes like she has a magic wand, too. Her books are thicker than bricks, chock-full of the details and descriptive power necessary to build another world.

But before she conjures the setting for her characters, she sets the scene for herself.

Before realizing unimaginable fame, Rowling used to love to write in coffee shops. She can’t write with conversation or lyrics (I can’t either!), but the coffee shop backdrop once allowed her creativity to flow.

As Rowling has said: “[A] background buzz, as in a cafe, is always comforting. I used to love to write [there] and gave it up reluctantly, but part of the point of being alone in a crowd was being happily anonymous and free to people-watch, and when you’re the one being watched, you become too self-conscious to work.”

Now, Rowling uses classical music in her writing room instead. She makes tea. She has snacks easily available. Once her needs are met, she is able to focus her attention entirely on her work.

I would bet that all creatives rely on certain talismans. For my part, I need a hot drink nearby. I also (unfortunately) can’t listen to music with lyrics, relying instead on classical music or binaural beats. Over time, I’ve found that indulging these preferences isn’t precious but ritualistic. These tiny tasks cue my subconscious that it’s time to shift gears into creative mode. They offer a transition point, gently nudging me out of one reality into another one.

Sometimes, making tea is so much more than making tea - it’s the beginning of a magical exchange. Rowling knows this better than anyone.

Four: Trust in The Third Eye

Toni Morrison, the author of tour-de-force novels like Beloved and The Bluest Eye, had a writing routine that most modern authors will recognize. Because she worked full-time and parented her two sons, she wrote whenever she could. She most cherished her early morning writing time. Drinking coffee and watching the sunrise. Writing each first draft by hand. A legal pad, a pencil, and an uninterrupted hour were all Morrison needed to begin.

But I think her mindset helped, too.

Morrison worked for two decades as an editor at Random House - and, despite the inevitable peaks and valleys of the publishing industry, she always sang their praises.

In describing her author life to The Paris Review, Morrison said: “…I learned how important, how critical an editor was … Good editors are really the third eye. Cool. Dispassionate … Sometimes it’s uncanny; the editor puts his or her finger on exactly the place the writer knows is weak but just couldn’t do any better at the time … [W]ithin the relationship if there is some trust, some willingness to listen, remarkable things can happen.”

I find Morrison’s self-awareness on this point extremely compelling. While so much of the creative process involves solitude - surrendering to state of flow, focusing inward, and ignoring distractions - creativity doesn’t end after a first attempt. Instead, creatives have ample opportunities to course correct. In my experience, my most fruitful exchanges have occurred editors. The editors I’ve known, in my author journey and in my freelance life, have all made my work so much better.

However we choose to create, Morrison reminds us that we’re never creating alone for long.

I hope you’ve found these tips helpful! I have work to do today, and I’m planning on implementing these ideas to hack my headspace before I begin. While these noted authors can offer us great tips for our own creative processes, I’d love to hear what works for you. Please reach out with your favorite tips to promote creativity!