Where do ideas come from? Is it the Muses? I’m sure there are nearly as many theories as there are ideas. Why do they sometimes flow like a meltwater torrent, sometimes stagnate like a murky pond, and sometimes dry up like a seasonal flow, leaving nothing but cracked, parched soil behind?
Frankly, I don’t have the slightest idea (pun fully intended). If I did, it would make things much easier. I’d just provide the input, and the output would flow as neatly and predictably as through a canal. But there’s a reason why a meandering river is so much richer and more varied, so much more fascinating than a concrete-lined canal. At its best, it’s an undisturbed, organic system.
Just like the mind. Left to meander, the mind will come up with surprising ideas, insights, and connections. Time and again I’ve been stunned by thoughts that came up on the page, seemingly out of nowhere, whether I’m freewriting in my journal, or discovery writing my next novel.
In every waking moment, a torrent of sensory input gets filtered and sorted and stored, and only a fraction of it even makes it to the conscious level. The subconscious must be a bottomless swamp of impressions, connections, feelings, and sheer, raw data. Every so often, a tiny bubble starts in its depths and, on its way to the surface, it incorporates other bubbles and swells and expands until it breaks the surface and bursts into consciousness.
How did I get from the Muses to the swamp? Again: I have no idea. Freewriting. Letting the brain relax and do its thing. There are some writers who firmly believe in the Muses and use ritual to call them up. There are others who credit the girls in the basement with their ideas.
Whatever the truth is – and my hunch is that the truth for every one of us is what we believe it to be – the important thing is to give the mind (or the Muse or the basement-dwellers) enough raw material to work with. In other words, to fill the well. And then to make sure that we don’t choke the flow, but let it run freely. We can always revise. But we can’t revise what hasn’t been written. And sometimes we just have to accept the occasional dry spell and trust that it will pass.
All right. Back to my writing. I need to churn the swamp a bit.