The Dictionary of Creativity

Here's an intriguing new online resource: a glossary of terms and ideas relating to the creative process.
This compendum goes beyond the usual role of a dictionary in that it defines concepts: detached devotion, the ten-year rule, secondary process, etc. And it summarizes research in the field of creativity.
Curiosity doesn't take long to define, but there are interesting little mini-essays on such subjects as novelty, and the distribution of creativity over time and space. I never knew for example that research into the function and enhancement of creativity began with inquiry into what makes a genius.
The writing in this "dictionary" is quite scholarly, with a wide range of sources, Freud to Ecclesiastes. You may want to skim the drier stuff, but there are some interesting nuggest in here.

Remember to Say the (Seemingly) Obvious!

I announced in an earlier post, that I was taping my new law of strong, clear, impassioned writing onto my monitor.

And then forgot all about it, until I was reminded by two people in their comments. This new law for my work (and life) is to remember to say what seems to me obvious, which often tends to be the most important part of the message.

Now in this photo, you see it, as promised, on my monitor. And I'm certain that it's already working.

Technically, for most persuasive power, I should put it more positively, more directly still: REMEMBER TO SAY THE OBVIOUS.

Okay, now I'm putting that one up too, at the top of my screen.

Thanks for the help, Debra and Erin.

My Same Old Communication Error

Yesterday in conversation, I once again made my characteristic error: the one that plagues me in writing and causes me to have to do so many drafts of everything I write.

I left out the part that seemed to me obvious.

That would work if everyone saw things in the same way. But it seems that we don't, so this is a bad strategy.

Therefore, my new motto: Nothing goes without saying. I'm taping it onto my monitor.

A Creative Castle

A wildly successful inventor-entrepreneur has an indoor treehouse and a bunch of other non-standard domestic items at his house.

Scott Jones and his castle and his work habits are profiled in a series of six articles in Fortune. Be sure to click to the next article at the bottom of each one.

He's an inspiration.

Protecting Our Creative Time

Keeping the time open to do creative work can be as difficult as protecting pristine wilderness. The urge to take on too much--and make other people happy in the moment--can be overwhelming.

Today a column for teenagers by Lacia Johnson in The Jamaica Observer offers a checklist of questions to consider when somebody else has an interesting plan for a piece of our time.

Do I have the time (without delaying my own work)?
Will I feel pressured to get it done?
Will I be upset with myself?
Will I feel resentful of the other person?
Will I feel duped, had or swindled?
What do I have to give up to do this?

In my experience, the easiest way to make the right decision is to say: let me think about that and call you tomorrow.

Confidence Club

I just ordered a CD on Developing Physical Presence from a site called Confidence Club.

Here are the results I'm promised:

"You will deal more effectively with potential confrontation. People will listen to you more regularly and more attentively. You will experience less difficulty in making your views known. You will feel more comfortable and relaxed when meeting new people."

I ordered this because I'd like to feel what it's like to be the Bill Clinton in a room, to have my version of his famous charisma to get my various messages across clearly. (This is perhaps a tad more than was promised.)

I'm not exactly shy now, to put it mildly. But a fair number of hello-in-passing acquaintances don't recognize me until I remind them. I'm mild and pale enough that I can blur with others who look like me.


And I know how to be invisible; I use this skill on days when I don't even want to say hello.

More than one psychic/intuitive/reader has told me that my aura is pulled in so close that it barely extends beyond my body. I sort-a like that, so I don't have to get involved with everything and everybody my eyes fall upon. However, I'd like to be able to expand with the speed of an air bag, as needed.

So I've ordered this hypnotic induction that is going to teach me how. I'll let you know how it goes. I'm quite eager to find out.

Age is No Excuse

In an L.A. Times article titled "It's Never Too Late to Create," an economist and the editor of The Chicago Review list some of the artists who have done "game-changing work" at quite grown-up ages.

Paul Cezanne created his influential work in his 60s, for example. Clint Eastwood is making his most highly-acclaimed movies in his mid-70s. Louise Bourgeois bloomed in her 80s. Etc. (L.A. is a town that needs to hear that, since there's such a youth bias in all aspects of the movie business.)

At the same time, being too young is no excuse for holding back either. There's little more pleasingly marketable to a publisher than a writer so young that it's newsworthy.


In fact, whatever we might view as an obstacle can become a news angle to draw interest when the creation is ready to go out into the world.

The Courage Spider

A writer friend of mine had surgery on her wrist that left a narrow scar running straight up her arm.


So she added a tattoo: At the bottom of that thread of a line, she now has an inked-in spider. That little fellow reminds her, many times a day, to have the courage to go into any dark places where her writing wants to take her.

That image might stop a lot of people. But not her. She has found the reminder that works for her. Which is what we each have to do: find what works, on this particular project, at this time.

How Altruism Enhances Creativity

From Karen Armstrong's The Spiral Staircase: My Climb out of Darkness

“Insight does not always come to order, and there will certainly be no renaissance if you are merely trying to ‘get' something for yourself. As soon as I stopped trying to exploit my literary skills to advance my career or enhance my reputation, I found that I was opening myself to the text, could lose myself in the beauty of the words and in the wisdom of the writer. It was a kind of ekstasis…a going beyond the self.”

I ran across the quote in Gaining: The Truth about Life after Eating Disorders by Aimee Liu.


It dovetails with the philosophy of a book I co-wrote a few years ago with Allan Luks: The Healing Power of Doing Good.


I never thought until now about how that principle of expanding my focus beyond myself could lead to better reading and writing, as well as better physical and mental health.

Writing simply to say what needs to be said can lift the heavy restrictions of self-consciousness.

What's Your Book ABOUT?

From Design Your Writing Life, which credits Copyblogger:


"It's not uncommon for writers to get 5, 10, 20,000 words down the road and bump up against the thought, "What in the heck am I writing about?" If this is where you find yourself now, here are six starting points for doing the back cover writing exercise:


Title your book. Go ahead, just make one up.


Write a headline. This should be a grabber, and a great place to start is to pose a question, the million dollar question.


Paragraph One: Answer the question. Provide a thumbnail of the plot through the eyes of your main characters, and their core conflicts. What are they up against? What's in their way?


Paragraph Two: Describe the outer world. Give us some context. Create the bigger world your characters live in--time, place, sensibility.


Write in the language and feel of your novel. Think of yourself as an actor trying on a costume. As a writer, your costume is the nature and feel of the language.


Write a closing sentence. This sentence can allude to the resolution of the book. Because this is an exercise and not the actual back cover copy, don't worry about giving away the store."

Put Your Mug Where Your Mouth Is

If you'd like the U.S. to withdraw from Iraq, here's a step you can take to lobby Congress for this. Send a picture of yourself with some symbol showing your support of ending the war to Americans for Exit. America's political leaders will soon see the many and various faces of those of us who want peace.

Assertive Art

"'...Positive assertiveness is the courage needed to express a disconnect with a ‘different point of view’ or with another person’s style of engagement. It is the capacity to not say ‘yes’ when you mean ‘no’ or ‘maybe’; it is the willingness to put forth a radical, unconventional idea without the fear of ridicule...'"

This quote comes from an article in the India-based Economic Times about appropriate assertiveness in the workplace. The piece points out that such behavior helps the individual's self-esteem and creates a better environment for innovative ideas.

India is one of the last places such philosophy might be expected to come from. I'd read--and I saw when I lived in Varanasi researching Sister India--that Indian business and government tend to be ferociously hierarchical. Protocols, procedures, and chain-of -command rule.

At the other end of the spectrum, American artists are about as free as people ever are. And yet so many of us do struggle with uneasy shifting fears about our work. That it won't be accepted. That someone will hate it/us. That it's stupid. Etc.

I once heard actor/director/ screenwriter/musician Billy Bob Thornton say in a TV interview that he was going to be crucified when his new project came out. What I believe he meant was that he expected to get a lot of criticism.

Criticism and crucifixion are two different things.

That being the case, I feel I have no excuse for not fully expressing myself in my writing. Nobody is going to crucify me. And if Indian employees can stand up to their bureaucracies, surely I can tap out honest words in the privacy of my little office.

The worst that can happen is that nobody buys the piece. And I'll bet more books have failed out of the writer holding back--consciously or unconsciously--than have ever failed out of courage.

BTW, fear doesn't seem to have held Billy Bob back.

To Change One's Life

From William James, author of The Varieties of Religious Experience:



To change one's life:

Start immediately

Do it flamboyantly.

No exceptions.



(A thought about flamboyance: it constitutes a public announcement, which tends to strengthen a commitment.)

Any Questions About Writing or the Writing Business?

Part of my consulting work with other writers is answering questions by phone, things like: how long should I wait before calling the agent who's looking at my work? Or: can I send a story to two journals at once? How do I get myself back to writing? I do charge for these phone calls.

Today, however is FREEBIE DAY for writers with questions. Or, more accurately, freebie post.

If you'd like to send a question in the comment section of this post, I'll do my best to answer it. Not, of course, that I have all the answers. But I can tell you what I'd do, or what my experience and that of other writers has been.

And perhaps other commenters can offer their solutions.

Y'all have been quite helpful with some of your comments to me about my dilemmas. If you think of anything I can offer you here in dealing with yours, do SEND YOUR QUESTION. If this draws interest, I'll continue to do it again from time to time.

CHANGE TO STRANGE

A business professor at nearby UNC has written a book with an encouraging philosophy--one that gives me hope for the world's future.

The book by Daniel M. Cable, reviewed this weekend in my local News & Observer, is Change to Strange: Create a Great Organization by Building a Strange Workforce.

What he suggests here is that there is tremendous value in distinctiveness. So don't hide it, capitalize on it.

I love this idea--as long as the "strangeness" comes naturally and isn't contrived for an audience AND strangeness doesn't turn into a new orthodoxy.

This line of thinking could add a lot of juice to the world, to the process of work and to the product.

Ad agencies have known this for a long time. The hall that houses "the creative side" will sometimes have more bright-colored toys (for stimulating creativity) than a daycare center. And copywriters and art directors tend to dress funky. You'll rarely see flowing sleeves or paper airplanes in flight over on the hall where the account executives reside.

To be able to come up with creations like the Geico gecko it helps to have to have a little room to maneuver. Even if you choose to use that flexibility to wear a Brooks Brothers suit.

The Business of Being More Outspoken

I announced, in the previous post, my intention to gripe sooner when I feel that someone is treading upon me. And I find that's doing good things for me and my treaders.

Now I'm trying to figure out how to make that attitude do good things for my writing. Certainly it should--since the very essence of being outspoken is being overwhelmingly clear. And, in spite of lots of effort, I am easily misunderstood.

Half of me has been trying for years to overcome that problem, personally and professionally. The other half has been finding ways to sabotage the attempt.

For example, I recently decided to ramp up the volume in a stretch of pages. I successfully did so. Then I reread them after a lapse of time. I saw that what I'd done was to make all the scenes in the section uniformly loud and dramatic. As a result, nothing in the sequence has any emphasis and nothing stands out. I might as well not have bothered; a loud monotone is the same as a quiet monotone.

See what I mean by sabotage?

Well, I'm aiming to be through with this sabotage. I believe both halves of me are convinced.

More and Better Complaining

I'm having to make a peculiar and backwards-seeming change in my behavior.

It appears that I'm going to have to start griping more. I won't burden you with the messy details, but a few times recently I've stayed "nice" a beat or ten too long and wound up exploding.

After much thought and conversation, I've come to realize that it's really important for me to say earlier when something doesn't suit me. To say it more than once, if need be.

I've never liked the idea. In spite of such flourishes as my painting my car floral, I'm basically a low-key and somewhat stoical sort.

Now I am convinced that I must become overtly cranky more of the time. This is huge. I expect I'll find it interesting. Perhaps, ideally, even liberating.

Trying Too Hard to Win

This from Best Life magazine, an essay on "My Defining Moment" by rodeo Hall of Famer Ty Murray (as told to Bill Keith):

"...I had kicked ass all season long, but when it came down to the final ride for the championships, I would choke. I would come out like a long-distance runner taking off in a full sprint, not thinking about his breathing, his form, or his balance."

His mom--he was a high school student at the time--told him he was trying too hard. His senior year her advice sank in. "Instead of coming out like a boxer with his head down, windmilling his punches, I had to treat each time I got on the bull the exact same way, putting myself into the mental state that it was just another...practice ride."

That worked. And he transferred the wisdom to the rest of his life.

The ability to do that--and I don't find it easy or at times even possible--would certainly be a big help, not only with The Big Project but with The Big Job Interview, The Big Date, etc.

It's what I sometimes call "nerve in the curve." Stick to your game plan even in the scariest moments. In addition to improving performance, it feels better.

A Mid-Atlantic Turning Point in My Writing: The Final Installment

(This is the conclusion of an essay, serialized on this site, on my gathering courage for gutsier writing--and doing it on a crossing on the QE2. It ends with my three secrets for writing bolder. If you've made similar decisions in your work, please do share them in the comments. )



Staking out the lounge outside the dining room, I'd waited almost half an hour, when Francis Ford Coppola, in flowing Hawaiian shirt, arrived for lunch. "Hi," I said, getting to my feet, careful not to block his way in case he wanted to bolt and run. Could I speak with him, I said, waving my notebook as a credential, about writing on board the QE2? Was he working on a script?

With weary patience, he gestured us to two chairs, plopped down the sack holding his laptop computer. He has been writing on this voyage, he said, as he has done on this ship before.

Outside the window, fog hung thick over the water. A somber cello played from the speaker in the corner of the room. The father of the Godfather movies settled back in his chair. On this same ship, he said, he wrote sections of Godfather III. This trip, he was adapting John Grisham's novel The Rainmaker.

He likes to work by day at the gaming tables downstairs in the casino. They're the perfect height; and the process of the writing: "it's like a game." The ship is a place, he said, "in which you can have privacy, a chance of not being interrupted." I looked up from my notes. So passengers haven't been pestering him? "Only you," he said, an amused smile.

"I'll let you go," I said, half-hoping he would defend his privacy.

"No, no," dismissing the idea with a wave.

At that point, Ray Bradbury, formal in coat and tie, stopped to say hello. Coppola had a question for him he'd been meaning to ask: what were his favorite science fiction movies of all time?

"Close Encounters of the Third Kind," Bradbury began, "it's flawed, but the closing minutes are transcendent, with hope for the future...."

Bradbury went on to his table, and Coppola to his, to lunch with his young granddaughter. I went for a walk. Outside, the fog felt damp and oddly warm, the ocean moving in big grey swells. New York's bright skyline, its publishing offices, were more than a thousand miles behind us.

Like Coppola, I decided, I'm going to put aside my privacy, enough to tell an unguarded story. Like Bradbury, I'll stick by what I love, even if the other kids laugh. Like the Welsh, struggling to save their language, I am going to speak in my own voice. In the coming 25 years, I will tell stories that are peculiarly mine: the ones that rise, irrepressibly, to the surface, weird as sea creatures. I'm going to write those stories, whatever shape they take, whatever they cost me. I've half-known this for a while. Out here in the middle of the ocean, I can look back and see that, some time ago, I crossed a line, steamed into this territory that is new and, at the same time, home.

A Mid-Atlantic Turning Point in My Writing: Part 6

(This is the penultimate installment of a serialized essay on a crucial moment in gathering courage to write.)




Dinner: carpaccio, kiwi sorbet, duck a l'orange. A very good red wine. ...And Francis Ford Coppola, we finally realized, was eating only one table away. I'd thought that man looked familiar. Big and bearded, the famous screenwriter and director was supervising the dinners of the two children who were with him. He seemed to me a man who wanted his privacy, who did not want to be noticed.

Next morning: lying in bed, reflections of the water outside racing across the ceiling. I could understand Coppola's wanting to be left alone. My first novel Revelation has a bone-honesty that was painful for me. The story of a troubled minister, it is fiction; yet that minister's cast of mind is close to my own. Delicious as publication of that book was, I also came to feel as if my brain had been laid bare. As one reader said to me with a teasing grin, "we know you thought those thoughts." I've since half-consciously wanted to pull the drapes around myself.

But then I discovered it's impossible to write a memoir and maintain more than a minimal privacy. The new book would have to be far more revealing than Revelation, with its mere hints of my inner world. This made me angry, I resented it; but decided to proceed anyway. With a sense that I was doing violence to myself, I began the long work of dismantling the habits of guardedness, fearing of course, as I still do, that I might reveal myself only to find no one interested.