Wordplay

I’ve always been intrigued by the left-brain/right-brain theory—the idea that creative thought stems from the right hemisphere of the brain, while logical thought flows from the left hemisphere. Most people are noticeably stronger in one hemisphere or the other, mostly due to their tendency to exercise one side more often.


Growing up, I always considered myself a right-brainer, due to my imaginative ramblings. But, the older I get, the more my left-brain (logical, sequential, rational, analytical, objective) tendencies seem to be taking over and, as a result, the more my creative processes become subjective to the “thinking” side of my brain versus the “instinctual” side.


I’m a rabid organizer: I outline my stories in such depth that the outline could almost be considered my first draft; I run my characters through an intricate “interview process”; and I edit methodically, piece by piece, sentence by sentence. I feel very strongly that this method is the best I could possibly utilize for myself. I am not someone who can sit down at the computer with a half-formed idea, type the first sentence, and then wing my way to the closing chapter. I have to know where I’m going and how I’m getting there. And I feel that my stories are much the better for my following this method.


A few Christmases ago, someone gave me Robert Olen Butler’s book From Where You Dream: The Process of Writing Fiction, and last month I finally got around to reading it. I squirmed a little through the introduction and the first chapter. When Butler wrote things like “Please get out of the habit of saying that you’ve got an idea for a short story. Art does not come from ideas. Art does not come from the mind. Art comes from the place where you dream. Art comes from your unconscious; it comes from the white-hot center of you” I rolled my eyes and though Oh boy, here comes the useless touchy-feely stuff. But as I read further, some of Butler’s ideas intrigued me.


In Chapter 5: “A Writer Prepares,” Butler talked about “dreamstorming” your story, about letting images and characters well up from your unconscious. He recommended that writers collect hundreds of these little idea snippets before sitting down to write. As I read this, I found myself leaning forward in my seat, a lopsided grin curving my face, and thinking: I do this!


To a certain point, anyway.


After their initial conception, most of my stories sit around in the back of my mind for years. I don’t often deliberately “dreamstorm” them as Butler suggests, but ideas will well up out of nowhere and add themselves to the mental panorama I am forming for a given story. When, finally, I am ready to write, I’ll sit down and organize all these random scenes into a brief and sketchy outline.


Now, here’s the interesting part: the best parts of my stories are almost always the unconscious parts—the scenes I’ve dreamt up out of nowhere.


Butler’s theory does allow for “thinking” in the second draft, in the rewriting. It’s just the original concepts that must be unconscious. He even allows for outlining to the extent that he organizes his collection of scenes and images into a cohesive and linear whole. He’s not a stream-of-conscious proponent, which was one of things I feared when I started the book. He just demands that the idea (although he wouldn’t use that term) flow from the unconscious without initially being checked or directed by the writer’s conscious, thinking mind. Taken in small part and non-exclusively, it’s a brilliant approach.


In Koine Greek, it is impossible to say “I think,” because no active form of the verb exists. Instead, one is forced to say, “The thought occurred to me.” As Sharlee Foster, one of my earliest writing mentors, put it: “We ourselves do not think, but rather thoughts are given to us.” Although all stories need the eventual guidance of an objective and analytical design plan, I think authors find that their greatest and most original ideas must be filtered through the labyrinth of the unconscious.


I don’t agree with all of Butler’s opinions (especially his adamant claim that anything created “consciously” is hackneyed dreck), but his book presented an enormously vital and valid point. The best of writing—indeed, the best of all art—is a gift. Most artists would be the first to admit that their genius is beyond even them. It comes from someplace outside the conscious realm... it comes from where we dream. Once we recognize and accept that fact, we are then able to take advantage of the tremendous opportunity of harnessing our unconscious minds. The two sides of our creativity—the conscious and the unconscious—working in harmony, the one pulsing and pounding ahead, the other slowing and refining, are capable of producing great things.

Story by K.M. Weiland

Tags: Conscious , Creativity , From Where You Dream , Left Brain , Right Brain , Robert Olen Butler , Subconscious , Unconscious