Category: Creativity

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AI Creativity Writing

Did You Really Program That?

The Fundamental Issue

I once found myself in a local restaurant filled with young professors and graduate students from a nearby university. They were clustered around a long table arguing about the nature of originality in a world where machines could now produce human-like text and code with a few keystrokes. I sat at a small table nearby, eavesdropping.

“I just don’t think it’s right,” said a woman with steel-rimmed glasses. “If you’re using AI to write your paper, you should be honest about it. It’s intellectually dishonest otherwise.”

Her companion, a man with unruly hair and a cardigan stretched at the elbows, shook his head vigorously. “But what about the code you’re writing? Aren’t you using GitHub Copilot? Isn’t that the same thing?”

The question hung in the air between them.

The Contested Border

The border between human creativity and machine assistance has always been contested territory. When the word processor replaced the typewriter, did writers suddenly become less authentic? When compilers made it unnecessary to understand assembly language, did programmers become less skilled? Each technological advancement seems to bring with it a fresh anxiety about the dilution of human agency, a sense that we are somehow cheating if we don’t do things the “hard way”.

I recently visited a friend who works at a technology startup in San Francisco. His office was a converted warehouse with exposed brick and polished concrete floors. The ceiling was high enough that you could fly a small drone inside without hitting anything. Software engineers clustered around monitors, wearing noise-canceling headphones and drinking coffee from biodegradable cups. My friend showed me a tool called Cursor, which allows programmers to describe what they want a program to do in plain English, and then generates the code automatically.

“It’s called ‘vibe coding,'” he explained, showing me the interface. “You sort of… gesture at what you want, and the AI figures out how to make it happen.”

I watched as he typed a simple instruction: “Create a function that calculates the Fibonacci sequence up to the nth term.” The AI responded with a dozen lines of code, neatly formatted and commented. My friend nodded approvingly and made a few small adjustments.

“Did you really program that?” I asked.

He laughed. “Define ‘program.’ I told it what I wanted. It wrote the code. I checked it and made a few tweaks. Is that programming? I don’t know. But I’m still responsible for the end result.”

Tools like Cursor and Windsurf are all the rage lately among software engineers as they provide truly dramatic productivity boosts to those writing code.

The Woodworker’s Tools

The discussion reminded me of a conversation years ago with a group of master woodworkers. They were craftsmen who built furniture by hand, using tools that hadn’t changed much in centuries. I asked one of them, a man with fingers gnarled by decades of work, what he thought about power tools.

“People think using hand tools makes you more authentic,” he said, running his palm along the grain of a maple board. “But the old masters would have used power tools if they’d had them. The point isn’t the tool. It’s what you’re trying to create, and whether you understand what you’re doing.”

He showed me a dovetail joint he’d cut with a table saw and jig. “Is this less authentic because I didn’t use a hand saw? The joint is still tight. The wood is still joined. I still had to understand the properties of the wood and how the joint works.”

Writers and programmers alike are wrestling with similar questions. When does technological assistance become a crutch? When does it become cheating? The novelist who uses a thesaurus is not accused of intellectual dishonesty. The programmer who uses a library of pre-written functions is not condemned for laziness. But something about AI assistance feels different to many people.

The Future of Creation?

Perhaps it’s the speed. A process that once took hours now takes seconds. Perhaps it’s the black-box nature of the technology. We cannot see how the AI arrived at its solution, cannot trace the path of its reasoning. We think they’re just dumb machines probabilistically predicting the next word. Or perhaps it’s simply that we are witnessing a fundamental shift in what it means to create.

My programmer friend has a different perspective. “The future of programming isn’t writing code,” he says. “It’s understanding problems and directing machines to solve them. The code is just an implementation detail.”

I wonder if writers will come to feel the same way. Will the future of writing be less about crafting individual sentences and more about directing AI to capture a particular voice or style? Will we come to see the arrangement of words as merely an implementation detail in the larger project of communication? How does this extend to other fields like film, movies and art?

The Disclosure Dilemma

The question of disclosure remains thorny. Should writers and programmers be required to disclose their use of AI assistance? Some argue that it’s essential for transparency and accountability. Others suggest that it’s no different from any other tool, and that the focus should be on the final product, not the process used to create it.

I think of the woodworker showing me his dovetail joint. “The wood doesn’t care how you cut it,” he said. “It only cares that the joint is tight.”

Perhaps the same is true of writing and programming. Many readers won’t care how the words were arranged, only that they resonate. The software user doesn’t care how the code was written, only that it works.

And yet, there is something deep within us that values the human touch, that finds meaning in the knowledge that another person’s mind and hands shaped the thing we’re experiencing. We want to know that somewhere in the process, a human being made choices, experienced frustration and triumph, poured their unique perspective into the creation.

As I left the restaurant I mentioned earlier the debate at the long table was still going strong. I caught a final snippet as I passed by: “It’s not about the tools,” someone was saying. “It’s about the intention.”

Perhaps that’s the heart of it. Not what tools we use, but how we use them, and why. Not whether we use AI, but whether we use it thoughtfully, with intention and understanding. Not whether we disclose its use, but whether we’re honest about our process, both with ourselves and with others.

There’s no question the AI tools are here and that they’re improving dramatically seemingly every day. They’re providing some powerful leverage to amplify our own skills – if we choose to use them wisely.

Note: this initial idea for this post was mine triggered by listening to a podcast interview with Dan Shipper of Every. I had help fleshing it out using Claude 3.7 from Anthropic. The post began with a couple of paragraphs I wrote. Then I used the following prompt: “You’re an expert writer and editor helping me with my personal blog. Write a 1000 word blog post in the style of John McPhee based on the following initial thoughts…” After that I rewrote portions of Claude’s response to add clarity and emphasis before sharing it here.

Note 2: all of this was done on my iPhone.

Categories
AI AI: Large Language Models Claude Creativity Writing

Co-Creation

Ethan Mollick, a professor at the Wharton School, has written a popular book on artificial intelligence titled “Co-Intelligence“. Like I do with most books I read, I’ve collected a series of highlights of various passages I found interesting when I read Mollick’s book – a book I enjoyed very much. This morning I came across one of those highlights which sent me off on this exploration.

But first let me share a perspective. A few friends of mine – when exploring how they might use artificial intelligence – reject the use of AI tools for helping them write. They feel strongly that the words an AI creates aren’t their own and strongly reject simply using an AI-generated output to create articles for their blogs, etc. I certainly appreciate their point of view – but I’m finding a more nuanced perspective on this question is more appropriate for me.

What I’m finding is that when I invoke AI to help me explore a topic, an idea, etc. that the result will almost always open up my thinking by exposing me to things, ideas, etc. that I hadn’t considered. In so doing, I come away feeling “richer” in the sense that I’ve learned – and not simply written – in the process. How I use the work product created by the AI varies – sometimes it’s helpful in critiquing something I’ve written. Other times I use it to help me better understand something – or explore by stepping outside my own brain.

Here’s an example from some exploring I did this morning. During my morning review of my Kindle book highlights using Readwise, I came across a quotation from Mollick’s book that I highlighted:

“If you can link disparate ideas from multiple fields and add a little random creativity, you might be able to create something new.” (Ethan Mollick, Co-Intelligence)

I love the idea of how creativity is influenced by the often seemingly random interconnections between ideas – and this quote concisely made that point. I wanted to explore this further so I asked Claude Sonnet to help me by writing an article in the style of author John McPhee that’s based on the quote. Here’s the exact prompt I used with Claude:

You are an expert writer in the style of John McPhee. You are helping me write interesting articles for my blog. Create a 750 word draft article for my blog based on the following quotation: “If you can link disparate ideas from multiple fields and add a little random creativity, you might be able to create something new.” (Ethan Mollick, Co-Intelligence)

I’ve been finding that Claude often does a more creative form of writing as compared to other chatbots. The article that Claude returned in response to my prompt really surprised me – so much so that I thought I’d just share it directly here.

So here we go…the following wasn’t written by me – rather, it was co-created based on a prompt from me and written by my co-intelligent partner Claude.

The Art of Cross-Pollination: Cultivating Innovation in Unlikely Places

In the verdant fields of central New Jersey, not far from where I sit typing these words, a peculiar ritual unfolds each spring. Farmers, their hands calloused from generations of working the land, don white protective suits that make them look more like astronauts than agriculturists. They move deliberately through their orchards, carrying small paintbrushes and vials of pollen.

These are the pear farmers of Mercer County, and they’re engaged in a practice as old as agriculture itself: cross-pollination. But why, you might ask, are they doing by hand what bees have done for millennia? The answer lies in the delicate biology of pear trees and the fickle nature of their reproduction.

Pear trees, it turns out, are notoriously poor self-pollinators. To produce fruit, they need pollen from a different variety of pear tree. But pear blossoms produce relatively little nectar, making them unattractive to bees. So these farmers, in their space-age suits, play the role of bees, manually transferring pollen from one variety to another, ensuring a bountiful harvest come autumn.

As I watched this process unfold on a crisp April morning, I was struck by a quote I’d recently encountered from Ethan Mollick, a professor at the Wharton School: “If you can link disparate ideas from multiple fields and add a little random creativity, you might be able to create something new.”

The pear farmers of Mercer County, in their own way, embody this principle. They’ve taken an idea from one field (entomology) and applied it to another (agriculture), adding their own creative twist (the paintbrushes and protective suits). The result? A thriving pear industry in a region where it might otherwise be impossible.

This concept of cross-pollination – of ideas rather than pollen – is not unique to agriculture. In fact, it’s a principle that underpins much of human innovation and creativity.

Consider, for a moment, the work of Frances Glessner Lee, often called the “mother of forensic science.” Lee was born into wealth in the late 19th century and, like many women of her social standing, was skilled in the domestic arts, particularly miniature-making. But Lee had a passion for criminal investigation, nurtured by her friendship with George Burgess Magrath, a medical examiner.

In the 1940s, Lee combined these seemingly disparate interests to create the Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death – intricately detailed dioramas of crime scenes used to train detectives. These miniature crime scenes, built with the precision of a dollhouse maker but imbued with the gruesome details of a murder scene, revolutionized forensic training. Lee had taken skills from the traditionally feminine world of crafts and applied them to the male-dominated field of criminal investigation, creating something entirely new and profoundly useful in the process.

This principle of creative cross-pollination extends far beyond the realms of agriculture and crime scene investigation. The history of human progress is littered with examples of innovations born from the unlikely marriage of disparate fields.

Take, for instance, the development of GPS technology. The seeds of this now-ubiquitous system were planted when physicists William Guier and George Weiffenbach at the Johns Hopkins Applied Physics Laboratory realized they could track the Soviet Sputnik satellite by monitoring its radio transmissions. This was an impressive feat in itself, but it was their colleague Frank McClure who made the cognitive leap that would change the world. McClure realized that if the scientists could track a satellite from the ground, they could also use satellites to track positions on the ground.

This insight – born from the collision of rocket science, radio engineering, and a healthy dose of Cold War paranoia – led to the development of the Transit system, the precursor to modern GPS. Today, this technology guides everything from missile systems to the smartphone in your pocket, all because a group of scientists were able to flip their perspective and see their work from a new angle.

But perhaps the most striking example of creative cross-pollination comes from the field of medicine. In the early 1940s, a Scottish bacteriologist named Alexander Fleming was researching influenza. One day, he noticed that mold had contaminated one of his petri dishes – a common enough occurrence in a microbiology lab. But Fleming observed something unusual: the area around the mold was clear of bacteria.

This chance observation, combined with Fleming’s willingness to investigate rather than simply discard the contaminated sample, led to the discovery of penicillin. Fleming had linked the disparate fields of mycology and bacteriology, added a dash of serendipity, and created something that would revolutionize medicine and save countless lives.

As we navigate an increasingly complex and interconnected world, the ability to cross-pollinate ideas from different fields becomes ever more crucial. The challenges we face – from climate change to antibiotic resistance – are too complex to be solved within the confines of a single discipline.

So perhaps we should all take a cue from the pear farmers of Mercer County. Don our metaphorical protective suits, pick up our idea-paintbrushes, and venture into unfamiliar orchards of thought. For it’s in these unlikely places, where disparate ideas collide and combine, that the seeds of innovation are sown.

Categories
Creativity Living Thinking Tools

The Danger of Getting Lost in the Details

In a world that often celebrates specialization and highly values deep expertise, David Epstein’s words in his book “Range” come as a refreshing challenge to conventional wisdom. “Focusing narrowly on many fine details specific to a problem at hand feels like the exact right thing to do, when it is often exactly wrong,” he says, inviting us to reconsider how we approach problem-solving.

At first glance, this statement might seem counterintuitive. After all, isn’t attention to detail a virtue? Don’t we praise those who can dive deep into a subject, mastering its intricacies? While there’s undoubtedly value in specialized knowledge, Epstein’s quote highlights a potential pitfall: the danger of becoming so engrossed in the minutiae that we lose sight of the bigger picture. In my career, I was often considered the “expert” but I came to appreciate just how often the “tyranny of the expert” might apply to specific situations.

This narrow focus can lead to what psychologists call “functional fixedness” — an inability to see alternative uses for objects or ideas beyond their intended purpose. In problem-solving, this shows up as a tendency to approach challenges using only the most obvious or familiar methods, missing innovative solutions that usually lie just outside our immediate field of vision.

Moreover, an overly specific focus can blind us to valuable insights from other domains. Some of history’s most groundbreaking discoveries and innovations have come from interdisciplinary thinking — the ability to connect dots between seemingly unrelated fields.

Epstein’s quote also speaks to the value of generalism in an age of hyper-specialization. While specialists undoubtedly play crucial roles in advancing knowledge within their fields, generalists — those with a broad base of knowledge and diverse experiences — often excel at adapting to new situations and connecting disparate ideas in novel ways.

This isn’t to say that attention to detail and specialized knowledge aren’t important. Rather, Epstein’s words encourage us to balance depth with breadth, to zoom out periodically and consider the wider context of our problems and goals. It’s about developing what F. Scott Fitzgerald called a “first-rate intelligence” — the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind simultaneously and still retain the ability to function.

In practice, this might mean deliberately exposing ourselves to ideas and experiences outside our comfort zones. It could involve collaborating with people from different backgrounds or disciplines. Or it might simply mean taking a step back when we feel stuck, asking ourselves if we’re so focused on the trees that we’re missing the forest. In a group setting, encouraging this kind of wide ranging thinking – without being unnecessarily critical too quickly – can often yield new insights. For example, as a board member, I was often struck by the power of group collaboration when trying to work through a difficult problem.

Ultimately, Epstein’s quote is a call to embrace a more holistic, flexible approach to thinking and problem-solving. By resisting the urge to dive immediately into the details and instead considering the broader context, we open ourselves up to more creative solutions and a richer understanding of the world around us.

So how can we put Epstein’s advice into practice? Here are five actionable steps to consider for broadening your perspective and enhancing your problem-solving abilities:

  1. Cross-pollinate your interests: Deliberately explore a field entirely unrelated to your primary area of expertise. If you’re in tech, try taking an art class. If you’re in finance, learn about ecology. These seemingly unrelated pursuits can spark unexpected connections and insights. As an example, the Santa Fe Institute’s work in complex adaptive systems was inspired by the intersection of biology and economics.
  2. Embrace the “beginner’s mind”: Regularly put yourself in situations where you’re a novice. This could mean learning a new language, picking up a musical instrument, or trying almost anything new. The discomfort of being a beginner can reignite your curiosity and open your mind to new ways of thinking. But this also requires commitment and a willingness to withhold early judgement.
  3. Diversify your network: Actively seek out relationships with people from different professional backgrounds, cultures, and age groups. Engage in conversations that challenge your assumptions and expose you to diverse perspectives. Unfortunately, today’s social media tools seem to drive us in just the opposite direction – clustering us online with those who share our existing points of view rather than exposing us to new ideas.
  4. Practice interdisciplinary problem-solving: When faced with a challenge, try approaching it from multiple angles. Consider how professionals from different fields might tackle the problem. This exercise can help you break free from habitual thinking patterns. Again this requires stepping outside our normal behavior – in particular, we need to feel we can take the extra time that such an approach demands.
  5. Schedule regular “zoom-out” sessions: Set aside time periodically to step back from the details of your work or life challenges. Ask yourself big-picture questions like “What’s the ultimate goal here?” or “How does this fit into the larger context?” This habit can help prevent you from getting lost in the minutiae and maintain a broader perspective. Periodic life reviews (quarterly, annually) can provide good opportunities for this kind of evaluation and help facilitate our wandering.

These practices can help cultivate a more versatile, adaptable mindset that helps us live and enjoy a better life.

Categories
Books Connections Creativity Innovation

Boom! Unintended Consequences: From Dynamite to the FBI

In his latest book, The Infernal Machine: A True Story of Dynamite, Terror, and the Rise of the Modern Detective, Steven Johnson explores a fascinating paradox: Alfred Nobel, the inventor of dynamite and founder of the Nobel Peace Prize, unwittingly provided a weapon for radical anarchists. Nobel, seeking a safe way to harness the power of nitroglycerin for infrastructure projects, unleashed a destructive force that could be wielded by a single individual.

The chaos caused by anarchist bombings sparked a national outcry for a more sophisticated federal response to crime.Enter a young J. Edgar Hoover, who at the time was a rising star in the Bureau of Investigation (BOI), a precursor to the FBI. Hoover, with his keen eye for organization and ambition, saw the anarchist threat as an opportunity to transform the BOI into a powerful national agency. Johnson explores how the BOI’s pursuit of anarchists under Hoover’s leadership laid the groundwork for the FBI’s methods and tactics. While effective in capturing some dangerous criminals, these tactics also foreshadowed the FBI’s later controversies surrounding surveillance and civil liberties.

The chilling irony is that the fight against anarchists fueled by dynamite led to the very surveillance methods we grapple with today, a legacy with both significant benefits and sometimes serious drawbacks.

Johnson, a master storyteller, weaves these narratives together in a way that reminds me of another historical connector,James Burke, and his classic series “Connections.” Both shine a light on the unexpected ways seemingly unrelated events can be deeply intertwined.

Categories
Creativity Writing

Dropped Call

Note: I’m attending a creative writing workshop and this is a recent fictional piece I’ve written.

I put the phone on my leg briefly so I could check myself in the mirror before opening the door and heading into the supermarket.

I put on my hat. Opened the door. Oops. I heard the clunk. A clunk that would haunt me for the next hour.

Was that my phone? Where was my phone anyway? I looked at the usual spot on the center console where I kept the charging cable so I could keep the phone charged up. But charging wasn’t my worry now. I stood up and patted my pockets. No phone.

Then I dawned on me. I had put the phone on my leg and it must have slid off as I opened the door and got out.

I got back in the car and looked down the right side of the seat. I couldn’t see the phone. It must have slid further behind something. Too bad Find My Friends can’t give the thing legs or something so it could pull itself out of whatever it had gotten itself into down there!

I seemed to recall some memory about an admonition on flights to not move the seat if your phone fell down. Something about how moving the seat might cause the battery to explode. Wonderful. Last thing I need is a front seat explosion in this damn car.

Fortunately, my car was a four door so I might be able to see under the seat from behind. I gave that a try. Still no dice. Or, rather, no phone. Nowhere to be found.

If I could call my wife I’d ask her to call me and then I’d be able to hear the ringer and maybe find it easier. But I couldn’t call my wife without my phone. Duh.

Maybe I could ask a stranger to call my phone. How would I feel about somebody coming up to me in the parking lot and asking me to call some strange number? Would I be a Good Samaritan? Probably not. Anyway, there weren’t a lot of people around. It was late and the parking lot wasn’t very well lit.

Oh, maybe I should just drive home and then my wife could call my phone. So that’s what I did. When I got home I came up the stairs – empty handed. Where are the groceries she asked? Oh, I wasn’t able to get the groceries. I lost my phone. Whaddya mean you lost your phone? Well it fell on the floor and I can’t find it. Can you please call it for me? But wait until I get back downstairs and into my car.

So she did. She waited, I went downstairs and got in the car. She followed me down, then she called. By now she was standing right outside my car door looking at me like some goofball. I heard the ringing. It wasn’t coming from behind the front seat. It was coming from down below me – sort of in front. I had to get out of the car to look. I got down on my knees and stuck my head inside – and there it was, under my seat. Blinking and ringing away.

Hello I said. Reunited we were.

Categories
Creativity Living

In Praise of Ignorance: A Catalyst for Creativity

For many years, my career was based on being an “expert” – a go-to consultant who knew his subject area in great detail, who studied and later taught its history, and who specialized in being an expert specialist. Along the way, I became sensitive to the notion “tyranny of the expert” advocated by some who preferred to avoid involving specialist experts like me in projects that I felt would clearly benefit from my skills and expertise.

This morning, one of my Readwise highlights came from Rick Rubin’s recent book. Reading that highlight brought back to mind that notion of the “tyranny of the expert” – and result in me asking Claude 3 for some help composing a musing on this notion more broadly defined as “beginner’s mind”. Here’s the musing – lightly edited by me. Q. Where are you applying your ignorance today?

Rick Rubin invites us to challenge our preconceptions and consider the liberating potential of a beginner’s mind. In a world that often prizes expertise and specialized knowledge, the idea of embracing ignorance as a pathway to progress might seem counterintuitive.

At the core of Rubin’s statement lies the notion that knowledge, while invaluable, can sometimes become a barrier to innovation and growth. When we approach a task or challenge with a wealth of preexisting knowledge, we may inadvertently erect barricades of assumptions, biases, and preconceived notions that limit our ability to think outside the box. These barricades can be self-imposed, as we unconsciously filter new information through the lens of what we already know, or they can be imposed by the weight of conventional wisdom and established practices within a field.

In contrast, ignorance can be a potent force for creativity and progress. When we approach a task with a blank slate, unencumbered by the baggage of prior knowledge, we are more likely to approach it with a sense of curiosity and open-mindedness. We are free to ask questions that may seem naive to the initiated but can potentially lead to fresh perspectives and innovative solutions. Ignorance, in this sense, becomes a canvas upon which we can paint new ideas without the constraints of established paradigms.

This idea is not new; in fact, it echoes the concepts of beginner’s mind and shoshin, central tenets in Zen Buddhism. These principles encourage practitioners to approach each experience with a fresh, open mind, free from preconceptions and prejudices. By embracing a state of not-knowing, we become more receptive to the present moment, allowing us to perceive things as they truly are, rather than through the filter of our expectations and assumptions.

The power of ignorance can be observed in various fields, from science and technology to art and literature. Consider the case of outsiders who have revolutionized entire disciplines by approaching them with a fresh, unencumbered perspective. Albert Einstein, for instance, challenged the very foundations of physics with his groundbreaking theories, which emerged from his ability to question longstanding assumptions about the nature of space, time, and gravity.

In the realm of art, naïve artists, untrained in formal techniques and unburdened by the weight of traditional art education, have produced works that defy conventions and challenge our perceptions of what constitutes “art.” Their ignorance of the rules and norms of the art world has paradoxically allowed them to create works that are truly original and avant-garde.

Of course, ignorance alone is not a panacea for progress. It must be accompanied by a willingness to learn, a curiosity to explore, and a commitment to mastering the necessary skills and knowledge required to bring one’s ideas to fruition. Ignorance, in this context, is not a permanent state but rather a temporary suspension of preconceived notions, a stepping stone towards new understanding and growth.

In our fast-paced, information-saturated world, where knowledge is readily accessible and expertise is often valued above all else, Rubin’s quote serves as a timely reminder to embrace the power of not-knowing. By approaching tasks and challenges with a beginner’s mind, we may just find the key to unlocking the barricades of knowledge that have been holding us back, and discover new paths to progress and innovation.

Categories
AI AI: Large Language Models Claude Creativity Writing

Unleashing Creativity: Separating the Acts of Making and Refining

I was speaking with a friend over the weekend who remarked to me how he has been using a workflow including dictation for writing his blog posts. This morning I happened across the following quote from author Kevin Kelly in my Readwise highlights feed:

“Separate the processes of creating from improving. You can’t write and edit or sculpt and polish or make and analyze at the same time. If you do, the editor stops the creator. While you invent, don’t select. While you sketch, don’t inspect. While you write the first draft, don’t reflect. At the start, the creator mind must be unleashed from judgment.”

Kevin Kelly, Excellent Advice for Living

Using Claude, I asked it to help me write this post. I used the following prompt:

Write a 750 word musing on the following quote. I would like to discuss a workflow that begins with initial idea capture followed by creating a mind map and letting that incubate for a few days. Then use dictation to create a first draft which happens faster than typing and with less mental editing. Then return to the keyboard for actual editing.

Here’s the final result I created which uses some initial writing from Claude which I then edited and revised to include some more specific details not the steps, tools, etc. for this workflow. I also used the title above that Claude proposed and I used Claude to generate a list of 25 keywords to associated with this post.

The creative process is a delicate dance between unbridled expression and careful refinement. Too often, we allow the inner critic to stifle our ideas before they’ve even had a chance to bloom, leading to a stagnant and stilted creative output. However, as Kevin Kelly wisely advises in the quote above, separating the processes of creating and improving can unlock a more organic and fruitful creative flow.

The initial idea capture is akin to planting a seed – a fragile yet promising spark of inspiration that requires nurturing and space to grow. In this stage, the mind should be free to wander, unencumbered by the weight of judgment or the pressure to produce a polished work. Allowing ourselves to simply jot down thoughts, scribble doodles, or record voice memos without censorship can be a liberating experience, inviting a torrent of raw creativity.

Once these seedlings of ideas have been gathered, the next step is to create a mind map – a visual representation that allows us to explore the connections and relationships between our initial thoughts. This process of organizing and expanding upon our ideas can be likened to tending a garden, where we prune away unnecessary branches and encourage the growth of the most promising shoots.

Letting the mind map incubate for a few days is akin to allowing the garden to flourish under the sun’s nourishing rays. During this period of mental rest, our subconscious continues to work behind the scenes, strengthening the connections and filling in the gaps. It is here that the magic of “slow hunches” can take root – those gradual insights and revelations that emerge organically as we revisit and ruminate on our mind maps over time. These slow hunches can open up entirely new avenues of thought, or shed light on the hidden paths connecting our scattered ideas.

Enter dictation, a powerful tool that allows us to harness the power of spoken word and let our ideas flow uninhibited. Unlike typing, which can sometimes feel like a bottleneck for our thoughts, dictation encourages a more natural and rapid expression, capturing the raw essence of our creativity before the inner editor has a chance to intervene. During this phase, we can use our work on the mind map to drive and inspire our first draft, letting the organized structure of our thoughts guide our verbal expression.

The resulting first draft is akin to a rough sketch or a sculptor’s initial clay form – a malleable and imperfect representation of our vision, but one that holds the promise of something greater. It is at this stage that we can finally invite the editor to the table, allowing ourselves to step back and critically analyze our work with a fresh perspective.

Returning to the keyboard for editing is like picking up the chisel and carefully sculpting the final form. We can refine our language, restructure our thoughts, and polish our ideas until they shine, all while maintaining a respectful distance from the initial creative spark that ignited the process.

By separating the processes of creating and improving, we honor the unique strengths and needs of each stage, allowing our ideas to flourish and our creativity to flow without unnecessary constraints. The initial idea capture and mind mapping foster uninhibited exploration, while the incubation period nurtures those elusive “slow hunches.” Dictation then provides a rapid and unfiltered avenue for expressing our matured thoughts, guided by the framework provided in our mind map. Finally, the editing phase allows us to refine and polish our work, transforming our raw creativity into a polished and cohesive final product.

In a world that often demands immediate perfection, embracing this workflow can be a liberating and empowering experience, reminding us that true creativity thrives when given the space to breathe and evolve. By separating the processes of creating and improving, we not only honor the integrity of our ideas but also cultivate a deeper appreciation for the rich tapestry of the creative journey itself – one that is woven with flashes of brilliance, patient nurturing, and the magical unfolding of our “slow hunches.”

Summary of Steps:

  1. Initial idea capture – let ideas flow freely without judgment. Using a tool like Drafts (iOS, iPadOS, Mac) allows quick capture even using an Apple Watch.
  2. Create a mind map to visually organize and expand on ideas. As you create your initial mind map, capture new thoughts that get triggered and place them appropriately near others.
  3. Let the mind map incubate for a few days to allow “slow hunches” to emerge. Your mind will continue “noodling” on the idea and each time you re-open the mind map you may trigger new insights you want to add or adjust.
  4. Use dictation to rapidly capture a first draft, using the mind map to drive and inspire the content. Just talk out your thoughts without any effort at editing them.
  5. Return to the keyboard for editing the first draft, refining and polishing the work. Let the edited draft sit for a few days. Reopen it a couple of times with fresh eyes and edit, usually removing words to tighten up the clarity of your thoughts.
Categories
Creativity Writing

Beyond the Backdrop: Crafting Fiction

Michael Lewis recently interviewed author Amor Towles and the New Orleans Book Festival. They had a great conversation and I highly recommend it (YouTube video)!

Near the end of the conversation with Lewis, Towles shares an explanation of the role history plays in his writing. Turns out he’s shared this explanation many other times during other book talks.

Here’s a rough recap of his explanation:

Imagine that you’re in a theater and you’re about to see is stage play. Let’s say it’s a play of Chekhov’s “The Cherry Orchard.” What you’re looking at is a living room of a wealthy Russian estate in the countryside with fine furniture. At the back of the room are two French doors, and if you look through them into the distance, you can see the cherry orchard itself. It’s spring, and the trees are in bloom, and you can see the blossoms.

What you’re looking at, of course, when you look across the stage through the French doors, is actually a painted canvas behind the doors. That’s the way a set crew will make a backdrop – they’re going to paint a picture of this orchard and drop it behind the doors. They will not paint it in a hyperrealist style but in an impressionist style like Renoir or Monet, because that’s what’s going to look right to the natural eye at that distance. It should look a little blurry to give the feeling that it’s afternoon. Maybe the blossoms look like they are even moving in the breeze.

In front of that, on either side of the French doors, are bookcases made out of plywood and painted to look like mahogany. On one side is a staircase that goes up to nothing, and on the other is a door that goes nowhere. All a part of the stage set.

But in front of all that is an actual table surrounded by actual chairs, and on the table is an actual china tea service.

It is very important that these things be actual because let’s say that there’s a sister sitting at the table having tea alone, and the brother slams this door as he comes in, stomping across this stage. He’s clearly in high emotion, and what we want to hear is the physicality of the wooden legs scraping across the wooden surface of the stage when he pulls back that chair to sit down and pulls himself up. When he slaps the surface of the table to make a point, we want to hear the physicality of that contact. And when the sister delicately, patiently puts down her teacup, we want to hear that gentle clink of the china on china. It’s very important that these things be real because that’s what allows us in the audience to focus on this moment in a very precise way.

For Towles, history is the painted backdrop, and he’s not interested in describing that in a hyperrealist style. He gives it an impressionist style because the role of history in his work is to provide a sense of time, of place, of mood – but that’s it.

Now in front of that, sits a lot of plywood that’s been painted to look like mahogany. This stuff he hopes makes you pause and ask “Did that actually happen or did he make that up?”

But in front of all that is the actual table and chairs. Just like in the play, it’s very important that that be very real to you. They should be so real to you that when you’re reading a scene around that table, you feel like you’re sitting at the table, and that you can read the changes in expression on the faces of the brother and sister. You can hear the nuances in their voices as they exchange their ideas and sentiments. It’s very important that this feel real to you because that’s actually where all of the action is.

Towles’ theatrical metaphor perfectly captures the essence of crafting historical fiction. History serves as the evocative backdrop, transporting readers to a specific era without getting bogged down in minutiae. This allows space for the reader’s imagination to flourish, fostering a deeper connection with the story. Towles’ intention is not to deliver a history lesson, but to create a believable atmosphere where characters and their narratives can truly shine.

At the heart of action is that single table with the china tea setting – the piece of the set that is startlingly, undeniably real. When the brother slams through the door in raging emotion, we don’t just want to see the movement – we must hear the grating screech of wooden chair legs against wooden floor. As the distressed sister delicately replaces her teacup in its saucer, that gentle clink of china on china must sing out and resonate.

Towles’s theatrical metaphor is a profound reminder that an author’s role is to create an immersive staging ground where characters can indisputably come to life for the audience. But the author’s craft is only fully realized when the players succeed in elevating the audience’s emotional experience from that of witness to full-fledged participant, intimately sharing the lives captured in that snapshot of illuminated reality.

Have you ever been swept away by a historical fiction novel that transported you to another time and place? If so, then you’ve likely experienced the magic that Amor Towles weaves with his words. Dive into one of Towles’ captivating novels and witness firsthand how he masterfully brings the past to life on the stage of his imagination. Perhaps, inspired by Towles’ approach, you’ll even pick up a pen and explore crafting your own fiction masterpiece.

Regardless, the next time you lose yourself in a captivating period drama, remember the artistry behind the scenes — the meticulous construction of a believable world where timeless human emotions take center stage.

Suggestion: start reading Amor Towles with his first novel: Rules of Civility

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Creativity

Be the Only!

Kottke blogged this week about Kevin Kelly’s book Excellent Advice for Living: Wisdom I Wish I’d Known Earlier and one of the top tips in that book that Kelly has talked about in several interviews he’s given about the book:

Don’t be the best. Be the only.

Kelly’s advice stands apart from the common wisdom that we should always strive to be the best by doing our utmost. In a world that constantly pushes us to compete and compare, there is something incredibly freeing about the notion of rejecting that rat race entirely.

“Don’t be the best, be the only” is a reminder that true success and fulfillment often come from carving your own unique path, rather than trying to climb to the top of someone else’s ladder.

It’s an idea that deeply resonates for any creative soul who has felt the sting of having their work measured and ranked against arbitrary standards and tastes. How can you be the “best” writer when writing is so subjective? The “best” artist when art is meant to provoke different responses in different viewers? We secretly know that concepts of better and best are flawed when it comes to creative expression.

And yet, we are conditioned nearly from birth to see life as a competition – to be smarter, prettier, more accomplished than our peers. We are repeatedly asked by teachers, parents, employers, “What makes you the best candidate?” As if we must relentlessly pursue that elusive #1 spot, which can only have one holder at a time until someone new swipes it away.

What a profoundly different and enlivening perspective to simply say, “I’m not chasing ‘best.’ My goal is to be the ‘only.'” Not better, but different. To create a novel blend of vision and craft that is utterly new and unlike any other offering in the world.

It means doubling down on what makes you unique rather than tempering those interesting edges to fit conventional molds. It means zigging when others zag, embracing your personal quirks and experiences as puzzle pieces that culminate in a new shape. One that perhaps only you could construct.

There is a deep self-knowledge required to get there, an ability to tune out the noise in our mind that is always eager to tell us where we fall short and what we must do to be validated. Instead, go further inward and listen to the quiet hum of your own creativity, allowing it to guide you towards a novel magic that only you can create.

It’s an incredibly brave and almost defiant stance. A willing abdication of the endless pecking order tournaments we are drafted into throughout life. A saying of, “I do not want to be ranked or graded. My work and expression will be something wholly original that becomes a new category unto itself.”

In Kelly’s case, being an “only” seems to have stemmed from zealously pursuing a wide range of kaleidoscopic interests, starting unique initiatives, peering over the horizon, and connecting disparate dots that others missed.

Perhaps the greatest challenge in striving to “be the only” is having the courage to stay true to your unique vision, even when it defies conventional wisdom or expectations. It requires an unwavering belief in your distinctive voice and the patience to carve out your own path, one peculiar step at a time. Those who achieve that rarefied space of being truly inimitable likely navigate long periods of being misunderstood or underestimated before their original perspectives start to resonate.

Ultimately, the pursuit of “only” is about more than just creative success – it’s about living and working with uncompromising authenticity. About being willing to be misunderstood by others, sometimes by harsh critics who’d rather see you struggle. When you stop measuring yourself against external yardsticks and wholeheartedly embrace what makes you your own idiosyncratic self, you open up vast frontiers of possibility. You give yourself permission to be precisely who you are, to contribute the unique only you can offer this world. And perhaps, in doing so, you’ll inspire others to boldly cherish and amplify their own distinctive brilliance as well.

Categories
Creativity Tools Writing

The Untamed Genius of Not Thinking: Bradbury, Creativity and the Two Minds

“Don’t think.” At first glance, Ray Bradbury’s famous advice on the creative act seems almost heretical. How can we create anything of substance, anything brilliant and transcendent, without deep cognitive focus and analytical thinking?

And yet, there is profound wisdom in Bradbury’s deceptively simple directive when we consider what true creativity demands – a willingness to surrender to the uncharted waters of the unconscious mind, to temporarily disengage from the constraints of pure rationality, and allow the kaleidoscopic shards of our imagination to swirl and coalesce into novel, unorthodox forms.

For Bradbury’s “Don’t think” is not advocating mindlessness, but rather a state of expansive awareness, a openness to the unbridled torrent of insights, images and ideas that bubble up from the our mind’s depths when we stop trying to consciously control and direct the creative flow. It is the practiced meditation of clearing one’s mind to simply observe thoughts, associations and impressions to let them arise and fall away without judgement.

What Bradbury observed is that the act of conscious, analytical thinking, while critical for problem-solving, can actually impede the creative process. It tends to force us into our pre-existing neural pathways, compelling us to tread the well-worn grooves of prior patterns, making linear associations along very predictable lines. Creativity, on the other hand, beckons us into the wild underbrush of our minds, off the beaten path, into uncharted realms where we can be liberated from our self-imposed boundaries.

There’s a connection between Bradbury’s advice and the concepts of right brain vs. left brain thinking. The left hemisphere is the seat of our logical, sequential, linguistic reasoning – the part of our mind that categorizes, defines, organizes and scrutinizes details. Our right brain, in contrast, is the hub of intuition, holistic perception, innovation and making new associations between disparate concepts.

When Bradbury said “Don’t think,” he was advocating taking a temporary pause from our left-brain dominance to allow the ingenious talents of our right brain to take primacy – to let it make unexpected leaps of creative fancy, to perceive reality from new angles, to connect ideas through metaphor and visual imagery rather than getting bogged down in deep analytical scrutiny. To let it just jam.

Our left brain’s vital role is not eliminated, of course. Both hemispheres ultimately work in concert. But for tapping into a more creative flow, giving the reins to the right brain’s propensity for unrestrained imagination and divergent thinking can open up new spheres of inspiration, unconstrained by us overthinking analytically.

From this space of simply allowing our mind to widely wander and make new neural associations, true creative breakthroughs are often born. As Bradbury knew, sometimes the greatest innovative genius emerges not from perspiration and analytical rigor, but from setting aside focused thought altogether and trusting the untamed wisdom of the unconscious, innovative mind. Taking a break and going for a walk outside has a way of helping open up that process, lifting our mood and opening us up to new insights and connections.

“Don’t think” is a refreshing perspective on the richness of human cognition. It recognizes the vital role of holistic, nonlinear and imaginative modes of processing – aspects of our mindful intelligence often overshadowed by our pure left-brain rationality. Bradbury’s imperative frees us to fully embrace the kaleidoscopic potency of our creative right minds.