Going Input-Free or How to Stay Creative and Sane

In an earlier post, I wrote about how I’m intentional about filling my creative well during the day, whether by noticing visual art at my local coffee shop, listening to podcasts on interesting topics, or reading a few pages of a novel before bed. It’s creative input, and it helps me stay connected to right-brain pursuits.

But, increasingly, I need “no input” time, too–protected chunks of the day (however brief) to hear myself think. These are moments when I’m not listening to, or reading, anything. I’m purposely not taking in new data.

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It’s hard to find these no input minutes in our modern world, not just because “news” and trivia are the white noise in our public spaces, but also because we’re addicted to looking stuff up on our mobile devices. We stuff our brains with junk info–beyond its capacity–all the time.

Author, runner, and NPR show host Peter Sagal writes about preserving space in his day for no input. He says if he didn’t run without listening to music, he would have no timeĀ  when he wasn’t taking in data. This is crazy-making and has the potential to reduce productivity and peace. So, for a few minutes a day, he runs in silence. He lets his brain chew the food it’s already trying to digest instead of gorging it with more, more, more.

I’ve started keeping track of the times I could be going input-free but am choosing not to. I’m asking myself why I reach for my phone when I’m unable to process all that’s being hurdled at me. I’m taking a moment or two, several times a day, to mull over what’s already on my mind. I think it’s helping lower my anxiety.

At the very least, it’s helping me remember my limits.

 

Walking the Line

We live in chaotic times.

When it comes to reading fiction, do stressed-out people want an escape from reality to ease their minds? Do they want to see themselves represented on the page? vicariously live out the worst case scenario? fly to fairyland?

Many writers try to tap in to the zeitgeist to give readers what they want. And that’s good if it means they want to use their writing to help people. Or, you know, write books that’ll actually get read.

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The problem is, by the time they find out (and write) “what readers want,” those same readers want something different.

Artists walk the line between understanding readers’ desires and staying true to the stories they need to tell. These aren’t always at odds with one another, but sometimes they are.

So, when push comes to shove, what’s a writer to choose?

Well, you hear different things. But, at the end of the day, I believe writers tell the best stories when they go with their gut. Which is to say, I won’t be writing about zombies or post-Apocalyptic worlds any time soon, not because those kinds of stories are beneath me, but because I’m just not interested in them.

And if I’m not interested in my stories, how can I expect anyone else to be?

What do you think? Should writers be concerned, first and foremost, with what they think readers want?