Creative Minds

The Art Of Actually Thinking Randomly

It’s practically become my best way to develop a story

I’ve written before about how my brain works early in the morning when I’m sipping coffee and pondering. I know, it’s a scary thing, the interworkings of my mind. Certainly not for the faint of heart.

Let’s just say I recently sent some of my random thoughts to Stephen King for his next work, and he sent back the name of a noted therapist who specializes in schizophrenia.

Okay, maybe I made that last part up. Maybe.

You see, I have what I like to call a dog brain. I typically like to sit out on the back porch, drink coffee, and think random thoughts. Nothing in particular really, just letting my noodle roam where it wants to. I liken it to an art form where my dog noodle brain comes back with a random thought, and I take it and throw it back into the void.

And with any properly trained dog, the expectation is that my dog brain will go fetch that thought and bring it back to me to inspect again before I toss it out yet again. This game of pitch and fetch continues until my dog brain latches onto something and chooses not to return it because it knows I’ll just toss it away like all the others.

Sometimes it digs a hole and buries that sucker so it can go back at a later time and chew on it.

But the random thought my brain continues to bring back to me over and over is usually the thought I choose to build on until viola, it becomes a story. Of course, the story idea might create the need to research a topic I’m unfamiliar with, and I’m totally cool with that. Or it could be something from my past, an emotion or feeling that was either good or painfully horrible.

Either way, the fetch becomes a thought, the thought becomes a story.

Now, for you cat lovers out there (I’m an equal opportunity animal lover), you’re probably wondering why I don’t use the cat brain portion of my noodle to do the same thing.

Really?

If you’re a cat lover or someone who is owned by a cat, you know they don’t, under any circumstances, fetch anything. Sure they may drop a battered field mouse or the bloodied carcass of a bird they just snagged in your lap. But they do so and look at you as if to say, “Hey, there’s your story. Deal with it.”

Positively not thinking randomly.

But one thing I’ve realized about — thinking — about — thinking — about nothing at all — is, the stories began to take shape a whole lot quicker when I don’t try to force it. Yes, it’s that old adage about if it don’t fit, don’t force it.

There have been many times over the years when I’ve struggled to come up with a particular idea I thought I wanted to write about, but my brain had other plans. Of course, I wouldn’t pay heed, and off I’d go hammering out a story, getting only halfway through before the wheels fell off the damned thing.

And then I’d just sit there and stare at a blank screen because I just trashed an entire mess of gobbledygook, and a tiny voice would slither to the forefront of my thoughts telling me, “you should have played toss and fetch with your dog brain this morning doofus.”

The art of actually thinking randomly works for me, but that certainly doesn’t mean it will work for you. Some folks may think this is kind of a panster approach to writing, but in actuality, it isn’t. I like to think of it as the development of a wireframe of a story.

Yes, instead of putting the outline on paper (which I seldom do), I build the sucker in my brain. Okay, maybe not all of it. I do at least create a draft and throw in the salient thoughts on the story.

Trust me on this one folks, it’s a far cry from an outline.

Still, there are plenty of times it becomes necessary for me to do a hell of a lot of research before I’m ready to start fleshing out that wireframe. Especially with my fiction work. My honey Sharon and I often will have several “fleshing out” sessions on a fiction series before we feel confident we have the story down well enough for me to write it.

Sometimes randomly thinking early in the morning helps that process as well. With a thought already in mind on where I’d like to take the story, playing toss and fetch with my dog brain is often more specific to the storyline my wife and I want to run with. I toss out a what-if scenario, and my noodle brings me back either the same scene for me to build on or something relatable that I’d not thought about.

It’s purely wonderous when my scary and quite random, thought process is firing on all cylinders. But there are days when the cat side of my brain takes over, and I spend several hours thinking about figuring out how to lick my back, spitting up fur balls, and playing with balls of yarn.

Totally unproductive.

So, for you hard-core purists out there who believe in dotting those I(s) and crossing those T(s) random thinking sessions each day may not be the way to go for you. I suppose each of us writers has their own way of coming up with what they want to write about each day.

In this case, to each their own really does mean to each their own.

But hey, if you’re struggling to come up with a thought to write about, then give not thinking about something to write about a try. Just let your dog brain wander around the cosmos sniffing fire hydrants and other dog brain’s poop. It may find some buried treasure you, and it can play toss and fetch with.

Of course, it may bring back a pissed-off squirrel. If that’s the case, stop thinking, call animal control, and think about something, anything but that damned squirrel.

Thank you so much for reading. You didn’t have to, but I’m certainly glad you did.

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© P.G. Barnett, 2020. All Rights Reserved.