Letter 42: October 20, 2008: The Slow Ascent Of Wooded Hills
Happy ideas come particularly readily during the slow ascent of wooded hills on a sunny day - Helmholtz
In response to Letter 37 (the one about writing as a social act) a reader writes: "You are so right - it's a way to 'be in contact with others without having to make small talk.' I like that. I'm definitely an introvert, but few people I know (or am willing to spend any time at all with) realize it, until they've spent quite a bit of time with me or have seen me react to a crowd of people... I like people just fine - some people, and in small doses. Put me in a room full of people, and I will talk to one at a time quite happily, but if all the corners of the room are occupied, I may fall strangely silent… On the OTHER hand, I can't imagine writing 'only for myself'... Writing used to take time enough to necessitate reflection before response. Nowadays, it doesn't - but it's easier to walk away from a thoughtless response."
And, strangely, reflection before response is what I wanted to comment on today. What force drove me to re-read that comment five weeks later, exactly when it was relevant to what I'm planning to write? Lets' talk about that, too.
A popular model of creativity that we haven't looked at before goes like this: preparation--> incubation--> illumination--> verification. These four words were first used by Graham Wallas in 1926. I'm working on a major research proposal in which I need to cite Wallas's book, so of course I got hold of a copy (with difficulty - even though I have access to the libraries of at least three universities around Los Angeles, I eventually borrowed it by mail from Washington State). I do that mostly just to be able to say I have actually read what I'm quoting, but sometimes a book will grab my attention. And this was one of those.
Wallas argues for the importance of the "incubation" period. Constant work, as encouraged by grade schools and most employers, is not conducive to the best quality results. Now if you've ever worked in the public service in close contact with democratically appointed leaders, you'll be used to the habit of walking around with a random handful of papers so that you look as though you're doing something. What an appallingly schoolboyish thing to be forced to do when you're, say, 45. Because the truth is, as you already know, that the best writing and the best creativity and the best thought often happen when you don't look as though you're doing anything. Grown-ups should be encouraged to act accordingly. Let me invite you - just in case it happens to be a challenge for you sometimes - not to feel guilty about going for an innocent walk.
So Wallas points to great people who leave the essential work for the end of the day, not through procrastination but to let their answers mature. He points to stories (the same ones everyone tells, but I think maybe he did it first) of great scientists who had their best ideas on vacation. He points to academics who have to spend much of their time of administration that could be done by someone else - a complaint still heard today.
My point? Some of the important ideas floating around today are far from new, and yet are still unimplemented. How sad. (But at least there's a constant opportunity for business and other authors to recycle each other's self-help prescriptions decade after decade. I have a book proposal maturing at the back of my mind which is an unashamed recycling of an idea 2,500 years old, and I'm not kidding you.)
And finally, my suggestion for your week is this: permit writing to take as much time as you have. Writing your document at the last minute is ok. But to make that work, first promise me you'll do this: Something you can try today: look at each writing project thoroughly as early as possible, understand the problem, and then you can do something else for a while.
David
David Jung McGarva
+1 (818) 707 1871
Write me: david at todayiwrite dot com
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