Posts Tagged ‘creative’

Left and Right Brain balanced – wise man or muttonhead?

Saturday, March 27th, 2010

As a student, I was often told by a wise teacher that we needed to have balanced personalities, so that humanity would not tip the world over its axial tilt where it hangs precariously today, askew by about 23 degrees. That meant that we needed to keep our left (analytical) brain in sync with our right (creative) brain, and have one side always question the actions of the other because power on one side alone corrupts absolutely—so I was told. That is why there are two houses of parliament, a government and an opposition party in the colonial democracies, the division of powers in the USA, the Cold War, and so on.

As soon as I was able to figure this out, I enrolled to become an engineer and also signed up for a creative writing course. But I quickly ran into trouble. My math teacher told me that I was not enough of a linear thinker; I kept getting sidetracked with side-plots, and I always wanted to know “why?” My creative writing instructor called me a freak, because, frankly, “engineers did not become writers”—period—in his world! Besides, I was anal about plotting in those days and he wanted me to drift all over the place and get lost instead. My Myers Briggs personality scores were never consistent, because I was a NT (intuitive thinker) or a SP (sensory perceptive) depending on which mood I was in when I took that very reliable test.

I never became an engineer or a bestselling author in the end, although I worked in project management for a number of years and a few of my novels were published. When we hit a tough problem on a project, I took time out to tell my team a story that may have provided them some relief, or hinted at some answers. I like my short stories and novels to have a beginning, middle and an end. I could never be one of the “boys”, or even one of the “girls.” I was just a fringe dweller and even named one of my books after that moniker because I was so used to it applying to me. And as I progressed through life as a jack of all trades and a master of some, I wondered whether I was indeed a freak, or if the rest of the world was perhaps being a bit harsh due to its own shortcomings. I guess it’s easier to take a position and raise the flag for one side than to wonder what is really going on, on both sides.

But I also wonder if we care to develop both sides of our God-given brain, would the world be a lot different than it is today; more peaceful and understanding, more patient and tolerant, perhaps? “Use it or lose it,” they say; and between the artists and the engineers, we are losing a lot of wisdom due to one-sided brain power. Half-brained people are more inclined to take the easy way out and look externally for answers to questions that perplex them, and blame everyone else when the answers they find are not satisfactory to their one track thinking. Perhaps, all along those answers reside in the undeveloped side of their brains. What was that saying, “the Kingdom of God lives within you”? Ah, another side-plot worth investigating, much to my old math teacher’s chagrin…

Creative wells run dry – or do they?

Friday, February 12th, 2010

This week I completed the first draft of another novel. This one came out very slow, as if I were pulling out a premature baby, yet unwilling to be born. I have never suffered from writers block for too long to be bothered by it in the past. But this time, I wondered whether I was indeed heading for an overdue dose of that clap.

In the last nine years, I have written enough material for an equal number of books, three of which have been published to date and the others are lying in queue, biding their time to be born without cannibalizing their predecessors. I put this prolific surge down to the suppressed years when I pursued every other endeavour but writing, when I was gathering my material, my experiences, that I was to later fictionalize in the nine books. But now the well seems to have run dry. But has it?

I recently met a well known and respected author who blew me away when he told me that he had written over 180 books over the last 25 years. I clung to his every word during our meeting, trying to figure out how “he done it.” And his advice to me was that the fallow periods are also ones of creativity: when the mind is recording impressions, new experiences, and characters, and storing them away for later use. So, he concluded, never consider the writer’s block as the beginning of the end of the writer, but the beginning of a new beginning for the writer.

New experiences, eh? Does this mean that I have to take up bungee jumping, sky diving, wade through dissolute sexual escapades, experiment with drugs and fall dead drunk on the street more than a few times? I think not. I don’t have the energy or the tolerance for those antics. Should I get people to tell me their stories; put an ad in Facebook: “Tell me your story, and I’ll exaggerate it into a novel, confidentiality assured, fame not guaranteed, royalties—doubtful”? Or should I invent a genre character, like a detective, who I can bring back time and again, into the same milieu, with more or less the same number of dead bodies, with slight modifications to the character list and scene sequences, and assure myself of a string of novels long enough to last into my retirement and beyond? I could even create a plot wheel, like Edgar Wallace did, and spin it periodically when blocked, to see if it lands on “dead body # 3 found in library,” or “purloined letter discovered on suspect,” or “diamond tiara disappears at ball.”

Or should I just accept silence as a rite of passage and continue to observe the world more intently, stilling the mind from chatter, watching life that contains all the possible plots that have been hitherto concocted in literature, picking only the ones that make sense to me?

My prolific author acquaintance gave me some good advice that day. The Block is the start of a new beginning, when what has been written before is less significant and likened to apprenticeship school, a stepping stone towards what now can be written with more depth, texture and meaning.

I am not sure how long this dry spell will last, but I am content to ride it out with my eyes wide open and not miss the cues when novel # 10 begins to stare me in the face.