Fueling Your Mind

How External Stimulation Can Fuel Your Creative Life

Liz Michalski

Stop writing. I mean it. Step away from the computer, put down your pen, and do something else. The best way to write well is, well, to not. At least for a while.

I discovered this by accident when I was writing my first novel, Evenfall. I’d gotten about one-third of the way through the story when I became stuck. I put it aside, and then life happened, by which I mean that I had a daughter, and then a son, on top of a fairly busy freelance calendar and a barn full of horses to care for. The novel got pushed to the side.

And yet, I found myself thinking about the characters, about where they were going, about how they would have looked against the background of Connecticut’s rolling hills, how they would have behaved in the old farmhouse I’d been hired to write about for the real estate section of a local magazine. When I was finally able to pick up the threads of that story again, I found I had something to say.

I’m not suggesting that for the sake of your art you have kids, as entertaining as I have found mine to be. Instead I’m suggesting that, for the sake of your art, you develop a life.

In some ways and compared to many other jobs, writing is a cakewalk. But it is also lonely and hard and discouraging and draining. Too many days in a row spent struggling to piece together your imaginary world will leave you gray around the edges, in dire need of recharging.

But therein lies the rub. For most of us, writing fiction is something we do on the sly, crushed in between the demands of real life and basic human needs such as food and maybe sleep. How can we possibly take any more time away from it, especially to do something as frivolous as feed our souls?

It’s not frivolous. I’ve found that if I don’t fill the well—find a way to replenish what I’ve put on the page—my writing becomes stale. I struggle to find the words, and my work loses vitality. I can only get it back by disconnecting from my imaginary world and spending some time in the real one.

If writing fatigue is hitting you, here are a few suggestions on how to refuel.

MAKE ART

I’ve found that when I’m blocked or tired of writing, working with my hands in a different medium can help me reset. Expressing yourself in ways other than with words can be powerful. What you make doesn’t have to be museum quality; it just has to be something you enjoy. My preference is for activities that pose enough challenge that my brain has to engage but aren’t so difficult that I become frustrated. Over the past few years, I’ve tried knitting (a disaster), photography (I love it, but I’m not good at it), and paper crafts (a small success). Even jigsaw puzzles can be enough to refresh my brain.

SUPPORT ART

Visit a museum. See a show. Watch a dance performance. Get inspired by how and what other people create, and use their energy to feed yours. It doesn’t have to be the Louvre to be interesting—almost every community has something to offer. In the past few months, for example, I’ve visited a local museum and learned the role immigrants played in the area’s textile industry, watched a modern dance performance, and caught a high school musical. In all three cases, I’ve come away amazed by the efforts of fellow artists, and my creative spark has been renewed.

EXERCISE—HARD

Jan O’Hara’s essay, “The Health and Maintenance of Writers,” includes a comprehensive roundup of reasons exercise is important for writers, but it’s worth saying again here. Putting your body through its paces can take the focus off your brain for a bit and give your subconscious a chance to work. There’s nothing wrong with a leisurely stroll, but I get the most benefit when I’m doing something that requires concentration. Activities that have been successful for me include horseback riding (if you don’t pay attention, you fall off); fencing (if you don’t pay attention, you get stabbed with a sharp, pointy thing); and dancing (if you don’t pay attention, people get angry when you crash into them). Even following a new exercise video from the library can work, so long as it engages your attention.

I have writer friends who swear by yoga, but for me it’s too easy for my brain to wander. If it works for you, that’s great. The point is to try different activities until you find one that’s absorbing, and then switch it up on a regular basis so your brain can’t cheat and go on autopilot.

SPEND TIME IN NATURE

Observing the natural world is one of the most powerful ways I’ve found to refill my writing well and refresh my soul. Without a regularly scheduled hike or walk in the woods, I become cranky and overwhelmed. On the trails, my brain tends to unknot tricky plot problems and character dilemmas without my attention. And since the natural world plays a big part in my writing, I often stumble across a detail or setting I can use later.

If you don’t live near the woods, there are still plenty of ways to interact with nature. Some museums have gardens or butterfly habitats you can visit for a fee. A greenhouse at a garden center is a wonderful (and warm) place to visit in the winter. Even watching birds at a feeder can be soothing.

VOLUNTEER

As writers, we spend hours inhabiting a solitary world. How to advance the plot, where to put the punctuation, whether we’ll ever be published, whether we’ll ever be published again—the worry can become all-consuming. It’s easy to forget that we’re surrounded by a whole world filled with real people.

An hour or two a week spent volunteering never fails to put my own writing struggles in perspective and remind me that the universe is bigger than what’s on the page. Whether you offer your service at a school, a library, or an animal shelter, find something you are passionate about and lend a hand.

Will following this list make you a best-selling author? I can’t guarantee that, but based on my own experience, it is likely to make you a happier, more fulfilled one. And, paradoxically, time spent doing other things may actually improve your writing. As important as it seems to us when we are in the throes of it, writing is just one aspect of the writing life. The fuller the other parts of our lives, the more we have to draw from when we create our stories.

After all, as Steve Jobs said, “Creativity is just connecting things. When you ask creative people how they did something, they feel a little guilty because they didn’t really do it. They just saw something. It seemed obvious to them after a while.”

So stop writing—at least every now and then—and go live your one wild and precious life.