Creativity Exercise "Five Lives": Let Your Imagination Do Some Trick-or-Treating

This Halloween, don’t only dress up in a costume, let your imagination dress up in some imaginary lives and see what they say to you.

This morning, I walked into the kitchen, where overnight the blood splattered blade of a guillotine magically appeared. Skulls hung in dirty nets above the sink. In my largest Cuisinart pot was a boiling concoction filled with bones that smelled as bad as it looked.

It is two days before Halloween.

Every year in our household, the last weeks of October gather into a maelstrom of dark and gory creativity as my boyfriend preps his props for the (terrifying) haunted house that he runs at a local country club. With the apartment looking like Jack Skellington’s workshop, and class prep on my mind, I was inspired to take a different angle and think about the lighter-side of Halloween today. Not the traditional meaning of the holiday, but the actual traditions—such as dressing up in costume.

This put me in mind of one of the activities from Julia Cameron’s The Artist Way that she calls Imaginary Lives (and I call Five Lives for ease of remembering).

It is a simple activity, not to be over-thought, where you list what you’d be if you had five other lives to lead. I suspect that this is actually an activity that everyone indulges in to a certain amount everyday in their imagination, which is why it becomes very powerful to put pen to paper and see what lives are officially calling to you.

My list today includes:
1. Secret Agent
2. Sea Captain (circa 1880)
3. Stationery & Gift Shop Owner
4. Best Selling Author (paperback “trashy” romances)
5. Yoga Teacher

This exercise has two very important elements to it that relate to creativity and inspiration. The first is that through seeing what lifestyles or careers are sparking your imagination, you can dig a little deeper and see what themes each of the lives has that make it so attractive. (This digging is important, because frankly as much as I like the idea of being a circa 1880 Sea Captain, it would: a.) be impossible due to restrictions in time travel. And b.) I like hot showers.)

Through a light “digging” into each of my five lives, I discover:
1. Secret Agent = Mystery + Adventure + Action
2. Sea Captain (c. 1880) = Adventure + Exploration + New Horizons + Travel + Courage
3. Shop Owner = Independence + Creativity + Merchandising + My Own Space + Action + Community + Sharing Happiness
4. Best Selling Author (Romances) = Writing + Creativity + Sharing Happiness + Fun + Research
5. Yoga Teacher = Healthy Body + Energy + Sharing Happiness

As you can see from my list, there are some themes such as Adventure and Sharing Happiness. These are two things that I can then brainstorm (or mind map) on how to incorporate into my real life, rather than it just be an impulse that manifests itself in my imagination.

Which brings me to the second valuable inspiration element of the Five Lives activity: action and incorporation.

There are two directions you can take the results of the activity once it is on paper. You can take the idea of the lives at face value, and use a creative medium to explore that life. For instance, I could write a one page sketch of my inner Sea Captain (that could lead to an awesome character for a longer story). Or, I could plan a trip down to tour the USS Constitution in Boston Harbor. Or, I could watch Master and Commander: Far Side of the World.

If I explore this from the themes that being a c. 1880 Sea Captain represents in my imagination, I can think about ways that I can add some adventure to my life. Maybe I begin to think about planning a trip, or learning something new in order to appease the desire for new horizons or adventure.

There are many, many ways to leverage this simple activity. Use it as a way to enrich your everyday life, which in turn, nourishes your creative self.

This Halloween, don’t only dress up in a costume, let your imagination dress up in some imaginary lives and see what they say to you.

Inspired? I'd love to hear about your imaginary lives! Share here on The Paper Compass.

In Creativity: The Importance of Postmortems

In creative endeavors, as in life, it is worth learning from—but not dwelling on—your successes and your failures.

The past few weeks have been busy in way that is unique to the beginning of the fall semester. Schedules change, routines change, the weather changes; autumn is a time of transition. Yet, the last few months of the year are also filled with tradition and annual milestones such as the first day of school, holidays and holy days that give us a feeling of familiarity. Through this dichotomy, I find that autumn is an intuitive time of year to meditate on change and progress.

With the advent of Halloween only a few weeks away, I thought I would share one of my favorite (and most morbid sounding) post-creative project evaluation techniques that we discuss in Creative Thinking & Problem Solving, the class that I teach in the Emerson College graduate Integrated Marketing Communication (IMC) program.

At the beginning of every semester, I have the students read and discuss the insightful Harvard Business Review article “How Pixar Fosters Collective Creativity” by Ed Catmull. The article is one of my favorites as it relates to understanding and appreciating the four dimensions of creativity: People, Place, Process, and Product. Through these “4 P’s of Creativity” the problem solving process and institutional architecture that powers Pixar Animation Studios' success and vision with movies such as Toy Story and Up are revealed to be tangible and consistent solutions that can be applied to ironing out the kinks in a major motion picture—or, due to their structure and simplicity—applied in order to empower your own creative process.

One of the techniques, that Pixar employs after a movie has been completed, is called a Postmortem. This is where, rather than just celebrating the launch of a movie and sweeping several years of stress, trial, and triumph under the rug, the company rounds up the team to reflect on the process and data and create a record of learned experiences for future projects. As Ed Catmull notes, “…although people learn from the postmortems, they don’t like to do them.” To be relevant to end of the project, and the point in the process where usually people want to move on, a Postmortem is a balance of both positive and negatives. At Pixar, the team lists the top five things they would do again as well as the top five things they would not do regarding the project. This is combined with the data from the project to create a final and factual big picture of lessons learned.

While I am a creative, I am also a project manager at heart and the idea of a Postmortem speaks to me. Creative people have a tendency to see solutions quickly, coupled with a willingness to take on new experiences, which often leads to projects that are started quickly, muddled through in the middle, and then finally finished in the dark hours of the morning, fueled by coffee and a pending deadline. I am no exception to this. Introducing the Postmortem to my endeavors, be they professional or personal, has helped me create reminders of what I can do differently to make the next project more successful, the process smoother and everything less stressful. Granted, there will always be new and unforeseen circumstances when embarking on a creative project, but understanding what worked, or should be avoided as learned from previous projects is an invaluable experience, and a great way to stimulate your own thinking process.

There are no special tools, or set-in-stone instructions for Postmortems. In fact, Pixar usually mixes up the Postmortem routine in order to make sure that they always gain new insights. On a basic level, you want to set aside time to document in your sketchbook or a master project file the five things that you would do again (or that went well) and the 5 things that you would not do again (or that went poorly) as they relate to your project or creative endeavor. From this, I usually have some mind mapping type lines that connect to ideas for avoiding or cultivating future solutions as needed. Most important: make sure to place the Postmortem somewhere that it can be referenced in the future!

Do you currently use a postmortem-like process for any of your projects, creative endeavors, or in general? Is it similar to the Pixar Postmortem? In what ways is it different? What do you personally find as the most effective way to learn from a completed project? Share your thoughts here on The Paper Compass.

To inspire your thinking, here are a few of the ways (usual and unusual) that I have found to successfully apply the Postmortem technique:

• Books: This summer, I was SO EXCITED that the long awaited volume, A Dance with Dragons, in George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire (for those of you watching HBO it is Game of Thrones) series was released, but I was also lamenting that after six years, I could not remember what characters had been left where and in what peril. In the case that it is six more years until the next book comes out, I wrote a “postmortem” cheat sheet when I finished the book and tucked it into the back cover of the last volume.

• Holidays: Every year, I do a short Postmortem the first week of January, which evaluates the triumphs and trials of Christmas. Not only am I reminded what gifts were a success (or forgotten in the back of the closet), I also always have ready the travel information (phone numbers, hotels, etc.) on hand for the following year—which makes the holiday travel (slightly) less stressful.

• Teaching: At the end of every semester I do a Postmortem on the class and what materials were successful or not successful. In the spirit of Pixar’s data collection, I review my notes from each class and determine what exercises worked or failed, and what I can introduce to improve them. Sometimes, if a particular class did not go as I was anticipating, I will enact an Immediate Postmortem in order to get things back on track or customize the material and timing to the different learning habits of the students in that semester.

• Parties: Postmortums and parties go hand in hand. This is how the following year I remember to use the crock pot, buy plastic bowls that are heat resistant, and have a good idea of how many bottles of red and white wine will be needed, and how many will be brought. Better party, much less stress. Thanks Postmortem!

From a Stationery Store in the Heart of Boston, Remembrances of September 11th

I was not prepared for the events of the work day following 9-11. When you think about stationery, people tend to think letters, wedding invitations, birth announcements and other happy items. But paper plays an important role in all life occasions—including death.

The morning of September 11th, found me folding laundry and watching the CNN morning news on my day off from my job as a manager for Crane & Co. Paper Makers, a stationery store at that time located at the Prudential Center in the heart of Boston. As the first images of the devastation came on TV, I remember standing in front of the screen, a pillow case held mid-fold in disbelief, with the sinking sensation that something very serious was happening. Within minutes of the first tower being hit, the phone rang. It was the associate manager from the store, wanting to know if something important was going on as they had received a “stand-by for further announcements” automated message from the Prudential Center. It felt surreal to explain the stories coming in on the news and to tell them to hold tight and do exactly what the Prudential Center instructed them to, even if that meant locking up and closing the store for the day. Then, like everyone else, I was held a captive witness to the devastating images and news on TV.

For me, that was only the beginning of my experiences connected to September 11th. Strangely, by being in the stationery business, it was the days after September 11th that made the devastation and heartbreak human and personal.

On Wednesday, September 12th, I walked to work, like I did every morning, from the Fenway to The Prudential Center. The city was eerily subdued for a week day work morning. Sirens could be heard, which vividly evoked the sounds and images from the TV the day before. I felt filled with adrenaline. As I walked along the Christian Science Reflecting Pool, a fighter jet flew overhead toward the financial district, and in the fading of the defining and heart bounding roar, I remember thinking, nothing will ever be the same.

I was not prepared for the events of the work day following 9-11. When you think about stationery, people tend to think letters, wedding invitations, birth announcements and other happy items. But paper plays an important role in all life occasions—including death.

The first call I took that morning was from the newly widowed wife of one of the pilots killed in the hijackings. She was calling to order sympathy acknowledgement cards. Her voice held the contrasting notes of logical calm and bewilderment. Having lost my father only two months earlier, it was a combination I knew well from grief. At the end of the call, after giving me her address for shipping, she asked for all possible privacy to be taken with her information as so many people were contacting her. There are reporters in the front yard, she said. After the call, I walked quickly to the backroom, needing a moment off the floor, feeling breathless and holding back tears as I absorbed the reality, not of images on TV, but of the people whose lives were forever changed by the attacks.

The rest of that day, and the days that followed, were emotionally wrenching. Several of our corporate customers had lost employees in the hijacked flights that left Boston. We sold black leather bound guest books for memorials, black bound books for remembrances, black pens to sign them with, black bordered sympathy acknowledgements. There were many moments of standing in the backroom looking for a boxed product, trying to remember a SKU, and feeling heartbroken over the story of lost that you had just heard.

Each night that week, I would closed up the store and, beginning the walk home, marvel at the emptiness of the Prudential Center. It felt as though the city was under a self-imposed curfew. The beat of my shoes echoed as I walked through the empty corridors, which are usually always filled with a steady stream of people.

About two weeks after the attack, on the first day commercial planes were given permission to fly again, I was on my dinner break, at the long since gone, Sbarro pizza place in the Copely Mall. It was a favorite haunt of mine for the quiet, the pizza and the view of the skyline of South Boston. From where I sat, starring out at the cloudy twilight, I began to see the lights of planes lining up to land at Logan. This sight, and its normalcy, after so many days of horrific images, heartbreaking stories and uncertainty in the aftermath of the attacks, filled me with an overwhelming feeling of hope. To this day, I still remember how the line of planes coming in to land looked remarkably beautiful, like a loose string of shinning diamonds against the gray evening sky.

Summer Challenge Week Eight: Labor

Challenge #8: Labor. The word labor evokes a sense of dedication and focus that is integral to creative endeavors. This week, transition from summer to fall with a meditation on your own creative labors, as well as a celebration of your creative achievements.

In this final 2011 Summer Challenge, use this week to set goals for creative projects this fall, or even examine ways that you can integrate time to “labor” over creative projects into your daily routine. Also some points to contemplate: What are projects that you feel you labored over? What was the experience of laboring for you? Did you experience a state of flow? What could you recreate or change from that experience to create a better environment for dedicated work on creative endeavors? (Which no matter how frustrating should always be a “labor of love.”)

With the concept of labor as your touchpoint, whatever ideas you choose to explore, make sure to record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

Labor Day arrives and with it, signs that these are the final days of summer. The holiday marks the last hurrah of summer with a long weekend, filled with final beach days and last barbecues. It is also a time when the newsstands suddenly sprout magazines about Halloween, and our thoughts turn to the new school year or the final months of work ahead.

I find it fitting that Labor Day is the US holiday that marks the transition from summer to fall. While the holiday has many political connotations, at its heart, it is a celebration of work and achievement. What better way to move from the care-free and casual mindset of summer, to the productive and focused thinking of fall, than with a day to meditation on your own creative labor—and, even more importantly, to take a moment to appreciate and celebrate your own creative achievements?

Labor Day became an official federal holiday during the heart of the Industrial Revolution in 1894, allowing members of labor unions to march together without having to take a day without pay. The federal holiday was a political concession after the violence of the Pullman Strike, but it originated out of the labor movement to eliminate the dangerous working conditions at the height of the Industrial Revolution. At this time the work day was twelve hours long—seven days a week—and many factories employed children because they were small enough to work inside the machines, they were quick, and could be paid less than an adult. More than a hundred years later, we are the recipients of the positive changes to our working conditions—and a structured work week—that is a result of the strife and violence that was part of the long battle that ultimately brought about this lazy summer holiday.

While labor means, on a basic level, to work hard, to be engaged in a productive physical or mental activity, it also means to toil, to strive towards a goal—which I think reflects the changes the laborers worked towards and advocated at the turn of the century—and also what we each experience in our own personal work and creative endeavors.

Labor, by itself, is an infinitely interesting word, especially where creative thinking is concerned. The word labor expresses a state of dedication and action towards an end result. To say that something is a labor of love means that even though the work is hard, it’s end result brings you pleasure. Or, if the work is strenuous, the word labor provides a sense of pace, of forward momentum, even if slow and plodding.

There are many other words for labor, especially in the language of the creative, but the bottom line is that no creative can escape the hard work of bringing an idea into reality. (So it is also fitting that the word labor also means the act of bringing a child into the world.)

Creativity is associated with joy and the free flow of ideas (similar to summertime). Labor is much more serious and somber (like fall). Yet, when you are in a good place with your work, labor transforms into something sublime that renowned academic Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi calls “flow”, a state of mind of completely focus motivation, when both sides of your brain are working in harmony. When you are in a state of flow, you lose track of time, the work comes easily, you are engaged, progress is made. When you are not in a state of flow, you could literally say you feel like you are laboring (in all of its negative connotations).

We know though, that labor must come before flow and as Julia Cameron emphasizes, the most important part of creativity is “showing up at the page.” Or as the last stanza of Longfellow’s famous poem “Psalm of Life” tells us:

Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

All of this is inspiration for the eighth summer challenge: Labor. The word labor evokes a sense of dedication and focus that is integral to creative endeavors. This week, transition from summer to fall with a meditation on your own creative labors, as well as a celebration of your creative achievements.

In this final 2011 Summer Challenge, use this week to set goals for creative projects this fall, or even examine ways that you can integrate time to “labor” over creative projects into your daily routine. Also some points to contemplate: What are projects that you feel you labored over? What was the experience of laboring for you? Did you experience a state of flow? What could you recreate or change from that experience to create a better environment for dedicated work on creative endeavors? (Which no matter how frustrating should always be a “labor of love.”)

With the concept of labor as your touchpoint, whatever ideas you choose to explore, make sure to record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

Summer Challenge Week Seven: Time Travel

Challenge #7: Time Travel. The concept of time travel, of being able to move backwards and forwards to different points in time, is an important part of creative thinking. With a little imagination it can show us the way that something has always been done, or it can give us the freedom to imagine the future and the way we believe it could be done better. In this interpretive weekly challenge, I encourage you to do some of your own time traveling this week. Become a time travel tourist and visit a local historical house or site. You can also do some arm chair traveling and pick up a biography about someone who you admire from a different time period or rent a movie from a different era. Pay close attention to what stories or experiences you find memorable, or what objects capture your attention.

If the past holds little interest to you, travel to the future by sending a postcard or letter from your “future self” to your current self. How many years in the future is it? How old are you? What are you doing? What advice do you have for your current (past) self. (Think Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol for this exercise.)

With the concept of time travel as your touchpoint, whatever you choose to do, make sure to record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

This summer, I have been experimenting with time travel.

A popular form of travel mainly occurring in science fiction books, TV, movies, and the DC comic universe, it is also the Big Idea behind the well done radio ad campaign for the non-profit organization Historic New England. With their cleverly designed “passport” guide to their 36 preservation properties in five states in-hand, my time travel adventures this summer took me back to 1940 at the Walter Gropius house and to circa 1890 at The Codman Estate, both in Lincoln, Massachusetts.

With time travel on my mind, it was with some interest that I learned that physicists from Hong Kong University recently announced that time travel is impossible and officially only something that could occur in science fiction. A fan of Jack Finney’s classic time travel books Time and Again and From Time to Time, I was a little disappointed to hear this conclusion, presented in a radio news story as I made my way slowly through traffic on Mass Ave.

While there is a part of me that respects that the speed of a photon cannot travel faster than the speed of light—hereby supporting Einstein’s theory that “an effect cannot occur before its cause”—there is another part of me that holds out hope though, that maybe just like in Finney’s novels, time travel is closer to hypnosis, and therefore just another deeper layer of the mind, rather than an actual place.

Another pin pick to the theory of time travel is English theoretical physicist and cosmologist, Stephen Hawking’s observation that if time travel was possible, we would have more tourists from the future. While we could surmise that they are very discrete, the lack of time travel tourists seems to point to evidence of it not being possible, or something that is not explored. Based on the number of ostentatious baby blue CSI crime scene booties that I have worn this summer to carefully traipse across the floors of historic houses without further wearing down the carpet—I can tell you one thing, I don’t think that time travel could ever be subtle.

But I like this idea of time travel tourists. It is a perfect expression for the nostalgic pleasure that I experience when I see the house stationery on the desk at The Codman Estate with “The Grange” engraved on the envelope—no need for an address. Or the long built-in desk where Walter Gropius and his wife worked side by side the window before them framing the view of a hill covered with long yellow grass and Queen Ann's Lace in the summer.

While most people on the house tours seem to be interested in the craftsmanship of the floor tile or the rarity of the paintings, I am imagining an evening conversation at the Gropius dinner table with its dramatic lighting. Or what happened to motivate the oldest Codman daughter, whose bedroom is filled with her own watercolor paintings, to ride her bicycle from Lincoln to Marblehead in one day in the early summer at the turn of the century. Was it athleticism? Curiosity? Boredom? Did she start riding and then just keep going? Did she forgo her corset? Did any of her friends begin the journey with her and decide to turn back while she continued on alone?

I believe that the role of the imagination is to create blue prints for ideas, to test them out, to taste them before we make them real. As a writer, my version of time travel inspires me toward new ideas for stories and also helps me see details that may make the story authentic.

Time travel though is also a way to step away from our own lives. Understanding a different time in history can be as inspiring as understanding a new culture. In learning, you open up your mind not just to immediate insights about what you are studying, but also gain insights into your own life, or the reasons behind why you do something a certain way. There are many “departing gates” for being a time travel tourist, from history books, to antique stores, to museum artifacts. This week especially though, I encourage you to do some immersion time travel by visiting a historical house or building in your town and see what it inspires.

All of this is inspiration for the seventh summer challenge: time travel. The concept of time travel, of being able to move backwards and forwards to different points in time is an important part of creative thinking. With a little imagination it can show us the way that something has always been done, or it can give us the freedom to imagine the future and the way we believe it could be done better (this is especially important for innovation—think of Dick Tracey’s futuristic walkie-talkie watch or the Futurism art movement at the beginning of the 20th Century). In this interpretive weekly challenge, I encourage you to do some of your own time traveling this week. Become a time travel tourist and visit a local historical house or site. You can also do some arm chair traveling and pick up a biography about someone who you admire from a different time period or rent a movie from a different era. Pay close attention to what stories or experiences you find memorable, or what objects capture your attention.

If the past holds little interest to you, travel to the future by sending a postcard or letter from your “future self” to your current self. How many years in the future is it? How old are you? What are you doing? What advice do you have for your current (past) self. (Think Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol for this exercise.)

With the concept of time travel as your touchpoint, whatever you choose to do, make sure to record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

Summer Challenge Week Six: Postcards

Challenge #6: Postcards. Whether you are traveling abroad, to the museum in the next town over, or just feel like adding an element of the exotic to your daily routine, writing a postcard to someone (even yourself) is a great way to capture your thoughts, document the moment, and connect.

With this as your touchpoint, this week take the time to write and send a postcard to someone (or yourself). If you are traveling this week, take the time to pick up some postcards as souvenirs and send them to a friend back home, or use them as a posted travel journal. Writing and sending a postcard from a local museum or attraction can make the difference between day trip and memorable adventure.

Postcards are also a great way to document artist dates, and I encourage you to send a postcard to yourself sharing what you did—through words, a sketch or even an idea. If being a homebody is in the weekly plans, use a postcard you have on hand and send it to someone who you have been thinking about (it will make their day). Whatever you choose to do, make sure to record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

If summer was a piece of stationery it would be a postcard.

Short and sweet, rich with vivid imagery and a snapshot of vibrant thoughts, the postcard in all its casual practicality is the embodiment of summer. Filled with sentiments such as wish you were here, thinking of you, or the itinerary of travel, the postcard is a perfect vehicle for capturing and sharing your thoughts within a specific moment, whether mundane or memorable.

One of the things that I like best about postcards is that while letters have an illustrious history, the postcard has a slightly checkered past. It is believed that in 1840, the first postcard was sent by British writer and infamous rake Theodore Hook. Addressed to himself, from himself, and containing a caricature of workers at the post office, it is believed to be a practical joke on the postal service. As Hook was also known for the Berners Street Hoax, this sounds completely feasible.

Postcards as a popular form of souvenirs or for sending short messages began to catch on in Europe in the 1870s. By the late 1880s and early 1890s, images of the newly built Eiffel Tower at the World’s Fair and the exhibits at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, would ushered in what is known as the Golden Age of Picture Postcards.

While the postcard is most closely associated with souvenir images of tourist and architectural attractions, any illustration—from flowers to advertisements—could (and did) grace the front. By the 1930s, the “saucy postcard” was in its heyday with cartoon illustrations of bawdy imagery, and the use of text filled with innuendos, double entendres and bawdy images.

Postcards to this day remain an important part of the souvenir industry, but more importantly, they have come to embody the mythos of a person abroad, exploring, looking for themselves through the experience of new places. For author and prize-winning journalist Alice Steinbach, postcards became a key element of recapturing the narrative of her life as she traveled through England, France and Italy on a journey of personal discovery and reconnection. These postcards, sent to herself, make up the backbone of her book Without Reservations: The Travels of an Independent Woman. In the well-known PostSecret project, the mythos and public nature of the postcard is taken one step further to anonymous confessions that connect us with others and the complexity of our own humanity.

All of this is inspiration for the sixth summer challenge: postcards. Whether you are traveling abroad, to the museum in the next town over, or just feel like adding an element of the exotic to your daily routine, writing a postcard to someone (even yourself) is a great way to capture your thoughts, document the moment, and connect (or reconnect).

With this as your touchpoint, this week take the time to write and send a postcard to someone (or yourself). If you are traveling this week, take the time to pick up some postcards as souvenirs and send them to a friend back home, or use them as a posted travel journal. Writing and sending a postcard from a local museum or attraction can make the difference between day trip and memorable adventure.

Postcards are also a great way to document artist dates, and I encourage you to send a postcard to yourself sharing what you did—through words, a sketch or even an idea. If being a homebody is in the weekly plans, use a postcard you have on hand and send it to someone who you have been thinking about (it will make their day). Whatever you choose to do, make sure to record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

Summer Challenge Week Five: Summer Love

Challenge #5: Summer Love. Summer gives us a unique time to be bold, to feel open, and to experiment. In this interpretive challenge, think about your own summer loves—romantic and/or experimental (such as a new idea, endeavor, or hobby.) How did you feel when they were happening? How did you feel after the summer ended? If you were to bring more romance or creative expression to your summer, how would you do so? If you were to create your own Summer of Love in the remaining weeks of summer, what would you do? How would it affect your daily life or routine?

With this as your touchpoint, this week meditate on summer love. You may be inspired by the core concepts of experimentation, openness and freedom of expression OR you may remember a relationship that made your summer memorable. Summer love, especially romance lends itself to many mediums for storytelling—visual, literary, or musical. You may also be inspired to experiment with integrating some Summer of Love creative expression into your weekly routine. Whatever you choose to do, make sure to record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

From Sandy and Danny to Sammi and Ronnie, summer has always been a season of love. Whether it is the seductive call of a warm night, the baring of skin, or the inevitable end date, summer romances are well documented in literature, movies, and what seems like an almost endless repertoire of songs. The dictionary defines romance as something that is fanciful, impractical, idealized and sentimental. Add in summer and you get the classic definition of summer romance: two (sometimes unlikely) people being open to taking a risk on their attraction, with no idea where it will go after the summer ends. In the case of Sandy and Danny in the musical Grease, we get to see the challenges of the romance when school returns. In the case of Sammi and Ronnie on the Jersey Shore, we get to watch multiple episodes of bad behavior. Love is never easy.

Summer heightens emotions. Like attracts like. People (especially youth) gather.

In the summer of 1967, roughly 100,000 people gathered in San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury district, creating a hub for the hippie counterculture movement that spread across the US during what was known as The Summer of Love. It was a pivotal summer in history, when the 60’s counterculture gained awareness in the US as a cultural revolution and the movement spread through similar gatherings in many other cities in the US, Canada and Europe. Synonymous with creative expression, communal living, free love, psychedelic drugs and music, The Summer of Love was also seen as a social experiment. “It was about exploration, finding new ways of expression, being aware of one’s existence” Grateful Dead guitarist Bob Weir said of Haight-Ashbury and The Summer of Love.

Just like any summer relationship (think Sammi and Ronnie more than Sandy and Danny) The Summer of Love, had consequences both good and bad that have shaped who we are today. Beat poet Michael McClure says of the summer of 1967, "If these young people hadn't declared the possibility of a new culture, a new family, a new tribe, believing in peace, nature, sexuality, the positive use of psychedelic drugs -- if they hadn't been there to broaden and deepen the hundreds of thousands and then millions of people who were broadened and deepened by this -- we would be in an even bigger [global environmental and economic] stew."

Whether it is a summer love or The Summer of Love, both of these experiences—one personal and one cultural—at their heart are about being open and taking creative risks. Summer love is about the freedom of exploring new ideas and new relationships without the restraints of the analytical mind of fall and winter. Most importantly, summer love is about the very important creative principle of experimenting.*

All this is the inspiration for the fifth summer challenge: Summer Love. Summer gives us a unique time to be bold, to feel open, and to experiment. In this interpretive challenge, think about your own summer loves—romantic and/or experimental (such as a new idea, endeavor, or hobby.) How did you feel when they were happening? How did you feel after the summer ended? If you were to bring more romance or creative expression to your summer, how would you do so? If you were to create your own Summer of Love in the remaining weeks of summer, what would you do? How would it affect your daily life or routine?

With this as your touchpoint, this week meditate on summer love. You may be inspired by the core concepts of experimentation, openness and freedom of expression OR you may remember a relationship that made your summer memorable. Summer love, especially romance lends itself to many mediums for storytelling—visual, literary, or musical. You may also be inspired to experiment with integrating some Summer of Love creative expression into your weekly routine. Whatever you choose to do, make sure to record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

*The terms “risk” and “experimenting” are to be used within the context of creative thinking. Please be safe!

Summer Challenge Week Four: Scents of Summer

Memory

That was the second Fourth of July
I didn't go down to the river.
I thought of you though, and when the sparks
of rockets and Roman candles lit the neighborhood
I strayed
halfway down the street,
sparkler in hand,
the smell of sulfur in my nose,
when it burned out.

And I ran from there,
to the dirt road behind the Bowman's house,
dogs barking from screened-in porches
in the Country Club. This is where you and I
had stolen the oranges. Walked barefoot
next to the fire ant piles
juice dripping from our fingers.

Through the dark, the red beacon
of the electrical box, blinking slowly
a quarter mile down. I cut across
the vacant lot, burs sticking
to my shoelaces,
back to the driveway where my dad
was dispensing sparklers to the neighbors.

And we all ran
out into the street
writing our names, spinning
until we fell down dizzy,
like stars in the grass.

Challenge #4: Scents of Summer. If you were to bottle summertime, what would it smell like? Are there certain scents that you associate with each month of the summer? Or are there certain scents that make different locations distinct? Think about the scents of this summer compared to ones in the past. What is the same? What is different?

With this as your touchpoint, this week notice and be inspired by the scents of summer. Scents are a particularly powerful literary vehicle, and I encourage you to write a poem or a short prose piece that is rich in the sensory details of scent. You can also be inspired to go on an artist date to recapture a familiar scent of summer. Whatever you choose to do, make sure to record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

To the boy Henry Adams, summer was drunken. Among senses, smell was the strongest—smell of the hot pine-woods and sweet fern in the scorching summer noon; of the new mown hay; of the ploughed earth; of box hedges; of peaches, lilacs, syringas; of stables, barns, cow yards; of salt water and low tides on the marshes; nothing came amiss. –The Education of Henry Adams, Henry Adams

Every summer my brother and I take on (what I consider) a semi-imposing literary classic. Last summer it was Faulkner’s Intruder in the Dust, and this summer, The Education of Henry Adams. One of my favorite things about the book is the way that the young Henry’s education begins with the senses, from his learning the color yellow from the sunlight on the yellow floor of the kitchen, to his first memory of taste (a baked apple) and then to the rich scents of summer that distinguish the freedom of his summers in Quincy from the "compulsory learning" of fall and winter in Boston.

Scent is a powerful sense, especially in humans where it is highly connected to memory. Different from other animals, smells, when they are in the human brain are transmitted to two locations. First, the olfactory epithelium sends the scents to the thalamus in the frontal cortex of the brain, which then identifies the smell. But in primates, the scent also goes to the limbic area. This is a primal part of the brain that deals with motivation, emotion, pleasure, and types of memory associated with food.

Thanks to the connection with the limibic area of the brain, we have a phenomenon known as “Proustian Memory” which is the exceptional experience of a scent releasing a flood memories. It is named after the author Marcel Proust who began his novel Swan’s Way with, what could possibly be the most famous scent captured in literary history: a memory spun from the scent of a lime-blossom tea drenched madeleine.

Scents are an integral part of any season. Sometimes they are very prominent, such as the scents we associate with the winter holidays, and sometimes they are more subtle, part of the day to day activities that make the season and location distinct, as Henry Adams captures in the quote above.

When I think about the scents of summer, I think about the smell of ripe peaches, hamburgers on the grill, suntan oil, freshly mowed grass, and the smoky-sulfur scent of sparklers. This last scent is a scent that evokes for me powerful memories of the 4th of July, and my dad, who would always lead the neighborhood in setting off fireworks. There would be an air of excitement, danger, anticipation and exhilaration on those 4th of July nights, and all I have to do is light a sparkler to remember all of it.

All of this is inspiration for the fourth summer challenge: scents of summer. If you were to bottle summertime, what would it smell like? Are there certain scents that you associate with each month of the summer? Or are there certain scents that make different locations distinct? Think about the scents of this summer compared to ones in the past. What is the same? What is different?

With this as your touchpoint, this week notice and be inspired by the scents of summer. Scents are a particularly powerful literary vehicle, and I encourage you to write a poem or a short prose piece that is rich in the sensory details of scent. You can also be inspired to go on an artist date to recapture a familiar scent of summer. Whatever you choose to do, make sure to record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

Special thanks to Taryn McCormick for sharing her image for the post.
The poem Memory is from my chapbook Ophelia's Florida & Other Poems, published in 1999 by PPB Press.

Summer Challenge Week Three: Summer Camp

Challenge #3: Summer Camp. In this interpretive challenge you are encouraged to remember your own memories of camp: what camp(s) did you attend? What activities did you do that you remember most? What were the people like? The scents, sounds, and tastes? What did you learn or make there?

Or, you can be inspired by the idea of camp and its activities to add some creative thinking and inspiration to your daily life. Return to “camp” by taking a class or seminar that lets you indulge in a subject that you love. If you don’t have time to attend “camp” as an adult, is there an activity that you can do this week that you learned at summer camp?

With this as your touchpoint, this week capture your memories of camp and the activities that you remember in detail. You can do this as a writing exercise, a camp inspired activity, or record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

While I owe much about what I know to education, I owe my knowledge of much of what I love to camp.

In the absence of school, camp is often the ruling activity of summer. In American pop culture summer camp evokes a camp-fire-esque rosy glow of an overnight camp with cabins by a lake. Traditional camps are still out there, but they are now joined by camps of every kind—from Apple camp to etiquette camp.

The roots of summer camp go back to the turn of the century, where the changing urban and suburban landscape, along with new protective labor and school attendance laws, meant that a generation of middle- and upper-class boys was facing a summer free of farm chores. At that time, the summer months were viewed, as camp director Henry W. Gibson, puts it, “as ‘a period of moral deterioration with most boys … who have heretofore wasted the glorious summer time loafing on the city streets, or as disastrously at summer hotels or amusements places.’" Summer camps gave boys a place to go in the summer months and be, well, boys. Camps for girls appeared around 1920, with a focus on arts and crafts rather than athletics. (1)

While my version of summer camp never meant a traditional sleep-away week in the wilderness, it did mean a wealth of activities focused around a theme. From PGA National junior golf camp to teen theater camp at the B.R.I.T.T. (the now closed Burt Reynold’s Institute of Theater Training in Tequesta, Florida), I have many memories from the diverse range of camps that I attended. These experiences at summer camp gave me a chance to indulge and explore the activities that I was passionate or curious about, and most importantly taught me that learning is something that happens all the time through new experiences.

One of my favorite summer camps took place the summer before fifth grade, when I attended the Bush Holley House Camp in Cos Cob, Connecticut. It is this camp that I attribute with my fascination for antiques and love of time travel (also known as the slightly less exciting sounding past time of visiting historic houses). When I think about the Bush Holley House Summer Camp it evokes the scent of box wood hedges and the brightness of sunlight highlighting the cracks in the boards of the barn.

I don’t have too many memories of the other campers or the camp counselors, but the activities are still vivid in my mind. Each day we would have a craftsman or historian talk to us about life in the 18th century and then we would recreate games and chores that children would have done in the house 200 years ago. I learned to dip candles, pull taffy, press flowers, and create my own tin pattern so I could be identified by my lantern. Already an avid reader, the stories about the house—how the British soldiers had come in the night, the family fleeing out the back door to hide in the grape vines—and the house itself (the front door still to this day wears the scar of a bayonet) captured my over-active imagination and created a love affair with history and storytelling.

All of this is inspiration for the third summer challenge: Summer Camp. This is a challenge that is open to interpretation. You are encouraged to remember your own memories of camp: what camp(s) did you attend? What activities did you do that you remember most? What were the people like? The scents, sounds, and tastes? What did you learn or make there?

Or, you can be inspired by the idea of camp and its activities to add some creative thinking and inspiration to your daily life. Take a class or seminar that lets you indulge in a subject that you love. If you don’t have time to attend “camp” as an adult, is there an activity that you can do this week that you learned at camp?

With this as your touchpoint, this week capture your memories of camp and the activities that you remember in detail. You can do this as a writing exercise, a camp inspired activity, or record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

1. Instrumental in writing this blog post was Slate’s article by Abigail Van Slyck, A Manufactured Wilderness, introducing the author’s book by the same name. Visit the article to see a great slide show of images from some of the first American summer camps.

Summer Challenge Week Two: Summer Jobs

Challenge #2: Summer Jobs. What summer jobs have you had? Which was your favorite and why? Which was your least favorite and why? Is there anything you have “taken with you” as a learning experience, or a story, from a summer job? Is there anything that you would never do again? Is there anything that you would like to do again? Who were the people you worked with? What were their habits? What were the sights, sounds, smells, and even tastes of that summer job? So often as adults we ask people, “what do you do?” Think about what you could learn if you asked, “What summer jobs did you have?” With this as your touchpoint, this week capture your memories of either a cherished or loathed summer job and the people and place that made up the environment. You can do this as a writing exercise, or record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

Although not on my original list, this challenge was inspired by an in-class writing exercise from the Summer Workshop for Returning Writers that I’m taking, taught by Julia Thacker. She was, in turn, inspired by author Aimee Bender’s monthly writing exercise on her website. I thought that it was too good a summer challenge to not share.

I find summer jobs infinitely interesting and a wealth of great sensory and plot details. With their seasonal beginning and end, they are not unlike short stories. With a summer job we get to experience people and tasks (and sometimes even places) that we will most likely not see or do again (much to some people's relief).

Summer jobs are often filled with a creative cocktail of repetitive activities and really interesting people which is ideal for creating “sticky” and interesting details. For instance, my brother worked at the record store at the mall one summer, and if I remember correctly, his manager spent a great deal of time sleeping under the desk in the back. My sister worked in the sundries shop at a local hotel and had stories that covered the spectrum from wedding nights
gone wrong to strange conversations with even stranger guests.

While not my first summer job, the most vivid of them—my time hostessing at Chuck & Harold’s on Palm Beach, the summer after my freshman year at BU—was the first to come to mind for the in-class writing exercise and I have placed it below to share.

Summer Job 1997

In June, on Palm Beach, it rains at least twenty-eight days out of the thirty in the month. From the hostess stand at Chuck & Harold’s, I would watch the sheets of it fall every afternoon like clockwork. Sweeping in from the west, it would come as a downpour, flooding the street and knocking down husks from the palm trees lining Flagler Drive. It would end just as abruptly, leaving the evening air smelling humid and lush.

When the rain began, the busboys would unroll the plastic curtains around the outside tables that lined the sidewalk. When the curtains were rolled back it signaled a shift change. The daytime staff would take off their aprons and finalize tips with managers. While the evening servers and night managers would arrive, straightening ties, and tying on their aprons. The tables would be reset and the menus would change from brunch and lunch, to early bird special and dinner, the paper would sometimes still be warm from the printer in the back office.

I would take my break and eat conch chowder and a fresh, warm roll out in the courtyard behind the kitchen. When I returned to the front, the parrots would be on the power lines outside the post office with their loud calls and the first of the early bird diners would descend, elderly and frail with dispositions that belied their looks.

A veteran waiter once told me that he believed people are at their worst before eating. By the end of the summer, I felt that I had enough anthropologic evidence to back up his theory. One event, resulting from a busboy hazy with purpose while wooing one of the younger waitresses, hastily cleared a table without watching where he wiped the crumbs. When I arrived to seat a party of four, one of the men said to me, while shaking a liver-spotted pointed finger, “You can brush the crumbs off that chair or buy me a new suit.” Evenings that began like that signaled a long night.

The afternoons, though, when it rained and the only customers were the trust fund bachelors who would come in and sit at the bar, greeting the entire staff by name, were slow and good for daydreaming. I would answer the phone, take reservations and, in-between calls, write lines of poetry on scraps of paper with the thick waxy pencil from the hostess stand. It was my favorite time of day—the dining areas set and expectant, the rain moving east, out to the ocean, and the summer stretching ahead feeling slow and infinite in the moment—safe with the promise of another semester of college on the horizon.

*****

All of this is inspiration for the second summer challenge: summer jobs. What summer jobs have you had? Which is your favorite and why? Which is your least favorite and why? Is there anything you have “taken with you” as a learning experience from a summer job? Is there anything that you would never do again? Is there anything that you would like to do again? Who were the people you worked with? What were their habits? What were the sights, sounds, smells, and even tastes of that summer job? So often as adults we ask people, “what do you do?” Think about what you could learn if you asked, “What summer jobs did you have?”

With this as your touchpoint, this week capture your memories of either a cherished or loathed summer job and the people and place that made up the environment. You can do this as a writing exercise, or record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts—then share here on The Paper Compass.

Summer Challenge Week One: The Beach

Challenge #1: The sea-side has its own unique culture, and can be evoked in many ways, through colors, textures and scents, or even through sounds or activities. This week you are encouraged to use as a point of inspiration the beach, especially the experience of going to the beach and your beach related memories. (If you have never been to the beach you can do this exercise with a local swimming spot or lake-side destination.) Key to this challenge is considering: What sensory experiences make up your memories or sense of being at the beach? What memories of the beach do you have? Who are you with? What does the beach mean to you (or even represent)? How is the beach you go to unique from other beaches? Relaxation and play are key ingredients for creative thinking—if the beach is not near, is there a way to evoke a “life’s a beach” frame of mind? With these as your touch-points, this week capture your memories of the beach or, if possible, plan an ocean-side Artist Date. Record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts and share here on The Paper Compass.

Growing up in Old Greenwich, Connecticut, our family tradition was to go to the beach every Sunday, where we would sit in a large group with my dad’s family—my grandparents, my aunt and uncle and cousins—and sometimes other families that our parents were good friends with. As a kid, nothing was better than Sunday mornings on the beach, building sand castles, listening to the adults talk and laugh, and spending hours jumping off the low wall from the parking lot into the soft sand. On the way there, my parents would always pick up a dozen doughnuts, and sometimes even Munchkins. Jelly doughnuts were my favorite even if it was sometimes difficult to distinguish sandy finger prints from granulated sugar. (To this day though, I still crave Dunkin Donuts on Sunday mornings.)

My grandfather was always one of the first people to go in the ocean, no matter how cold. I remember that he had a special pair of rubber-bottomed, net shoes that he would wear in the water so that he would not cut his feet on the barnacles on the rocks. My dad and I would go out to meet him, my dad helping me past the waves. We would join Grandpop where it was just deep enough for me to not be able to touch. I would bob under the surface until I could push myself back up with my toes and doggy paddle, circling my dad. Grandpop would float on his back in the water for long stretches of time, his net shoes pointing up toward the sky.

At the end of the day, we would go back to my dad’s white Volkswagen bus (the same kind you see in grainy pictures of Woodstock) and slide back the door and the heat from the summer day would roll out at us like an invisible wall of fire. The white naugahyde seats would be so hot that they’d burn the back of your legs. We would cover every inch of them with towels, now damp and sandy. Then we would climb in and roll the windows down one struggling crank at a time, and slide the back windows open as far as they would go. On the drive home the wind would dry your skin leaving a film of ocean salt and sand.

The beach and summertime have always gone together in my life, with the exception being the decade that we lived in Florida. Even then though, the beach with its breezes was a least a place to take refuge from the humidity, the sun and heat being inescapable. For many, going to the beach, for a day or a week, represents a summer tradition. It is a destination cultivated around sunlight, heat and free time.

Being at the beach contains a certain liberation from daily life unlike other destinations. It is a location that invites you to breathe deep, take in the vast uninterrupted expanse of the ocean, and partake in two traditional beach behaviors: relax or play. In a way, the beach encompasses all of the most treasured values of summertime.

The beach is also rich in sensory experiences that make our memories of it very powerful and evocative. Luckily much of what gives us a sense of place at the beach has to do with things that to this day remain unchanged, making it easy to evoke memories through something as simple as the scent of suntan lotion, a salty breeze, or even certain colors.

All of this is inspiration for the first Summer Challenge: The Beach. The sea-side has its own unique culture, and can be evoked in many ways, through colors, textures and scents, or even through sounds or activities. This week you are encouraged to think about or use as a point of inspiration, the beach—especially the experience of going to the beach and your beach related memories. (If you have never been to the beach you can do this exercise with a local swimming spot or lake-side destination.) Key to this challenge is considering: What sensory experiences make up your memories or sense of being at the beach? What different memories of the beach do you have, who are you with? What does the beach mean to you or even represent? How is your beach unique from other beaches? Relaxation and play are key ingredients for creative thinking—if the beach is not near, is there a way to evoke a “life’s a beach” frame of mind?

With this as your touchpoint, this week capture your memories of the beach or, if possible, plan an ocean-side Artist Date. Record in your sketchbook any inspiration, ideas, illustrations, or thoughts and share here on The Paper Compass.

PS. The image for this post is a painting that my dad created. It is much enjoyed in my family for its open interpretation of the image: either a calm sea with a breaking wave in the foreground or when flipped upside-down a sea with menacing sky.

2011 Summer Challenges Commence! Tapping into a Season of Creative Experiences

Summer has arrived. Through the open windows come the sounds of lawn mowers. In the evening, the soft murmur of voices punctuated by laughter as neighbors sit on their porches and talk late into the night. The light lingers, and only by nine o’clock can the first stars be distinguished in the sky. The heat comes, tanning skin, dampening brows, and making the fans work hard through the still afternoons.

This is my favorite time of year. There is something special in the long days, the slow heat, and the sense of extended time that lends itself to creative exploration, awareness of the moment, and playfulness. As I wrote last summer, summertime seems a season where the veil between the past and the present becomes translucent. Memories rise to the surface like ice cubes in a glass of lemonade, clinking together, gently reminding you of things long forgotten or of the origins of traditions still carried out. This point of memory is a wellspring of ideas that can foster new creative endeavors or add kindling to on-going ones. Summer also gives us a feeling of there being time to relax, and creativity always blossoms when you have time to daydream.

Summer Challenges began last summer, inspired by a vague memory that turned into a weekend project to reacquaint myself with a pack of Big League Chew, a gum I hadn't had since I was about ten. From this simple adventure developed some great moments of inspiration and re-connection to many other memories (and some old friends). In the eight weeks of the Dog Days of Summer last year, we explored Candy, Books, Ice Cream, Sunrise, Sunset & High Noon, Spontaneous Play, Wanderlust, Adventures, and Alfresco as touch points for remembering and creating.

I hope that you will join us for another eight weeks of Summer Challenges. We will be exploring a number of new topics, such as Camp and The Beach, as well as many more. These posts are inspiration points for exploration to jump start creative thinking (or even an Artist Date.) They can be interpreted in many ways, and “captured” creatively through any medium from writing and painting to photography to a brief sketch. Whether they inspire you to a completed piece, point you to a long lost memory, or are noted as an idea for later use, I hope that you will share some of your experiences and work in the comment section after each post.

Happy creating!

The Power of Keeping a Journal or How to Cultivate Talking to Yourself

I won­der if I shall burn this sheet of paper like most oth­ers I have begun in the same way. To write a diary, I have thought of very often at far and near dis­tances of time: but how could I write a diary with­out throw­ing upon paper my thoughts, all my thoughts — the thoughts of my heart as well as of my head? — & then how could I bear to look on them after they were written? Adam made fig leaves necessary for the mind, as well as for the body. And such a mind as I have! - Emily Barrett Browning

Beginning in third grade, I developed the fortunate habit of keeping a journal. It began with the receipt of a blank lined book for my birthday that had a floral design on the padded cover resulting in a pleasantly squishy give when I wrote in it. At the time, I must have read something that influenced my first entries, as I began them all with “Dear Diary” in my carefully printed and childishly round handwriting. The formal salutation was something I didn’t change until high school, and I remember it initially felt strange to leave it out (although way more mature) and just start writing on the page after putting the date on the paper. I now understand that the greeting of Dear Diary, no matter how cliché, gives permission to confide in the paper, to have a conversation about the markedly interesting or pressing things that are taking over that moment in time. (For instance, in 3rd grade this involved my desire to get a Koosh™ ball for Christmas, and later in 6th grade, the day that one of my friend's older sisters swore at the bus stop, calling someone a "bitch" which was a really big deal at the time.)

I can’t imagine not having a journal. That is how deeply ingrained this habit of personal writing is. I get antsy if for some reason too much time goes by where I don’t sit down and write—or as I think of it “catch up with myself.” Withdrawal usually kicks in at two weeks. If I am traveling and don’t take my journal with me, I write on hotel stationery (or any paper I can find) and paste them in later.

I don’t write formally. And it is certainly not premeditated. It is a splash of words that come in the moment, my collection of thoughts from a certain event, idea or place. Sometimes I try and capture what I am writing in great detail, but more often than not I write as though I am sending a letter to myself. This other self that I write to apparently has great tolerance for emotions (without needing a lot of background), the banalities of everyday (I like to write when I am cozy), and much talk of my goals and wishes (without detailed project plans.)

But perhaps one of the most important things that has come out of my journaling is a connection with my inner voice. When I go back and reread entries—something that I do occasionally or when I am looking to remember a detail or emotion from a certain time—I think, Wow, who wrote this? Did I really understand all that at the time? I want to be like this person! At my yoga center, they call this inner voice your True Self. My True Self apparently likes to communicate through writing and re-reading journal entries, and sounds calm, collected, confident and most of the things I don’t feel when I am sitting down pouring my heart out via words on the page.

Julia Cameron documents the power of tapping into your True Self through in her famous creativity book The Artist’s Way. Cameron’s Morning Pages, which are different from journaling but share some of the same aspects, are a key tool for taping into our natural tendency for creative thinking. While Morning Pages and the resulting ideas, conversations, etc. always seem to involve a little bit of magic they are the result of dedicating time to write, and writing without judgment.

Journaling is different than keeping a diary, and for me more liberating. A diary is traditionally viewed as a daily record of one’s everyday activities whereas a journal is not restricted to rigorous time keeping and can be kept on any subject, hence labels such as “dream diary” vs. “travel journal.” Morning Pages, are decidedly less formal and are a “brain dump” of your immediate thoughts onto the page. One of their key components is routine and after time this can create a special creative time and space to play with ideas.

As a creative thinking tool a journal (or the less formal tool of Morning Pages) is incredibly powerful and valuable. Not only can you cultivate the habit of putting pen to paper and capturing your thoughts, but you give your brain a chance to fully disclose all the stuff it rambles on (or stage whispers) about non-stop during the day. The added benefit of these thoughts making it to paper is that they then become a conversation. This can lead to better understanding of a thought or emotion, or ideas and solutions. For instance, the constant critiquing of your body may become a written dialogue about how work is boring, or that you don’t feel very powerful and that it may be a good time to get a gym membership or study a martial art.

If you have not ever kept a journal, I highly recommend starting. It is an amazing creative tool to have, although it can be difficult to stick to and/or sometimes even begin—as can religiously doing Morning Pages. (On the other hand, for some people it is instantly addicting.) One concern that everyone faces is that of putting their inner most thoughts on paper. Whether it is a fear of the thought becoming more real once it is written, or worse, that someone will read our inner most thoughts, we have the preconceived notion that putting something on paper makes it official. I am happy to say that this is not true. Writing something down gives us the space to have a conversation about it (with ourselves), or get our mind out of the record groove that it may be stuck on.

As for finding the security and safety to write without the fear of someone reading the pages, I feel that is a basic and very important personal creative right. A sense of safety is something that all creatives need to bring their ideas into being. With something less formal, like Morning Pages, you have the option to destroy them after writing (especially if you are just doing a “brain dump”). If you are writing for posterity, or want to have your journal or Morning Pages as a reference, then the people in your life should know they are a sacred space.

I believe that journals are (casual yet) sacred spaces. They are for us to write in now and learn from ourselves. And later, if we want to share them, they can be for someone else to learn of our lifetime and our wisdom.

A little extra:
• To cultivate the habit of journaling, make sure to find a journal that you love to write in. What is your purpose of journaling? Are you writing for your own insight and ideas or for posterity? Knowing why you want to keep a journal will help you select the best one for your purpose. One of my favorite companies for journal is Graphic Image, they are all acid free and highly durable. Levenger’s also has a great ledger and a 5 year diary, if you want to start small or track ideas or events daily.
• In addition to knowing what kind of journal you want to keep, you can develop your writing style. If you are writing for memory, then make sure to capture in writing all of your senses: sight, smell, taste, touch, sound. If you are writing for your eyes only, then practice writing without judging. A good book (very deep) on journaling is A Life’s Companion: Journal Writing as a Spiritual Quest by Christina Baldwin.
• If this is a new habit, make sure to dedicate time to write in your journal. Part of the magic of Morning Pages is that your mind is still waking up. For those of us (me included) who are not morning people, writing before bed or during a quite space on the weekend can be as effective. Creativity as a skill loves routine.
• Famous journalers include John Adams and Louisa May Alcott, whose journals provided her with the material (almost page for page) for her famous book Little Women.

Using a Sketchbook Commonplace Book to Jump Start Your Creative Thinking

The summer semester of Creative Thinking is coming. With only four weeks until class, my wintery and myopic mind, preoccupied with work and dulled by the grind of the New England weather, has finally bloomed and started to look forward to the horizon like a sailor in the crows nest.

With the fire of teaching rekindled in me, I take stock of the syllabus and begin some tinkering. I keep the general format of the class and the core lessons, but I tighten and hone the information that enhances them. While I am looking forward, I also look back and review a few things that struck me about the last couple semesters. From here I brainstorm on what I can introduce or communicate better to give the students more tools, information or interpretations to make the experience more dynamic and effective.

My post-mortem introspection of the fall semester, coinciding with some mind-blowing reading of Steven Johnson’s book Where Good Ideas Come From, actually presented me with a new way of presenting one of the core tools in the class. As it so happens to also be a very important paper-based idea connector (of which I can’t overstate the importance to creative thinking) I thought I would assemble my thoughts here and test them in the wild. Which is why this long promised blog post is about a key creativity tool: Commonplace Books.

In the large and detailed document that is the class syllabus there is a list of supplies that the students must have for the class. One of these is “a sketchbook roughly 9 x 12.” By the second class I notice that two camps form: students who embrace the sketchbook as though they have been looking for permission (or an excuse) to buy one and carry it around; and students who only bring a sketchbook to class when required. In lieu of a sketchbook as a constant companion, this group likes ruled notebook paper, small lined journals, and other structured note-taking items that have lines, margins, and generally no really great place to let your mind wander.

It is important to mention here, that I have no bias against how the students are taking notes in the class or using note paper or their sketchbooks. My main focus is that the information is engaging, that it helps them learn, and they have a place to capture their thoughts. To a certain extent though, from my perspective as a teacher, that requires the right tools. Through the last few semesters, I have begun to pick up on an increased level of “Why do I need a sketchbook?” or even as I was asked one time after class “How do I use a sketchbook?” (which is a completely valid question.)

I have come to realize that to a group of highly intellectual and analytical graduate students a sketchbook is an oddity. It was something that some of them had never worked in or owned before, and many believed that sketchbooks are solely for sketching. I understand that this makes it a discerning object, especially if drawing as a form of self expression is not your forte.

Even more "terrifying" is that which also makes the sketchbook so great---finger-flip after finger-flip of blank pages. No lines running right to left to tell you where to start and keep your writing. No lines to sever illustrations or charts. No margins to keep everything framed and boxed in. Just blank pages that can be filled with a little, or a lot. Categorized however you deem to place the information. Diagonal writing, full bleed images, illustrations and text, just images, cut outs, sketches, collage, lists, ideas…there is nothing that can’t go into a sketchbook—that wild white abyss—and become a testament to your creating something new and unique centered around a single theme or a testament to your exploration of ideas.

Also, without lines, the possibility exists that the true nature of your crooked handwriting is revealed and with it—the freedom to create mind maps and integrate other images and things that you may discover your mind likes to read much better—and, most importantly, sparks ideas from the randomness and spontaneous placement of the gathered information.

Which brings me to commonplace books and why I am going to begin the summer semester by making the disclaimer that the Sketchbook tool for the class is really a Commonplace Book—a place to gather ideas. To integrate mediums, to take notes, draw mind maps, do musical interpretation exercises, list things, etc.

Commonplace books date back to the late 15th century Europe and played a key part in the intellectual ideas of the Renaissance and the Enlightenment. Key thinkers used common place books with the goal of nurturing focused thought and logic to lead humankind away from superstition and old traditions (ultimately this thinking leading to the ideas that inspired the American and French Revolution). Commonplace books were also a way for the people of the time to deal with information overload. Similar to our fascination and frustration with the Internet now, the invention of the printing press provided a never before seen amount of information in the form of books and pamphlets. The information would be amassed (through copying or pasting) by scholars and thinkers into their commonplace books and interspersed with personal thoughts, quotes from letters, illustrations and other relevant information that related to the owner’s passion or the theme of the commonplace book.

Commonplace books also by their very nature integrate two of the most essential elements of learning and mentally processing information: reading and writing. By arranging and commenting on the information gathered in a commonplace book, not only are reading and writing a continuous joint effort for understanding the world, but the information also comes together in a unique way to spark new ideas. Johnson discusses how the commonplace book plays an important part in “the slow hunch.” As the owner of the commonplace book rereads or browses all of the information, the lack of organization leads to a more organic and powerful source for fostering ideas or sparking the final “ah ha” of a hunch. Johnson recommends, “Imposing too much order runs the risk of orphaning a promising hunch in a larger project that has died, and it makes it difficult for those ideas to mingle and breed when you revisit them. You need a system for capturing hunches, but not necessarily categorizing them, because categories can build barriers between disparate ideas, restrict them to their own conceptual islands.”

This organic, intensely unique, idea-sparking book is the special roll that a sketchbook can play when it becomes a commonplace book.

A little extra:
• Commonplace books can contain any assortment of information, from ideas to observations, from recipes to photos and scraps of textiles. The most important thing is that you have a place to capture and integrate items that spark your thinking.
• Commonplace books are essentially sketchbooks, just customized with information rather than sketches. So you have lots of styles to choose from. Just remember that the most important thing is to get started and then, as your common place books grow, figure out what are the elements (size, shape, paper weight and texture) that help you work best.
• Commonplace books have been at the side of some of the world’s greatest thinkers: Darwin, Francis Bacon, John Locke, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Henry David Thoreau to name a few.
• In recent literature, Klaus Baudelaire, of Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events keeps a commonplace book.
• For more information on ideas and the role of commonplace books, I highly recommend Steven Johnson’s Where Good Ideas Come From. Also wiki is a great source of information to get you started if you want a more detailed history.