Creative Mind Meld

Spock Mind MeldDo you remember when Spock would reach out to someone’s face, place his fingers in a strategic arrangement and burrow his brainwaves into the person’s mind like an alien invader of thought?

We’re not going to do that today.

What we are going to do is take a little journey. An odyssey of excursion to glimpse my creative mind;  a quick peek into how I spawn a writing project. Creation… is not pretty.

To understand where I am going it helps to know where I have been. I haven’t always been a creative writer, although I have always been a creative type person. I was more like the little professor, taking things apart to see how they worked and sometimes getting them back together so they would work again. (Ask me about the radar detector some day.)

I remember as a child visiting the grandparents. Papa Mills always had a pile of lumber stacked up behind the house. Most people would see it and call it a junk pile. What idiots! Anybody with half a brain could see hidden among that pile of throw-away wood was a boat, or an airplane, or a bastion of commerce on Wall Street. With a hammer and a few nails I would take from the pile and build a masterpiece.

I look back today and see it for what it was. At the time it was the most wondrous of things that carried me away on a sojourn of thought, playful artifacts of child creation swooping me away to far reaches of the world where I could battle pirates or arm wrestle with Genghis Kahn.

Creative MindMy adult mind only sees the fragments of wood and the haphazard arrangement of nails sticking from every corner of my art-work. (It occurs to me I did all that without safety glasses or an OSHA inspector.) I completely understand the absolute peril of growing up.

So the creative centers of my mind are very child-like. When I can get those ten-year-old brain waves flowing, unencumbered by bills and bad news, the things I see are amazing. I do my best writing when I am able to shake off the shackles of adulthood and create with the mind of a child.

A blank sheet of paper is akin to a landscape ready bulldoze into shape, ready to take seed and express emotion. My job is to clear away everything that isn’t the story.


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