But then there are those other times when the opposite happens. No matter how hard I try, the words just don’t come. I sit at the computer, stare at the screen, and I’m lucky if I can barely eke out a paragraph, much less a page or a whole chapter. Not gonna lie, I’ve been feeling very uninspired lately and the past couple of newsletters have been a challenge to write.

So, how did I get through it? After all, I must’ve gotten through it somehow or you wouldn’t be reading this newsletter right now. To understand how to get into a state of creative flow, we need to understand where creative flow comes from. Specifically, creative flow is based on four central concepts: the mind-work cycle, skill-based learning, practice, and community.

Mind-Work Cycle

The mind-work cycle is this notion that when we write we create a feedback loop between our brains and our writing. Our thoughts, experiences, and emotions (i.e., things coming from our minds) will naturally influence the words we put on the page. At the same time, when we write we process our thoughts and emotions and we also metabolize our experiences. This means that the very act of writing will in turn influence our minds.

Sometimes this feedback loop has a positive impact on our ability to find creative flow. For example, suppose you are writing a story loosely based on something that happened in your early life. By writing about this experience, you might work through some of the difficult emotions and maybe even “rewrite” how some events played out. This creates a positive experience at the page, which will make you more likely to want to continue working on that story. This feeds the mind-work cycle and increases your creative flow.

On the other hand, suppose that the memories and past experiences impact your writing in a negative way. This might make the writing itself more difficult and you may be less likely to want to continue with the project, thus impeding creative flow. Note that just because a project might bring up negative emotions does not automatically mean it will create a negative cycle. (After all, for some writers, sad stories can be more engaging than happy ones.)

The key here is to be aware of that mind-work cycle, to understand that our thinking impacts our writing but our writing also impacts our thinking. We want to keep track of that cycle so that when it’s going in a positive direction, we can ride that wave and be in that state of creative flow. But we also want to be able to step back and assess that cycle, to make sure we’re not moving in a negative direction and getting in the way of our own creative process.

Skill-Based Learning

One of the biggest fallacies about creativity is that it’s mysterious and amorphous, that there’s no rhyme or reason to it. As my high school English teacher would say: “Bull-honky!” Creative work—like writing—can be as technical and precise as other more scientific fields. And this technique doesn’t just apply to the craft, all those more abstract mindset-related components can be just as skill-based. The key here is understanding how skills are put together and for this I have two major sources of inspiration: Suzuki Method and Montessori Method.

The Suzuki Method was developed by Shinichi Suzuki as a method for teaching very young children how to play a musical instrument. It is based on the idea that all children are capable of learning music and that those skills develop in a similar way as learning language. One of the things that is central to the Suzuki Method is this idea of breaking skills down into their smallest components. Children aren’t expected to simply pick up an instrument and start playing. Each microscopic motion—from hand position to finger moments—is practiced in isolation first, then eventually strung together with skills building on each other. Progress may be glacially slow at first, but suddenly, you blink and the child is playing Bach.

The Montessori Method is also focused on skill-based learning. In this case, the emphasis is on children working at their own pace (often in groups of mixed ages) and using specifically developed Montessori learning materials. These materials are deliberately designed to help children explore various abstract concepts in concrete, hands-on ways. Students often work in a self-directed way, exploring different stations around the classroom. The hallmark of a typical Montessori classroom is how quiet it often is, with students sitting on the floor with mats rolled out in front of them, doing various activities individually or in small groups. These activities teach children specific skills, like how to do a pincer grip to hold a pencil. 

If skill-based learning can be used to teach very young children how to play a musical instrument or how to understand complex mathematical concepts, it can certainly apply to adults wanting to develop their creative flow. The key is understanding that creative flow is not magic. It’s a teachable, learnable skill. All it needs is practice.

Practice, Practice, Practice

I’ve talked about practice here and here, and I’ve also interviewed experts on the topic of deliberate practice. You could say I’m a little obsessed with the idea of practice. But how does practice relate to creative flow?

In the words of my late, great violin teacher: “Practice doesn’t make perfect, Gabriela. It makes things permanent!” She’d often say this to me after I’d spent a week practicing the wrong notes and had to spend the next two or three weeks un-learning and fixing the mess I’d made.

As writers, we often practice things without even realizing it. For example, I know a lot of writers who practice the art of not finishing a project. They get caught up in what I call Perpetual Chapter One Syndrome, starting project after project but not finishing a single one.

Other writers practice the art of procrastination. They get into the habit of pushing back and postponing their writing, which makes it that much harder to get back on track. Or, some writers even practice the art of not writing. They hang out together in coffee shops talking about their writing projects but they never actually get around to putting words on the page.

As creative people, we need to take a step back and look at our writing practice with objectivity. Have we created any writing habits that are not serving us? Are there aspects of our regular writing process that don’t seem to be working? Where have we practiced problematic behaviors and turned them into bad habits?

If we identify any bad habits, we need to find a way to break them, which often takes longer than it did to create the bad habits in the first place. This is why it’s so important to assess our own writing practice and try to avoid creating bad habits before they become too ingrained in us. It’s easier to avoid a bad habit than it is to un-learn it.

Community

This is a topic near and dear to my heart, and it’s one of the three pillars of DIY MFA. Community is an important part of harnessing creative flow. Social accountability makes us more likely to meet our goals, Positive peer pressure of writing in tandem can help us knuckle down and get to work. And having a community’s support can help us build resilience and bounce back from creative disappointments.

Interestingly enough, community is also an important part of the Suzuki and Montessori Methods. In a traditional Suzuki music school, students often participate in group classes where they all bring their instruments and play through the repertoire together. If one student doesn’t know a particular piece, they sit down and listen while their classmates play. This type of environment creates motivation, where students are excited to learn new pieces because they want to play with their classmates. And for the students who know all the repertoire, these classes are a space where they can reinforce their learning.

In the Montessori Method, classes often mix the ages of the students. This means you might have a preschool classroom with children of ages three through five together. From a developmental perspective, these are vastly different ages. Yet, having these children together in the same class serves a very important purpose. When the children work together in groups, the older students set an example for the younger ones and show the younger students how to do the activity. The younger child might be learning from the older child, but the older one is also benefiting from the collaboration because they reinforce their knowledge.

In this way, both the Suzuki and Montessori Methods use community to help students learn. But community is not just for teaching young children. We as writers can use community as a way to learn and grow as well. For example, when we see fellow writers succeed, that shows us what’s possible and can motivate us to keep working, even when we feel discouraged. Community can contribute to our creative flow in any number of ways, which is why it is such a crucial part of DIY MFA.

Conclusion

Creative flow is not some mysterious, abstract thing that you have to figure out through trial and error or guesswork. Creative flow comes from developing concrete, learnable skills and building them into our repertoire. To achieve creative flow, we need to be aware of the mind-work cycle and recognize that our creative work impacts our minds as much as our minds impact our creative work. This means, if we notice a negative cycle happening, we need to break that cycle and course-correct.

In addition, we need to be aware of what skills we are practicing in our creative work and make sure that they are serving us rather than hindering. Practice can make habits permanent, so we need to scrutinize our habits and make sure we are not developing any that might get in the way of our creative flow.

Finally, we need to understand the role of community in our creative process and find a way to use it effectively. Whether we draw on other writers to help us hone our focus, or we use social accountability to help us reach our goals, community can be a great motivator. It can also be a source of support when we run into creative obstacles.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: Where Does Creative Flow Come From? appeared first on DIY MFA.

But there’s more to writing than just the writing itself. There are many elements that touch our writing but are not necessarily writing-related. Still, these elements can have a huge impact on how we get words on the page.

There are a lot of experts teaching about the craft of writing, but not as many who talk about the “other stuff” like resilience, focus, overcoming blocks, setting boundaries, and other such topics. This is why I created the DIY MFA FLOW Framework.

The DIY MFA FLOW Framework has four parts to it. These four components represent four different aspects of our creative lives. In fact, the word FLOW is itself an acronym. (And if you’ve been in the DIY MFA ecosystem for more than five minutes, you probably know we love our acronyms!)

• F = Find Your Focus
• L = Live Your Learning
• O = Overcome Your Obstacles
• W = Work Your Words

The idea behind the FLOW Framework is that all these ancillary skills which surround our writing are just that: skills. This means that they are teachable and learnable, not esoteric, amorphous concepts that are impossible to figure out. At DIY MFA, we believe that you can practice specific skills related to your creative life. Then you’ll have these skills in your back pocket, so you can implement them at crucial moments.

Find Your Focus

Focus is the foundational aspect of the FLOW framework, because without focus, none of the other FLOW components are feasible. In addition, focus is essential for getting words on the page and is a necessary first step to be able to write. No matter how many creativity hacks we might try, if we can’t focus, we can’t do our creative work.

Find Your Focus skills include how to:

• Set effective goals
• Find the right project that lights you up
• Make empowered choices
• Eliminate distractions
• Discern when to emphasize life vs. writing

Live Your Learning

As writers we are constantly learning. We like to learn new craft-related techniques. We also learn about our own subject matter so we can write compelling and authentic stories. In terms of the FLOW Framework, learning is the day-to-day maintenance piece. These are the skills we will draw on most often as we are living our creative lives.

Live Your Learning skills include how to:

• Determine our best writing process
• Handle failure and avoid guilt
• Use deliberate practice to learn new skills and techniques
• Develop ideas through imitation, improvisation, and incubation
• Structure your ideas and give them a concrete shape

Overcome Your Obstacles

Sooner or later, all writers hit bumps in the road. Whatever we might call it—writer’s block, resistance, “The Wall”—the result is the same. Sometimes we face a creative crisis and we need techniques to help us get through it. These skills are ones we may not draw on every day, but we want to practice them and keep them handy so that we have them when the need arises.

Overcome Your Obstacles skills include how to:

• Side-step obstacles by acting “As If”
• Use your creative identity to anchor you during tough moments
• Identify your creative monster and take away its power
• Craft a creative survival kit in case of emergencies
• Put together a Peace Corner to keep you grounded

Work Your Words

This element is the interpersonal part of the FLOW Framework. While the other elements address more individual aspects of the creative life, we must also accept that creative work exists in an ecosystem, and we must learn to navigate that system. This FLOW component is all about communication and using our words effectively with others.

Work Your Words skills include how to:

• Reframe language that does not serve you
• Use language for problem-solving
• Set boundaries with strategic word choice
• Ask for what you need effectively
• Redirect and deflect verbal attacks

Skill-Based Learning and the Importance of Practice

One thing to keep in mind with the FLOW Framework, is that the emphasis is not on vaguely understanding amorphous concepts. When I teach this framework, the main task at hand is for writers to learn specific, concrete skills, then practice them in a safe space—a journal, a worksheet, a virtual workshop—so that when the need arises, they have that skill ready.

This is not unlike how I teach the craft. Yes, there are certain aspects of writing that are very cerebral and abstract, but the goal is always to translate those amorphous ideas into concrete techniques that writers can implement right away. This is why so many of our programs at DIY MFA include a live classroom component, where writers can participate in real time.

It is difficult to practice skills in isolation, though not impossible. If you find you don’t have the opportunity to join a life workshop or take a class in real time, you can still learn techniques and practice them on your own. The key is learning to look at the work you do in practice with an objective outlook. There is one DIY MFA technique I find particularly useful for practicing both the technical aspects of writing and those ancillary skills represented in the FLOW Framework. It is called the Petri Dish Technique.

The Petri Dish Technique

The idea behind the Petri Dish Technique is that you identify the skill you want to learn, practice it in isolation, then put the technique back into context after you have solidified it. For example, imagine you want to learn how to write better dialogue. First you identify that dialogue is, in fact, the problem you want to solve. Next, you find some dialogue exercises online or in a book of writing prompts and you do those exercises until you feel like you’ve nailed down the dialogue. Then and only then do you go back into your work-in-progress and fix the dialogue throughout.

The reason this technique works so well is because it allows you to practice a technique outside the context of your current project. This lowers the likelihood of you tinkering your story to death and making your voice feel stilted and artificial. This is not unlike how scientists might take a cell sample from an organism, run tests on it in a petri dish, then infuse the cure back into the organism once they’ve solved the problem. The petri dish allows for a safe space to run those tests and not kill the organism in the process. The same is true with your writing.

But what about those ancillary skills from the FLOW Framework? How can we use the Petri Dish Technique with those?

In this case, we have to get a little more creative. Instead of doing writing prompts, we need to find some other safe space where we can practice those skills. I find journaling to be especially effective for this purpose. If I don’t have a circle of trust immediately handy where I can try some of the skills out on real people, I find that writing about the skill in a journal can be an effective alternative.

This is why, when I teach the FLOW Framework I like to have worksheets handy so writers can practice the techniques on the page. This is especially helpful because I find many writers to be introverts, and introverts don’t often want to practice techniques through roleplay or other more extroverted activities. For writers, processing concepts through pen and page is often more compatible with their introspective natures.

Reclaiming Your Creative Flow

If you’re having trouble finding your creative flow, start by using the FLOW framework to identify which area of your creative life needs the most attention. Is the problem that you feel scattered and can’t concentrate on your creative work (Focus)? Is it something relating to your everyday writing process (Learning)? Are you perhaps struggling with a creative crisis like writer’s block (Obstacles)? Is the issue one of setting boundaries or communicating your needs (Words)?

Once you have a sense for the overall cause of this lack of flow, look at some of the skills listed above and see if you can find one that might help address the issue. (Note: the lists of skills are by no means exhaustive, so you might identify something that’s not on a list. That’s okay!) After you’ve selected a skill, grab a journal and spend a little bit of time writing about it.

A great way to journal about this is with the “So What?” Technique. Start by making some sort of statement about the topic at hand, like “I don’t feel inspired to write.” Then write “so what?” Answer with another statement, then ask “so what?” again. Keep doing this for five or six “so whats?” until you hit on the core reason behind the lack of creative flow. After that, write a few paragraphs about what you’ve uncovered. The purpose behind the five or six “so whats?” is that they allow you to go deep and not stop at the most obvious answers.

There you have it: a step-by-step guide to reclaiming your creative flow, using the FLOW Framework alongside practical tools like the Petri Dish Technique and the “So What” Technique.

Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!

P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.

The post Writer Fuel: Lost Your Creative Flow? Use this Framework to Get it Back appeared first on DIY MFA.

At first, it’s not quite clear that you’re in deep trouble. This happens all the time to a writer. Hills and valleys, rushes and pauses just like always. 

You’re just taking a breather. But you slump in your chair. 

Then you get out of your chair, your room, your house. Make another pot of coffee, let the dog out, answer the phone, read a few emails. You think you’ll answer just one. Or two of the most urgent ones (Right now they’re all urgent). Then back to the keyboard. You start a sentence, and it suddenly goes off a cliff. You watch it crash and burn.

Or. 

You’re into your first rough draft or your second or third, and suddenly, inexplicably, or perhaps predictably, you’ve just stopped. You get up the next day, determined to rise from the ashes of your own faltering self and begin again. But where exactly is that? 

For the life of you, writer that you are, you cannot figure out how to go forward. You look back and it’s all a mess. It was never a good idea to begin with. 

Despair descends like the proverbial brooding clouds. Suddenly your shoulders feel weighted, you find it hard to swallow, your eyes swim with tears. Your heart is thrumming. Your life is over (your writing life is over). There will never be another word from you, so why are you just sitting there? 

Or maybe it’s not as dramatic as all that. Maybe you just don’t show up for your next writing time. There is always something else to do. And then the next time becomes the next and the next and then you can’t imagine you ever lived a writer’s life. You put your head down. You say “help.”

Then healing of your despairing writer’s soul begins.

You start by havening. This is a self-soothing technique that calms the amygdala inside your head and tells you that all is well. You slide one palm over the other and back again. You shut your eyes. You stroke your arms from shoulder to elbow, then your face. You think of a wonderful thing you wrote.    

Then you move. You put on some jazzy music and move your body through the rhythm and beat of it. Oh, maybe five minutes or so. Shake, rattle and roll with it. You release all that trapped energy of despair and make room for a new thing.

Now you go from inside, where all those accumulated demons have taken hold, to outside. And focus intensely on what is outside the self by immersion into the five senses. 

It’s really helpful to have a kind of first-aid kit, if you will, so find a nice little box and put these things in it. 

Or you can just focus on the five senses, one at a time, with the things that are at hand. 

Either way, you want full concentration on the sensations before you.

Here’s what’s inside my writerly first-aid kit:

5 things to hold up to the light:

Amethyst crystal (protection, intuition, spirituality)
Citrine crystal (creative process, happiness, light)
Lepidolite crystal (healing, calming)
Norwegian glacier stone (eternity)
White crystal (enlightenment, guidance)

5 things to touch

Irish worry stone
Petosky stone
Shiny blue polished glass. The words: To Life.
Clear, smooth crystal
Smooth Pale opaque blue stone. The word: Imagine

5 things to hear (from soft to loud)

Bells on a string
Baby wind chimes
Single bell
Buddha bells
Buddha gong

5 things to smell

Jasmine
Lavender
Honeysuckle
Frankincense
Bookstore candle. Light it. It really does smell like a bookstore.

5 things to taste

Chocolate
Chocolate
Chocolate
Chocolate
Chocolate

The sensory world has opened to everything. You are calm. You are not so much waiting, as ready. You can feel anticipation down to your fingertips. They yearn to touch the keys.

What you do now is embrace the arbitrary. Then make it inevitable. Get out of your logical, left-brain mind—it needs to be silent right now—and enter the right-brain: the intuitive, spontaneous side of you, and try these five things: You’re just playing around when no one’s looking. You don’t have to keep any of them.

1. Introduce an event that, on the face of it, has little to do with what you are writing. 

That is, make something improbable and unexpected happen. 

If you can’t think of anything, look at the props in the setting of the narrative you’re writing, or your life—your room, your house, your office. 

Something falls over, crashes, catches fire, slams shut, turns on, rings, pounds. Somebody screams, sighs, whimpers. Laughs. Why are they doing that? No matter, just describe them doing it. The phone rings. My God. What is the worst, the best it can be? 

Describe what can’t possibly happen, what shouldn’t happen, what positively won’t happen. Put these in a list. Surprise yourself with the outrageousness of it all. Ask yourself, but what if it did?

2. Introduce a new, totally unexpected character. 

Out of your dreams, back from the dead, out of the newspaper’s front pages. The mail arrives. It’s a letter you are afraid to open. The doorbell rings. Who is it? Somebody dead? A Celebrity? Who is the last person imaginable to walk on the set of the narrative of your life, your story? Someone you dread? Love? Fear?  

S/he’s already here. At the lawn, now at the door, the living room, the kitchen, yikes! into the bedroom. It’s your state senator, the mini-mart owner with buck teeth and a neck rash, Elvis Presley, Donald Trump, Oprah with a Sweepstakes check, the dead uncle with breath like stale radishes. He’s carrying an envelope. He shoves it at you.

3. Jump: If you can’t get from A to B, then jump to C or maybe V or Z. 

Jump in time, jump in space. See where you land. Breathe it in. There is some reason you’re here and not back there where you were lost and despairing. 

Try to imagine how this place or point in time is connected to the point in the narrative that had you stopped. It may be the heart of the story, only you don’t know it yet. It may be something you need to know more about but didn’t recognize until now. You look down this rabbit hole. You jump. 

Free-write for a minute or two about what you see.

4. Begin your narrative in a new place. 

Begin just before the end, then look back. Begin in the middle and flash forward. Begin just before everything falls apart.

5. Look at the ending, either one you’ve written or one you imagine.

Write three new opening lines that echo the ending, without repeating it. 

Read a poem. Underline three intriguing words. Write three opening sentences, each with one of those words in it.

Take a deep, cleansing breath that travels from head to toe. You’re back! Anything will do. Just a single, revelatory word will be all you need. Then just say “thank you.”

Ann Putnam is an internationally known Hemingway scholar who has made more than six trips to Cuba as part of the Ernest Hemingway International Colloquium. Her forthcoming novel, Cuban Quartermoon (June 2022), came, in part, from those trips, as well as a residency at Hedgebrook Writer’s Colony. She has published the memoir Full Moon at Noontide: A Daughter’s Last Goodbye (University of Iowa Press) and short stories in Nine by Three: Stories (Collins Press), among others. She holds a PhD from the University of Washington and has taught creative writing, gender studies, and American literature for many years. She has bred Alaskan Malamutes, which appear prominently in I Will Leave You Never. She currently lives in Gig Harbor, Washington.

You can find her on her website or follow her on Instagram and Facebook.

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