It’s the age old question. Neil Gaiman says he finds his down the back of the garden in a box in a shed. I find if I cram my head with weird books, songs and conversation an idea will eventually arrive, often fully formed. [Tip: PANIC is never good, but not altogether bad as it forces you to think.]
This past Saturday I was about to go for a run. Instead I opted for a long, long walk. I was about to listen to my typical playlist: Bowie, The Arcs, Tony Allen. Instead I went for Mothership by Led Zepp, something I never listen to. I walked and walked, across Auckland’s new pink cycle bridge and through a cemetery. Sunlight hit the gravestones. ‘Black Dog’ burned my ears.
Ideas spilled out. 90 minutes later I had plot, character, title and all.
So. Switch up the norm. Amble inside that creepy shop. Drive a different route. Watch good movies. Watch shitty movies. Read that Norwegian thriller. Then relax. Empty your head. Fill it again. Repeat. Don’t force the issue. You’re a creative.
Your brain is ready. Give it a chance.
