In his article “14 Ways to get Breakthrough Ideas” (http://changethis.com/manifesto/show/49.06.14Ways) Mitch Ditkoff makes several well-constructed suggestions (14 of them, in fact) for people in any field who want to be innovative, or rather, to spark the innovation to conjure something quite fantastic where previously there was nothing of any significance. The imaginative mind could easily convince itself that in this piece, Mr. Ditkoff is teaching us how to perform magic, for in all honesty, what is innovation if not truly magic? I can easily see how these suggestions would be helpful to the creative mind, but as with most things I read, there are points with which I agree, and points with which I take issue.
The suggestion of Ditkoff’s which I like the most is his first point; “Follow Your Fascination.” This I think is a piece of advice that every creative mind to take to heart. Or take to brain. In any case, the thing we call fascination is itself not something that can be conjured or created. Fascination simply occurs. What Ditkoff suggests is not to create fascination, but simply to obey it. This is something that we often have trouble doing, not because we are not fascinated by things, for all of us are fascinated by something. The trouble is, it is often difficult to fully see how fascination can be refined into something productive; how an idea can become invention. Ideas are like raw materials, like lumps of coal dug from the ground, and it’s often the case that our brains can’t perceive how these nuggets of coal could ever be reformed into diamonds. What Ditkoff is saying is that just because we cannot perceive the evolution of idea to invention, of coal to diamond, does not mean we can ignore the ideas completely. For one thing, it’s impossible. Fascination ensures that such ideas cannot be ignored. For another thing, in doing so we miss opportunities to create something beautiful out of what previously was nothing more glamorous or significant than a lump of coal.
Number 12 on Ditkoff’s list is another one of my favorites; “Look for Happy Accidents.” If one has any interest in creating anything, then one must be willing to allow chance to make its own suggestions. It’s likely that fate, or God, or the universe, or what have you, is constantly making suggestions for creative minds to pluck out of the air, but the majority of us are too busy to notice. I remember when I was in high school, the theater department would put on three student-run one act plays in the spring, and I resolve to myself that I would write one. I spent a majority of the preceding summer trying to think of ideas of what on Earth I could possibly want to write a one-act show about, and by July, I had only the vague idea that I wanted to see people just working, but in such a fashion that they would be constantly interacting with whoever came into their establishment. I was thinking “wouldn’t that be interesting, to work in a place where you aren’t quite sure what sort of people were going to walk in, or what sort of things they would want to purchase.” But again, this was an entirely vague idea, and so my creative process came to a halt. Later that month, however, I went on a family visit to San Francisco, and the first afternoon I was there, I had lunch in a sandwich deli called “Working Girls.” I began imaging what kind of characters the people working behind the counter would interact with, day in and day out, and in San Francisco of all places. Hippies, hipsters, businessmen, policemen, lawyers, writers, poets and workers, all walking along a street in the Financial District and suddenly deciding they wanted a sandwich. What sort of things would these characters say? What sort of things would these characters eat? It was while I was there that I realized where in fact my play took place. Not where it should take place, but where it did take place. Where it had always taken place, and where it would continue to take place. When I finally started writing, I had CNN on in the background, blasting reports about the Russian invasion of Georgia, and so the invasion became a subplot. I was eating popsicles at the time, the sort of popsicles with jokes printed on the wooden sticks, and so these popsicles became a running joke within the context of the play. I realized that writing, like any form of creation, didn’t necessarily have to be spontaneous, but could also be a reaction to the environment in which the creation occurs. In an environment where fate and chance are very active players, the creator must be willing to let accidents and happenstance influence his or her creation.
The suggestion that Ditkoff makes that I disagree with the most would be Number 8; “Take a Break.” While relaxation is important in any endeavor, creative or otherwise, I don’t think that walking away from a problem can truly lead to a solution. Now, I see how this may seem to contradict what I just wrote, about how my trip to San Francisco ended up helping me when I was stuck. I can see how this seems like I was walking away from my problem, only to find it solved for me, but in truth I never stopped thinking of how to continue writing. If I had put the play out my mind, it’s possible I never would have recognized that the accidental stop at Working Girls was a breakthrough in my creative process. In my opinion, creative minds can never really “take a break.” Their minds, like that of Sherlock Holmes, rebel at stagnation. When inventors come to a wall that they can’t break down, they do not walk away from it. They find a way around, over, or underneath it. No problems truly solve themselves, and no inventions truly invent themselves. Solutions and inventions come about because not because their creators turned away and let “elves” take over, but rather because they came at the issue from a different direction. Now, perhaps this sideways approach comes about easier when creators engage in some other activity for a time, but in that case I would amend Number 8 to suggest “Take a Break, but Don’t Stop Thinking.”
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