Impulses: Exploring a Method of Artistry & Integrity

Caveat: For some, this may be a little farfetched, “woo-woo,” or even weird. But to the open-minded folk, darling, this is for you.

When I was young, I’d write, illustrate, format, and produce full books in a day. Yeah, I was nine years old, but it still counted. When I started a creative piece, I finished it before the end of the day. That method worked for me then.

From an adolescent to university student then later to language arts teacher, time was unfortunately not on my side. Papers and grading and events got in the way, and the methods that “worked” were of the sporadic binging type. (Not good, I know.)

Now, as an aspiring full time creative, I make the writing happen. This time of my life is dedicated to embracing my inner multipassionate spirit, which means I need a method for consistently creating art while keeping its essence as true to who I am as possible.

So what strategy best serves both art’s integrity and artist’s sanity?

Impulses.

In my Dance Improvisation class, we were introduced to a practice called Authentic Movement. This practice allows the dancer to move based on their inner impulse of the moment, the feeling that is true to them at that time. And we dance while our eyes are closed. No judgement, simply movement.

In addition, there is a witness, who serves as the container to ensure the dancer remains safe and as the observer who sees the movement without any personal interpretation. Like looking at a garden and appreciating the beauty it offers without analyzing design, symbol, or history. Just art for art’s sake.

Within an agreed span of time (sometimes around 30 minutes), the dancer explores who they are by what moves them. So rather than the dancer picking the moves, the moves choose the dancer.

This same practice can be applied to our work as writers. You are both the dancer and the witness. The dancer when you write and the witness when you read what you have written.

Before

Set a timer for 25 minutes (Pomodoro Technique, anyone?) with a subtle / soothing alarm . If you’re an iPhone user, “Radar” or “Twinkle” are the two I usually choose.

Then go to a quiet place and close the door. Lock it if necessary. Then sit and listen with your eyes closed, fingers on the keyboard or wrapped around your pen.

During

Check in with how you feel. Bring your story in the form of your characters with your outline to mind, then wait for the scene to present itself. Don’t try to push the words out. Listen.

Once the scene appears in your mind’s eye, write. And I encourage you to keep your eyes closed throughout the process if you can. (Trust me, it’s so exhilarating. Like running in complete darkness, but knowing you won’t crash into anything.)

After

When the scene has emptied onto the page, either walk away from your writing space or repeat the process with the next scene.

Sometimes, you might not want to follow the impulse that comes your way. That’s okay. You can let it go and wait for the next one.

Although they’re worth exploring, I tend to let go of the horror story impulses. Not because I don’t like them, but because this time of my life doesn’t allow the best circumstances for ’em. So I send ’em off when they do appear.

By writing through impulses, we write what’s authentic. True to the story. Yes, the scenes may be among the darlings you slay, but they’re the realest form of your story. The story that wants to be written because you’re letting the ideas bloom from within rather than tearing the seed apart.

Give impulses a try, even once. The worst that can happen is that you have a document filled with gibberish you can toss in the garbage.

But, in my experience, more likely than not, you just might be walking into a gold mine.

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