file000590219975Today is a very disjointed day. I’m feeling the after-effects of yesterdays non-stop running around, and still reeling from the news that I finally get to see my girlfriend… after almost eight long months of anticipation. All of that combined, leaves my brain in a state of limbo… no real motivation to write… no idea WHAT to write, but with the help of my awesome writer’s group… I’m writing about disjointed writing. (clear as mud, huh?)

I hear tell of a strange beast in the jungles of the mind called Stream of Consciousness writing. I remember doing some examples in High School, but always lost track of it. I hear that it can lead you down any number of paths… exploring empty mines of vague and crazy information and ideas and memories,.. switch back on you and lead you in a completely different direction. The best part about chasing this beast? Anything and everything is perfectly fine… no topic too taboo, no direction is wrong, and Mr. Editor can go take a flying leap off the nearest cliff, because grammar has left the building, too.

Another way of releasing some brain steam is to play the, “Let’s see where this goes.” game… where you just pick something at random, or pick a writing prompt from online (there are hundreds of thousands to choose from)… and write. Write about what you know… write from the heart (remember, the brain ain’t working too well at this time)… write where the idea drags you off to. The second you get stuck? Pick another idea/prompt and start hacking at the underbrush.

Completely frazzled yet? How about just trying something completely NEW (and improved!) Can’t even get a few words down? Try dissociative writing (A.K.A. Writing without thinking). Start with a word, where’s it go? Next word, no thought… chase it down… then move on to the next part of the wall. Keep going… set a timer to know when to stop, and then DON’T stop until that timer goes off.

Whatever you do… just don’t stop writing. Write for writing’s sake and keep at it… even with no direction and my brain wandering off, poking at the wild pig it found in the underbrush, it still found the wherewithal to write a post today.