Brainstorming: Put Down the Umbrellas

Freedom to write has created a new problem for me, one that afflicts all writers, novice or experienced––”What the heck do I write about?”

I know. Past lives. 

Two categories in Minnesota high school speech are creative expression and original oratory where the contestant writes his/her own piece and present it. Creative expression is more literary, while oratory usually concerns public affairs. Each year when I coached, a jittery, wide-eyed freshman gushed at the organizational meeting, “Yeah, that’s what I wanna do. Write my own stuff. I love writing. I do. I do. I really do!”

A week later at the first individual coaching session, I’d ask, “Do you have a particular topic in mind?”

“Uh...No. Something good, though.”

“Like what?”

“Uh….” Last week’s bright face sagged and turned ashen. Eyes watered. Cheeks twitched. Wringing hands grasped at pencils, erasers, stress balls, Cheetos...whatever was on my desk. Speaking consisted of snot-infested sup-sups.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s do a couple of breathing exercises,” I’d say. “Then we’ll try some brainstorming. It will be fine. I promise.”

The concept of brainstorming has received mixed reviews over the years, particularly in the business field. If you google the term, you will find numerous articles extolling the tool’s effectiveness, its value to the team-building process, and assorted other benefits. You will, however, find almost as many pieces about its failures, its divisiveness, and its wastefulness.

The problem with the process, as I see it, is that people naturally put up umbrellas against the storm of ideas. These umbrellas are:

1. They rely on their experiences.  
2. They dismiss ideas as impossible even before they’re fully articulated.
3. They analyze during generation, inhibiting the flow of ideas.

Consequently, solutions may be trite, half-realized, downright dull, and ultimately unworkable.

But brainstorming for writers is not the same animal as that used by businesses. We are not  problem-solving; we’re inspiration seeking. For us, it is an excellent tactic to get our creative juices moving.

When my speech students flailed about, lost and hopeless, searching for something to write, the first thing we did was eliminate the idea of story or speech from our minds. (I know that’s counterintuitive, but bear with me.) Nothing we had read or seen before could be considered. So, rather than imagining the finished product, we decided to let every new idea we could imagine rain down on us. The more, the better.

Then, we made lists––lots of lists––of objects, people, animals, events. We jotted down concerns, joys, sorrows. Nothing was too big. Nothing was inane. This step required us to put down the censor umbrella, the one that says, “That will never work. We can’t do that. That’s wrong.” Rather than curb the downpour of ideas, we let it flow over us.

Some people tried to open different colored umbrella attempting to analyze the viability of  an ideas as it was brought up. A metaphorical slap on their wrists brought us back to the task at hand, completing the lists.

By the end of the sessions, we had reams of “stuff”––things, characters, gripes, images. We were not damp with material, we were drenched!

Then came the fun part, the creative part. We played with it, all of it. We stomped in the puddles. We rolled in the mud. We made mudpies! 

That play transformed into inventive and intriguing stories and orations about a zoo monkey intent on becoming a doctor, a CNN newscast of the Norman Invasion of 1066, and a great-grandmother’s thank-you card. Even the Teddy Bear Lovers of America.

The lesson learned? When it comes to brainstorming ideas for writing, put down the defensive umbrellas, and just lift your face to the sky and let it rain!

More about idea lists are coming. But if you have your own methods, I’d love to hear them. Thanks.