Trying Not to Try: An Approach to Writing

I recently read a fascinating book called Trying Not to Try: The Art and Science of Spontaneity by Edward Slingerland. It’s an academic book about the Chinese ideal of wu-wei, which is loosely defined as strategic non-action or, paradoxically, the “action of non-action.” As I read, I found myself relating it to my approach to writing and re-writing the picture-book manuscripts I’m working on as part of my Picture Book Intensive semester at the Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA).

The idea is that body and mind are impressive to behold when they achieve effortless action – kind of like Luke Skywalker when he accesses the Force, or a jazz musician who is improvising. But how do we get into this flow? Through a blend of conscious and subconscious thinking.

Slingerland talks about how evolution has offloaded the bulk of our everyday tasks into our subconscious thinking, which he refers to as hot, automatic, fast, and reliable. We develop skills and habits that seep into this subconscious realm so we can think without thinking. The opposite of the subconscious is obviously conscious thought, which is cold, slow, and costly. When subconscious thinking hits a roadblock, conscious thought springs into action, assessing and trying to fix what is wrong. For me, this is the blend of the intuitive writing of a first draft and the analytical assessment of what I’ve written to figure out what to do next.

The book talks about how conscious control is crucial for civilized life. We need rules about how to live together in this world in order to keep our society functioning. I compare this to writing, which has “rules” we typically follow – and learn how to break when we need to.

Unconscious thought can be wild and untamed. Slingerland compares it to drug-induced writing in the 1960s, which seems brilliant when one is writing it but fails when one sobers. So unconscious thought needs conscious thought to domesticate it, like channeling flood waters. For me, this compares to “pantsing” versus plotting a story. I believe that pantsing only works for so long; at some point in the process, a writer needs to analyze a piece to see what she’s written and find its form.

In wu-wei, the conscious mind can acquire a new desirable goal (such as writing a first draft) and then download the goal onto the unconscious self, where it can be turned into habits and implemented without the need for constant monitoring. For example, learning to drive is a conscious task when we’re first learning it, but it becomes automatic.

How can we achieve wu-wei? Not through intentional effort. Slingerland refers to studies that show we get anxious when we’re trying to relax, depressed when we’re trying to be happy, etc. So we need to try not to try, desire not to desire, find contentment. It’s about keeping the conscious mind in check while being guided by the unconscious. It’s about putting some effort toward a goal without forcing it (trying, but not too hard). It’s about letting go of the goal and being open to the flow.

Of course, there’s a paradox built into wu-wei, which is: How can we try and not try at the same time? The idea is to think of the paradox as a design feature, rather than a problem to overcome.

For me, wu-wei relates to the process of writing and rewriting manuscripts. I have to chase my story idea, but not too vigorously. I have to cultivate beginner mind with each revision. I have to remember to play. I have to take none of it too seriously, even though it all matters to me immensely.

What about you? Does any of this strike a cord for you? Or do you disagree?