It takes an instant to have a thought, a few seconds more to cast it into words or symbols, a few seconds after that to admire it or refute it or disregard it. My mind makes a quick set of clarifications, and then I have a decision: Is this idea a keeper?
I’m in the middle of washing dishes — suds to the elbows.
Rinse off the soap. Turn off the water. Dry my hands. (Ten seconds.)
I fumble for a pen and index card (a second or two) or find a clean page in a notebook (another three seconds) or go to the computer, wake it up, flip to the right window (add ten seconds), then page back through my memory to extract the idea, including all the refinements my subconscious has made while I was preoccupied with the mechanics of my “capture” technology.
I write it, save it, put it somewhere that matters, and that thought is saved — for a little while, anyway.
But what was the cost of all that? In time and energy? Forty seconds? Ninety seconds? Four minutes? Was it worth it?
Once I’ve scribbled an idea down, has this minor investment created an implied obligation towards this nascent idea: to transcribe it, put it in a system, review it, edit it, and connect it to everything else I’m thinking about at the moment?
Have I made a deposit in the bank of big ideas? Or have I incurred a debt that I’ll have to pay back? Can accumulating ideas leave us with more liabilities than assets?
Can you tell it is tax season by the financial metaphors?
Opportunity Cost
We often have our best ideas in the most inconvenient places or at the most inconvenient times.
Choosing which ones to capture is an editorial act — the initial edit. And this initial edit is the most essential, because each moment we spend on one idea is a moment that can’t be spent on other ideas or other projects, washing the dishes or listening to friends or living our lives.
Time and attention are the rarest ingredients of the creative process. Our use of them deserves the most thought, the most practice, the most consideration, and the most care.
We are finite. We can’t follow every idea to fruition. We have to let some thoughts go.
How do we decide which ones?
Questions
- How do you decide which ideas to write down or capture and which to let go? Does your approach consciously and deliberately change, depending on what you are working on? Or is it more circumstantial?
- Do you find yourself running out of new material to work on?
- What tools do you use to capture emerging ideas? Do these fit well with your creative process? Are you able to keep up with ideas as you have them?
- How many ideas or sprouts of ideas do you have laying around on index cards or in notebooks or emails? Do you have a backlog? Do you feel any pressure or obligation to do something with them?
Exercise
- Spend a day or two recording absolutely nothing. When a new thought enters your mind, mull it over, play with it, and then try to remember it without relying on any external “capture” or reminder system.
- Spend a day or two trying to capture everything.
- On the continuum between those two extremes, what works for you? When do you feel like you are capturing enough, without flooding your system? Consciously experiment with the balance between trying to keep every idea, and letting some of them go.
