There’s a writing problem that I’ve had for some time (I’ll get into this later), and it made me think about how valuable some relational leadership concepts are to creativity.
Stay with me here . . .
In my course at OSU, I dedicate a lot of time to the topic of social responsibility as it pertains to individual interactions and community impact. I assign a team project that undergraduates take on as a way of exercising their leadership skills by addressing an issue that means something to them.
When I ask them to create a list of social and community problems they’d like to solve, they begin with things like “eliminate homelessness” or “save our planet/environment,” and get overwhelmed. How can they make a difference in one semester? In a group of five? With no money?
To answer, I ask them to create a problem statement/question that correlates with their chosen issue, such as “How can I get people to stop littering on campus?” or “How can I decrease homelessness in Central Ohio?”
Then I ask them to research the issue itself and find reasons these problems persist. What is the cycle that feeds these problems? Take a magnifying glass and find a little pinhole from which you can disrupt the problem loop.
For instance, if they are concerned with the environment and decide to tackle littering on campus, a team might research the issue and find out that litter always collects in a particular place, which would allow them to refine a problem with a more systematic question . . . “Why is there so much trash near the lake?”
Upon asking this more specific question, a group might notice that there isn’t a trash can or recycling bin anywhere near this common area to chill and study. Maybe they’ll notice a common area where a sign might remind students to take their trash with them. And so on …
Ultimately, the students are able to construct realistic ways to make an impact by identifying the pattern (the systematic issue) and how they can interrupt the problem loop by interrupting this pattern at some accessible point within this loop.
So here’s an example from my writing life.
I write a lot of exceedingly long sentences. Unnecessarily long sentences.
This has been a blind spot for me since graduate school, and it is one that was recently pointed out by a brilliant woman who plainly stated that my circuitous sentences were exhausting (and I agree — have you noticed this sentence is exceedingly long?).
“How can I stop writing long sentences?” I wondered, and I thought about my class.
I started investigating my writing and noticed that my long sentences show up far more often than I could’ve imagined. They’ve haunted me for a long time and likely stem from a desire to sound smart, I thought. But no! I investigated further and noticed that I tend to write long sentences when I’m “in the flow.” I write them at the openings and endings or during digressions. They are my default.
So I refined my question.
“What techniques can I adopt to improve the cadence of my writing?” So I built in a checkpoint for digressive writing in my revision process. I’ll let you be the judge as to whether it works moving forward. I doubt I’ll abandon my long darlings altogether, but perhaps I’ll address them here and there.
If there is a recurring problem you’re facing creatively, personally, or socially, see if you can find the loop and disrupt it. Because why not try? If you do, let me know how it goes.
*Speaking of problems, I opened up a new meditation on pain. Find & download by clicking the podcast. It’ll be open to free subscribers for a week and paid subscribers indefinitely.