The No-Mind Creative Process

My creative writing process is something that I initially developed through painting. When I applied it to writing, some crazy things began to happen, culminating in the creation of two novels so far. Ascender’s Prophecy and Gordon’s Feast (which is in its final stages of editing as I write this).

At its core, my creative process is all about removing the ego from the act of creation. When I say ego, I’m referring to that part of us that produces the inner narrative, with its logic, judgements, and labels. It’s the part of our mind that sets limits and stifles potential. In painting, my ego is a hindrance. It’s like having someone looking over my shoulder, analyzing each stroke, each colour combination, each order of execution. It looks at what’s on the canvas and says “That sucks…” or “That’s brilliant…” but each time it does this, it pulls me out of the place I want to be working from. Namely, my inner core, or my higher-self.

Writing is no different to painting. The moment I “try“ to write, I write mediocre things at best. Nothing of any value comes out when my ego’s involved. It’s only when I let go and let the narrative flow through me that the magic starts to happen.

I started dabbling in writing in my teens and by the time I was twenty it was part of my life. I’ve always kept journals. It got to the point that I started binding my own journals and covering them in leather from old jackets and travelworn packs. I would sketch in my journals as well, and each drawing would always begin with my eyes closed, moving the pen around the paper, tracing out vaporous shapes I’d see in my mind. Then I’d open my eyes and look for images in the scribbled lines. From there, detailed drawings would emerge.

One day I tried it with writing. I put my pen down on the page and began to write, but the thing was this: Once I started, I didn’t allow myself to stop, if no word came up my pen would remain on the paper, waiting and ready. Perhaps it was gibberish that bubbled up, like: plagggtameratioooooo…

When the page was full of twaddle I’d stop writing and read through it. There were always really good bits in the madness. Poetic gems. But then one day something completely unexpected happened. A story began to tell itself in a voice I’d never heard in my head before. It was the voice of a narrator, and as it sounded, I faithfully scribbled out what it said. It came rapidly, and steadily. On occasion my writing would revert back into gibberish, but it would always return to the narrative again.

The very first manuscript of Gordon’s Feast was what came from that first experience. I can remember the day it started. It was back in 2003, and I was with my brown hunting dog, Indiana Jones. We’d just moved to Aix-en-Provence and were scouting out a new walking route. We weren’t having much luck until we came to a gatehouse that opened onto what appeared to be private grounds. Beyond the barrier were manicured lawns, beautiful trees, and hills of green grass. It was several acres at least, with beautiful baroque buildings scattered around the grounds. It was spring and the trees were in bloom. I thought the place must be a university, but there were no students anywhere.

Indi was up ahead, so he arrived at the gatehouse first. I watched him duck in and I followed him through. There was a guard there but he just smiled and nodded as we passed. Indi bolted off to investigate a stand of trees and I found a shady patch of grass and began to write. I did so in the way that I’ve described. I guess you could call it stream of consciousness writing.

We visited that place every morning, and with the exception of the occasional solitary figure wandering around aimlessly, the grounds were pretty much deserted. By the time three months had passed I’d written the first manuscript of Gordon’s Feast. It was a very peculiar story, about a boy lost in a strange world, searching for a way out, so as to get back to a girl he’d fallen in love with. I’d no sooner finished the story than I discovered something that, to me, explained the tale’s surreal content. The grounds we’d been visiting belonged to a private mental institution. I would later incorporate this into the novel that came from the manuscript, along with a wonderful fantasy/adventure story that revolved around the events of the manuscript.

A few years later, while living in Toronto, I decided to write a novel that would become The Compostela Cube, the precursor of Ascender’s Prophecy. I wanted this novel to explain a Theory of Everything that I’d become intrigued with creating; one that unified religion and science, and answered all the big questions about life and death, and the meaning of life. It was a huge undertaking to say the least, and that for my first crack at novel writing, but I decided to apply the same creative process I’d used in Aix-en-Provence.

So, I sat there at my computer and I began to type out the first words that came into my head. Sure enough, a story began to materialize. It was the same inner-narrator who had related Gordon’s Feast, and it moved from scene to scene, like a movie. Soon it was relating elements of what appeared to be a complex plot. I had no idea what was going on, but I just went with it. At the end of the day, I’d fill up an old clawfoot tub I’d bought from a junk yard, light up some candles, and soak in the steaming water, thinking about what I’d written and trying to make sense of it all. I’d ask myself, Who was that guy? Why did he say that? How does it connect to that other character? What the hell is going on here?

Amazing things started to happen as I moved forward into the story. Days, weeks, and months passed. My friends began to worry. I was obsessed. Crazy things were transpiring in the story. Characters were talking about historical and geological events I had no knowledge of. When I’d google it, I’d find evidence that confirmed their veracity. It was uncanny. Strange conspiracy theories began to appear in the narrative, presented in a way that seemed almost mythological. It’s beyond the scope of this article to get into the details, but let’s just say that I began learning about ancient and obscure religions, and their connection to the six major world religions, as well as theosophy, philosophy, quantum mechanics, geology, and cutting edge theories that spoke of a multiverse and a scientifically validated collective consciousness mirroring Carl Jung’s work. It was all quite incredible.

All total, I spent about seven years writing and researching the original Compostela Cube, and it changed me as a person. Finding the answers to the big questions has made me see life and my place in it in a completely different way. It’s been this thirst for knowledge and meaning that’s been the fuel for my creative process in writing. About ten years ago, I pulled out that old handwritten manuscript I’d written in Aix-en-Provence and used this very same process to expand it into an epic fantasy novel that’s every bit as spiritual as Ascender’s Prophecy. I’m hoping to have it published by next year.