Tuesday, September 29, 2026

250 Words on Liminal Creativity


[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

In his book Backstage at the Strips, cartoonist Mort Walker told an anecdote I love about James Thurber's wife, Helen, catching her husband staring into space at a dinner party. "James!" she scolded. "You're writing again!"

Some time ago, cartoonist Raina Telgemeier wrote that "The very earliest stages of writing a new project very much resemble 'doing nothing' and feel incredibly unproductive, but…I at least know this is important and worthwhile and that I can trust myself. Or so I hope."

One morning my wife, Karen, awoke before dawn to find me propped on the headboard, staring into the dark. "What are you doing up?" she asked. "Writing," I said.

I figure I get more than half of my best creative ideas lying in bed immediately after waking up. I believe cartoonist Lynn Johnston said the same in one of her books, and ascribed it to being in a relaxed semi-dreamlike state. 

I think that's right. Ideas inspired by actual dreams are usually too random and unstructured, and never as good in the light of day. But right after I wake up, my brain is often in a fluid state I can guide to my creative advantage.

I keep a notebook by the bed to capture these flickering embers, which are almost always useful and usable. What I do with them in daylight—the refining, writing and drawing—is just mechanics. The heavy lifting is done before I get up. I've learned to trust the process.

Or so I hope.

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