Changing Gears
In 1993, I purchased a used cherry-red 1990 Mitsubishi Eclipse GSX. She was fast, nimble, and underpowered. Wait a minute. My car is a female. Her name was Kim (all great cars need a name.) Kim had a finicky personality and needed to drive on roads with tight corners. She challenged me to drive as fast as possible on every drive, and we both loved the open road. What about the underpowered bit? Kim had less than 120 horsepower and weighed far too much. So, when I needed to accelerate, I dropped a gear and booted it. Kim took off like a shot with a whoosh of her turbo. Yeah, I loved every second.
The problem with Kim is that she began showing her age, parts became scarce, and the bills were piling up. I had to sell her, which was a sad day. I replaced Kim with an Audi TT 225. That car was better designed, lighter, and had 100 more horsepower. What, no name? He or she had no personality and did not get a name. Why? When I wanted to go faster, I touched the accelerator without gear changes or the woosh of the turbo. (The talented Audi engineers worked very hard to silence engine noises.) Also, there was no joy, and I sold him or her four years ago because he or she also began showing her age.
What does this have to do with writing? Kim, my first Toyota truck, and the Audi were stick-shifted. The other cars drove were not. A stick car requires a clutch, which results in vastly different driving experiences.
On any day, I could jump in Kim and take off without thinking of it. Or I could climb into my dad’s automatic “Van of Death” and drive off without concern. I did not require any mental to change between a stick and an automatic car.
How did I accomplish such a feat? Honestly, I have no idea. These two driving styles are vastly different and require lots of driving experience. My theory is that humans have some muscle memory that seamlessly allows the mind to switch between two radically different transmission types.
The same is true in writing. Presently, I am creating two new articles, self-editing four books, writing two book reviews, and working on outlines for three new books. Each has a different plot, style, goal, and characters.
When I switch from one to the next, my mental muscle memory takes over, and the details (names, writing style, and plots) automatically click. Have I ever made an “I forgot to apply the clutch before changing gears” kind of writing mistake? An example would be using the main character of book A in book B. I only recall one mistake in the thousands of hours of effort.
I find it fascinating that my mind can make these leaps between writing projects. One would think some preparation would be necessary, like reading a list of character names. Books contain thousands of details, and it is natural to assume they should be confusing, but they are immediately apparent to me. This feels exactly like jumping into a different car. I start it up and drive without drama. The human mind is indeed strange. It can do extraordinary things, but it has significant limitations.
You’re the best -Bill
July 15, 2020 Updated March 08, 2025
The problem with Kim is that she began showing her age, parts became scarce, and the bills were piling up. I had to sell her, which was a sad day. I replaced Kim with an Audi TT 225. That car was better designed, lighter, and had 100 more horsepower. What, no name? He or she had no personality and did not get a name. Why? When I wanted to go faster, I touched the accelerator without gear changes or the woosh of the turbo. (The talented Audi engineers worked very hard to silence engine noises.) Also, there was no joy, and I sold him or her four years ago because he or she also began showing her age.
What does this have to do with writing? Kim, my first Toyota truck, and the Audi were stick-shifted. The other cars drove were not. A stick car requires a clutch, which results in vastly different driving experiences.
On any day, I could jump in Kim and take off without thinking of it. Or I could climb into my dad’s automatic “Van of Death” and drive off without concern. I did not require any mental to change between a stick and an automatic car.
How did I accomplish such a feat? Honestly, I have no idea. These two driving styles are vastly different and require lots of driving experience. My theory is that humans have some muscle memory that seamlessly allows the mind to switch between two radically different transmission types.
The same is true in writing. Presently, I am creating two new articles, self-editing four books, writing two book reviews, and working on outlines for three new books. Each has a different plot, style, goal, and characters.
When I switch from one to the next, my mental muscle memory takes over, and the details (names, writing style, and plots) automatically click. Have I ever made an “I forgot to apply the clutch before changing gears” kind of writing mistake? An example would be using the main character of book A in book B. I only recall one mistake in the thousands of hours of effort.
I find it fascinating that my mind can make these leaps between writing projects. One would think some preparation would be necessary, like reading a list of character names. Books contain thousands of details, and it is natural to assume they should be confusing, but they are immediately apparent to me. This feels exactly like jumping into a different car. I start it up and drive without drama. The human mind is indeed strange. It can do extraordinary things, but it has significant limitations.
You’re the best -Bill
July 15, 2020 Updated March 08, 2025
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