From as far as I can remember, I’ve always liked to use automatic/free writing. Some of my first texts, written when I was in primary school, were created using this technique.
I had no idea at this time that the surrealists had named such a technique, it just came naturally to me when I was looking for inspiration or when I was in a “poetry” mood.
When I use this technique, I actually often add a layer of semi-conscious self-censorship. I think I can work with a “range” of censorship, the first layer being allowing myself just a fraction of a second to notice I’d like to censor a particular word and use the next word that comes to my mind, for instance. If I like the outcome, I can then work on it by removing spelling mistakes, etc.
I discovered very recently that “automatic writing”in English refers mostly to a paranormal writing technique. In this post I only refer to a writing/prewriting technique, coming straight from my own brain 🙂
A year and a half ago, I tried to write “automatically” in English, instead of my usual French. It contains a lot of Doctor Who references I couldn’t help my pen to write :p
Here is the result:
A taste of love and sadness spreads through my mind. Should I be afraid of what is happening? Can you just sit there and watch him die? Can you just find another key to the door, the one that will stay alive forever even in your wildest dreams… The door has opened, please enter and find inside what you really need. Listen carefully to the songs that the mad man in the box is singing. Listen to the Oods as they are trying to gain respect and stay calm. So much for the fun, so much for the madness, you are now completely adorned by the moving scent of a wild goose and you want to die but you know you can’t, you’re immortal. Actually that may even be better than not being able to feel pain and sadness and disease. Are you sure you’re in the right place? Do you think you’re doing the right things? I seem to be repeating myself but it’s better than nothing and time is running. Time may be timey wimey, wibbley wobbley stuff, but it’s also the essence of our lives and you should be afraid of it sometimes. You should have a look outside this beautiful window and notice how strange the world really is. How often have I wandered in the forest of lost souls, searching for a heart to break, for a brain to beat. Cats meowing everywhere, and you’re not there. You’re where the stars are, you’re lost in your despairing quest for knowledge and power and you wish you could do anything differently but fate seems to remind you that you can’t.