If you could see what is running (literally running, at hyperspeed) in my mind right now, you just might get whiplash. And it’s not like my mind is always racing, but as I was reading through our reflection prompts for class I suddenly became the Simone Biles of mental gymnastics. How do I begin to think about the creative part of projects?

Well, it happens just like that—suddenly and all at once, in a near-endless stream of creative consciousness.

But that’s not helpful. It’s like the opposite of helpful.

So I slow down and focus on one thing. It doesn’t need to be the right thing, just one thing. And I ask myself how this one thing relates to the goals of the project. If it even relates at all. If I can’t connect it, I file it away for Future Katie to deal with (she hates me, by the way 🤦‍♀️). And then I repeat until I have some version of a mind map… in my… mind.

You follow? Yeah, sometimes I don’t either.

Have you seen the Christopher Nolan film Inception? There are so many interesting things about it, but I’m particularly intrigued by the actual concept of inception. Narrowing down a message into its purest, simplest form. An emotion, feeling, or some value-driven message.

That’s what I’m looking for as I process my thoughts. Which of these things is the best expression of a value-driven message that directly relates to the learning goals of the project?

This is also an iterative process. So there may be an initial phase of just me processing my thoughts, a written brainstorm, an interesting journey on the internet (complete with entirely too many browser tabs), an actual mind map (thank you, Lucidchart), a mood board, scribbles on a notepad… whatever fits the project and the types of thoughts I have.

When I think about the creative elements of other projects I enjoy the most, whether it be games, stories, learning designs, or anything else, I find myself most appreciating when I feel some type of connection. And I mean that in the broadest sense of the word.

Connection as in I can see myself, where I am currently in life, in that content.

Connection as in I can see myself, where I aspire to be in life, in that content.

Connection as in I can see myself, where I have been in life, in that content.

Connection as in I can see myself, where I never hope to be in life, in that content.

Connection as in I can see myself, where I “what if” myself in life, in that content.

Connection as in I can see someone, or something, important to me in that content.

There is something I can relate to. Connection.

The Kingkiller Chronicle series by Patrick Rothfuss is absolutely wonderful. I feel a very strong connection to the story. But it’s a story about Kvothe, a lute-playing adventurer, neither of which describes me. But it’s about someone struggling with their past, someone trying to prove themselves worthy, someone on a personal quest for knowledge, and so much more. That is what I connect with. Kvothe is sometimes too smart for his own good and makes infuriatingly stupid mistakes; I’ve been there. Kvothe has insane musical talents that as a pretty decent violinist I can appreciate. Kvothe often finds himself struggling between worlds and the anxiety of similar situations I’ve been in all start to come back.

I also love that when I go back to the material, I find new meanings and new connections. A central concept to the books is the idea that to master a thing, you must know its name. And not name in the sense that I know the word for that particular object, but name in the truest sense of it. Much like the difference between knowledge and knowing. I loved that concept when I first read it, but it has even more meaning for me after taking Foundations of the Learning Sciences and learning about the acquisition and participation metaphors of learning (Sfard, 2008).

Okay, this reflection isn’t about the brilliance that is Rothfuss’ writing. It’s about creativity and narrative design.

We had another reflection prompt: How can my own interests inform my design narrative?

I spoke previously about my values and how they informed my design narrative. I think the same is true of my interests, albeit perhaps more subtle in their influence.

I love literature, gaming, fantasy, science fiction, true crime, film, dance, history, civics, and only the absolute cutest of animals (like sloths 🦥). How do those disparate interests influence my design narrative? Well, I mean, it’s all me.

My love of literature, for example, has influenced my writing style and shaped my perception of the world. My love of gaming has taught me perseverance (seriously, talk to me when after you’ve repeated the same level for the millionth time), strategy, creativity, and Russian curse words that I probably shouldn’t know. Fantasy has taught me that anything is possible and science fiction has taught me to expect the unexpected. True crime has taught me how to be safe as a woman that exists in the world. Film has taught me how to see things, quite literally, through a different lens. Dance has taught me how to express my thoughts and emotions when words fail me. History has taught me how we got to where we are and civics taught me the important role I play in shaping where we go. And sloths have taught me that it’s okay to be still.

I carry all of this with me with every project I work on, every word I write, and every element of my narrative.