8 Clicks from Nowhere Productions

Category: [2026] The First Year

  • Autocorrect Coworker

    I went for a walk and decided to use my technology to help me brainstorm ideas.

    I opened up the notes app. I stuck my wireless headphones in my ears. I hit the transcribe button on the little virtual keyboard. And I started walking through the nature-adjacent path. 

    A lot of great ideas wound up in the little digital notepad.

    And then also… a lot of weird broken ideas pulled from the blur of whatever happens when autocorrect meets ambient nature noises meets me failing to articulate my voice while talking to myself in the woods. 

    My phone tended to get my transcription brainstorming session about ninety percent right… and then seemed to hallucinate a few other things it must have thought I might have said.

    One might think that this cause me to be upset, and sure, at first it kind of did.

    But then a strange thing happened. A few—not all, but a few—of the typos and misheard corrections started making sense, and too, muddling serendipitously into interesting ideas. 

    It was nothing revolutionary. No. It was nothing deeply groundbreaking. Yet, somehow—whether is was some algorithm trying to make sense of my rambling ideating or just fortunate murmurings transcribed into something slightly better than gibberish—technology actually did slightly more than I expected when I asked it to help me brainstorm. 

    It became more than just a digital transcriptionist, it weighed in… perhaps accidentally, but also not lacking in value or merit either.

  • Stepped Inspiration

    I’ll be the first to admit that inspiration is not motivation, but one definitely can lead to the other.

    As I write these words I just got back from a long walk. I slipped on my winter shoes, I grabbed my headphones, locked the door behind me and stepped out into the still-snowy paths of a late-February morning. (Yeah, I’m also writing these a week or so ahead of when I post them!) 

    I went out looking for inspiration.

    I had sat down to write something before even deciding to go on a walk and I got stuck. My brain froze up. The Blankwraith crept into my head and froze up my thinker, fingers hovering over the keyboard in empty headed paralysis. 

    But then, simple as it sounds, within five minutes of stepping out the door something loosened up and the ideas started flowing. I’ll write in a future post about the importance of carrying a note-taking tool, but needless to say I opened mine, still within sight of my house, and started jotting.

    My walk lasted an hour. I did a loop around our local suburban neighborhood, trudging through the sloppy, icy sidewalks. And every couple of minutes I would pull out my notes and add another sentence or two to the stack. 

    I counted. I had jotted down thirty-two unique ideas.

    By the time I got home and walked in the door, my biggest concern wasn’t lack of ideas but lack of time to get them turned into little two hundred word essays.

    I went for a walk looking for inspiration and it turns out they were hanging out just down the street.

  • Opinionated Facts

    My opinion is not fact.

    Elsewhere, I do a lot of writing about critical thinking and evidence-based inquiry. That is to say, I am curious about curiosity and the mechanisms by which we learn, know, and believe things to be true.

    If they are actually true is an entirely different matter, of course.

    I was watching a video the other day, a review for an audio product of some sort, and after a lot of “shoulds” and other such recommendations by the host he looked right into the camera, his voice changed tone, and he solemnly added the caveat to his entire product rant saying “…but my opinion is not fact, it’s just my opinion. Do your own research.”

    What a great thought.

    This concept of opinion versus fact too often, in my opinion, goes unsaid.

    A lot of us making and creating and sharing find it easier to do so without the burden of evidence or absolutes. We write something and then hang it out there for evaluation, all the while never adding that asterisk of self-checking: adding, perhaps that this is just an opinion, my opinion, and I stand by it, but you should make your own judgements after all. 

    This is my opinion, everything I write here, all the advice and so-called insight. My ideas. My thoughts. My scribbles. My notions, and all of it based in my singular experience. It’s not fact, unsaid as I often leave it to be.

    Take it for what it is worth. Nothing more, nothing less.

  • Right Wrong

    I want you to disagree with what you read or hear on this project.

    I’m not trying to write cozy aphorisms to make you comfortable in your creative pursuits. I want you to squirm a little when I tell you that your skills might not actually be as important as you think they are, that gates are not meant for keeping and that responding to market forces, meme-culture and focus groups are at best vapid and hollow, and at worse patronage to a soulless master.

    I want you to object. I want you to rethink. And then I want you to adjust your perspective a little bit even if you roll your eyes at my presumptive arrogance on the topic of your skill.

    If you take away anything from reading these posts or listening to my podcasts you should be a little irked that some random guy could have the gall to call your boardroom-style pursuit of personal brand and textbook-grade art and commercially viable chord progressions anything but magical. 

    Comfortable is complacent. 

    Clean is boring. 

    Perfection is the pursuit of the placid and flaccid.

    Following the rules is the domain of algorithms and what AIs now seem to do best. Not you, tho, do you?

    Wrong is more right than you want to admit, and I’m willing to punch you in the creative gut if it helps you realize that simple notion for even a few moments.

  • Amateur Appeal 

    I recently wrote a piece on this blog about breaking from the conformity of rules when we create, suggesting in my two-hundred word blog-conforming limit that stepping outside of the guardrails presented by this idea of your art needing to be so-called “commercial viable” might be a means to escape from a constraint imposed on your feeling of accomplishment and ability.

    I was thinking about this in a different context: the amateur effect.

    That is to say, sometimes amateurs create things that break rules not because they want to break away from constraints of the form, and also not because they are unencumbered by a debt to the patronage of a person or system that limits professionals, but rather, simply because they simply haven’t internalized those same rules that might otherwise limit them. They break rules because they didn’t know they existed, and occasionally stumble upon something worth considering through that process.

    It is, of course, far from given that amateurs can de facto make interesting contributions to an art just because they are new to the craft, and even if we could, it could also be argued that accidental creation is neither consistency nor necessarily something to be proud of.

    But it is interesting, the notion that I might take up a new hobby in a style of music, or mode of painting, or craft of prose and by virtue of accident make something not just reasonably good, but rule-bending enough for someone better at the effort to consider their cherished rules and skills as something that can, on occasion, be bent a little bit.