Ini pertama kali muncul di buletin Lit Hub’sCraft of Writing—daftar di sini.
Cultivating a writer’s mind frame means looking at the world a certain way—that is, as a source of material. Everything you see is a potential writing prompt. Everything you experience should make you ask, “What if…” Most fiction writing starts by asking “what if.” For that matter, that’s how most scientific advancements begin too. You need curiosity.
Einstein said, “I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious.”
I am fortunate enough to know a lot of successful artists, writers, creators, scientists, and entrepreneurs and so I often look for the one trait the best of the best all share:
Curiosity. Genuine curiosity. Even better, childlike curiosity.
What if is the question of a curious child.
It’s also one of the key ways we come up with and develop ideas. Not the only way. We will explore others. But true innovators keep asking “What if?”
“Where do you get your ideas?”
Sometimes, it’s a simple “what-if.”
Let me give you a quick example of how a “what-if” led to an idea for a novel.
So one day, when I was at my neighbor’s house, I overheard their teenage kids talking about drinking and driving. This was in the pre-Uber days. I adored these teenagers. They were utterly fantastic kids. I felt obligated to do something, so when I knew their parents were out of earshot, I quietly pulled the teenagers aside and whispered, “Promise me”—this would end up being the title of the book—“you won’t do that. Promise me you’ll never get in a car with someone who has been drinking. Here’s my phone number. I don’t care what time it is. I don’t care how far away you are or how drunk or stoned or high or whatever you are. Call me and I will come pick you up. No questions asked. I won’t tell your parents. Just please, don’t get in a car with someone who’s been drinking.”
Perhaps some of you have done something similar. Either way, in the real world, this is the end of the story. These teens never called me. They grew up and are now fantastic adults and parents themselves.
But we are writers. We have the writer’s mind frame and childlike curiosity.
So… what if?
What if a teenage girl—let’s call her Aimee—calls my hero one night at 2 a.m. because of this promise? What if my hero—let’s call him Myron Bolitar—drives into New York City and picks her up on a street corner and heads back into New Jersey and drops Aimee at a friend’s house?
And what if the next day Aimee is missing?
What if no one at the house where Myron dropped her off even knows who she is?
That is the opening of my eighth Myron Bolitar novel, Promise Me.
The what-ifs here gave me more than a (hopefully) engaging opening. They gave me conflict and situations and a ripe world that I wanted to explore. How would Aimee’s parents react when they heard Myron made this promise and didn’t tell them? How would Myron feel about his promise now? How would the reader feel? Was the promise a mistake? Should he have still told Aimee’s parents? How would Myron react in the aftermath? There would be anguish and desperation and worry and guilt for sure. Myron would blame himself. He would have to search for Aimee.
I love writing about all those things.
Because Myron was the last person with Aimee before she vanished, the police would suspect him. That might give me some story, but I wouldn’t want to dwell on that. We’ve all seen the guy we know didn’t do it being made a suspect. It felt too done. I was far more interested in the reaction of Aimee’s parents, of their small community, of Myron himself.
Okay, good start. Now what?
Well, what if I could link Aimee’s disappearance to something else in Myron’s life?
Oh, now we are cooking with gas…
“Where do you get your ideas?”
I don’t just tolerate that question. I embrace it.
Think like a writer. Keep the writer’s mind frame. Keep noodling. No excuses. I try to live with this simple credo always in mind:
If it helps me produce pages, good. If it doesn’t, bad.
The writer’s mind frame means a part of you is always gnawing on a story. I’m obliviously rude sometimes. My mind drifts off because I get caught up in an idea. I seem easily distracted.
I am fortunate enough to know a lot of successful artists, writers, creators, scientists, and entrepreneurs and so I often look for the one trait the best of the best all share: Curiosity. Genuine curiosity. Even better, childlike curiosity.
People close to me are used to it—“Oh, Harlan is going off to La-La Land.” They all get it. This doesn’t mean I’m ignoring my friends and family. Well, maybe a little. But my family knows that I love them with my entire being. I have four kids. They are my world, but they also accept that this is a part of me. Dad will sometimes hold up his hand, ask for silence, start writing something down. Dad may go quiet or even vanish for a few minutes.
It’s not as bad as it sounds. The kids get a kick out of it.
The writer’s mindset also has a lot of advantages. You have to go to museums. You must read books. Lots of them. You have to watch movies and go to the theater. You have to travel and try new things and live out loud as much as you can because you need to keep ye olde brain pan stimulated and full.
And you have to be ready.
With that in mind, I carry a backpack with me all the time. In it I have a laptop, a legal pad, a smaller notebook, a potpourri of pens and writing instruments, even snacks. I clear the run- way, if you will, and never let anything get in the way of me wanting to write. I don’t want to give the fickle muse a chance to wander or find another dance partner. I don’t want to give the muse or myself any out. More practically, I don’t want to waste time searching for that perfect pad or pen or electronic device—because it’s there. With me. In my backpack.
No excuses, Coben. You got time.
Write.
Notice a theme here?
That backpack is with me always. If I’m meeting a friend for lunch or coffee, I often get there early and hey, this is a cool place to hang before my friend arrives. Let’s write. Or I’ll stay after the friend leaves the table and jot down some stuff if the café owner is okay with it.
I was never a Boy Scout, but I feel like the writer’s version of one: Always be prepared.
In case you’re wondering, yes, the backpack is sitting next to me right now.
________________________________________________________
Excerpted from Plot Twist by Harlan Coben. Copyright © 2026 by Harlan Coben. Used by arrangement with Grand Central Publishing. All rights reserved.
