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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 begins with that question. And, in a broader sense, that impulse also underpins many scientific breakthroughs. In short, curiosity is essential.
Einstein put it plainly: “I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious.”
I’m fortunate to count among my acquaintances a wide range of successful artists, authors, creators, scientists, and entrepreneurs, and I often search for one common trait that all the exceptional people share:
Curiosity. Deep, authentic curiosity. Even more: childlike curiosity.
What if is the question a curious kid would ask.
It’s also one of the main engines behind how ideas form and grow. It’s not the only route, of course. We’ll examine others. Yet true innovators keep returning to the query: What if?
“Where do you get your ideas?”
I don’t merely endure that inquiry—I welcome it.
Think like a writer. Maintain that frame of mind. Keep noodling. No excuses. I try to live by a simple rule that guides my daily practice:
If it helps me produce pages, good. If it doesn’t, bad.
The writer’s mindset means a slice of you is forever gnawing at a story. I can be blunt about it: my thoughts drift when I latch onto an idea. I’m often accused of seeming 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 have learned to live with it—“Oh, Harlan is off to La-La Land.” They understand the joke. This doesn’t imply neglect of friends or family. I love them with all my heart. I have four kids; they’re my world, but they also accept that this is part of who I am. When Dad needs a moment, he’ll raise a hand for silence, retreat, and start scribbling something down. Dad may fall quiet or vanish for a few minutes.
It isn’t as alarming as it sounds. The kids find the habit entertaining.
Adopting this writer’s mindset comes with clear advantages. It requires you to explore museums, devour books, watch films, attend plays, travel, and embrace new experiences with gusto so that your brain remains lively and receptive.
And you have to be prepared.
With that philosophy in mind, I carry a backpack everywhere I go. Inside there’s a laptop, a legal pad, a smaller notebook, a mix of pens and writing tools, even snacks. I clear space in advance, and I won’t let anything block my desire to write. I don’t want the fickle muse to wander or to have an easy way out. Practically speaking, I won’t waste time rummaging for the right pad or instrument—everything I might need is right there, in my backpack.
No excuses, Coben. You’ve got time.
Just write.
Notice the pattern?
That backpack accompanies me at all times. If I’m meeting a friend for lunch or coffee, I often arrive early and think, “This place could be a great perch to write.” Or I’ll linger after my companion leaves and jot down notes if the café owner doesn’t mind.
I was never a Boy Scout, but the writer’s version has one timeless motto: Always be prepared.
And if you’re curious, yes—the backpack sits beside me even now.
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Excerpted from Plot Twist by Harlan Coben. Copyright © 2026 by Harlan Coben. Used by arrangement with Grand Central Publishing. All rights reserved.
