It’s no secret that we love stories. But why? Where do they come from? How did our brains first evolve such a predilection for narrative?

I’m far from an evolutionary determinist. But it’s still useful to understand why certain cognitive capacities may have served an evolutionary purpose at some point in our species’ collective past.

Understanding the evolution of narrative beyond the speculative, though, is difficult. Stories don’t fossilize. The work of various anthropologists, ethnographers, and linguists aside, it’s difficult to study the communicative and cognitive roots of storytelling.

But the difficulty of the endeavor hasn’t stopped us from trying. Humans are wonderful that way. And over the years, scientists have come up with a few different ideas as to how and why stories first arose.

For Steven Pinker, Canada’s favorite cognitive scientist, narrative functions as a sort of collective extension of our pre-frontal cortex’s ability to project into the future.

“Fictional narratives supply us with a mental catalogue of the fatal conundrums we might face someday,” Pinker says. “And the outcomes of strategies we could deploy in them,” (Pinker, 1997).

It’s a compelling idea, certainly. My own personal experience with writers would suggest that we do tend to have overactive (and anxious) imaginations.

Anecdotal neuroticism aside, though, Pinker’s supposition is difficult to test.

Cognitive scientists haven’t yet verified that narrative can serve that purpose, period. We’re still a long way from proving that the ‘fatal conundrums’ of stories provided enough of an advantage to spur natural selection deep in our evolutionary history.

Whether narrative could predate language is a thorny question at the center of a rose bush’s worth of unknowns.

For one, the origins of language itself are unclear. Conflicting theories have gone in and out of vogue over the years.

Just to give a few examples, linguists have theorized at various points that language:

1. emerged following a spontaneous mutation which endowed us with the cognitive capacity representation (Bickerton, 1990)
   
2. resulted from progressive cognitive changes and originally evolved for purposes of thought (Berwick & Chomsky, 2016), or
   
3. evolved progressively from the noises and vocalizations of our ancestors—in other words, that the social/collaborative purpose came first, and the cognitive byproducts were secondary.
   

Setting those debates aside, however, there’s also the issue of whether it’s a story if it isn’t told in language.

Some narratologists reserve the term ‘narrative’ specifically for sequences of events abstracted and recounted through a fully realized, symbolic system of language.

Others, such as UC Santa Barbara’s Porter Abbott, define narrative “more broadly as the presenting or rendering of stories,” (Abbott, 2000).

With that definition, it’s possible that stories (at least very simple ones) predated representational language. Early hominids could have used so called ‘mimetic storytelling’ to convey simple narratives for the purpose of communication and collaboration.

It’s an interesting possibility, especially when considered alongside Darwin’s dreamy hypothesis of the singing ape—the ‘musical protolanguage’ that described language as emerging from the rhythmic movements and musical vocalizations of animals (Darwin, 1871).

While Darwin’s theory of language’s evolution has garnered mixed reviews from the modern scientific community, it is fun to think about. And if it has any basis, it could mean that music and narrative are even more deeply entangled in our deep history than previously thought.

Narrative sits at the intersection of language, cognition, and culture. While it’s arguably one of humanity’s most important inventions, it’s difficult to say when and how it emerged in our species history.

Complicating the difficulty of studying the earliest history of narrative is varied definitions utilized by the diverse disciplines engaging with the concept. A linguist’s definition of narrative, for example, may differ from an evolutionary biologist’s, which in turn differs from a narratologist’s.

Setting these difficulties aside, however, it’s interesting to speculate on how and when stories came about. While we might not know the answers to these questions with certainty for some time yet, exploring the evolutionary underpinnings of our more abstract capabilities remains a valuable pursuit.

Humans have come up with a lot of different descriptions of inspiration over the years. We’ve attributed its illusive appearance to, among other things, goddesses, spirits, the collective unconscious, and the phase of the moon.

But what happens in our brains when we get inspired? How do individual neurons communicate to produce bursts of insight and creative vision?

Before diving into the neuroscience, it’s important to get clear on what the word ‘inspiration’ refers to.

As with any psychological phenomenon, scientists need a unified definition of inspiration to direct their research.

One group of psychologists at the College of William and Mary defined inspiration as the “motivational state that compels individuals to bring ideas into fruition,” (Oleynick et. al., 2014).

Oleynick and her co-authors base their definition on the earlier ‘tripartite conceptualization’ of inspiration from psychologists Todd Thrash and Andrew Elliot, who break the phenomenon down into three core components:

• Evocation—From the perspective of the inspired person, inspiration comes involuntarily from an external stimulus such as another person or a work of art (or, if you’re Thomas Pynchon, lots and lots of LSD).
• Transcendence—Episodes of inspiration give individuals vivid, concrete visions that go above and beyond the everyday.
• Approach motivation—Once someone is inspired, they feel a strong internal drive to actualize or realize their vision through focused action.
  

In addition to these psychological states, inspiration also has some distinct physiological markers. When we’re inspired, our bodies exhibit elevated levels of the neurotransmitters dopamine and serotonin.

Dopamine is heavily associated with pleasure, reward, and motivation, while serotonin gives us a sense of well-being and connection (Bergland, 2012).

So, inspiration is a complex union of psychological and physiological states—high motivation and a feeling of altered consciousness on the one hand, an increase in important neurotransmitters on the other.

But what are the other neurological mechanisms in play? How do our brains direct us towards that magical realm full of focus, excitement, and creative association?

Like other concepts and states associated with creativity, inspiration is complicated, slippery, and, consequently, hard to study.

Luckily, during the past fifty years several smart, creative neuroscientists have found ways to apply modern technology to the study of human creativity.

What they’ve found is that the neural underpinnings of inspiration span brain areas and systems. Furthermore, brains in an inspired state produce distinctive patterns of electrical activity known as alpha waves.

Brain Wave Patterns

In a landmark 1978 study, Colin Martindale and Nancy Hasenfus used EEGs to record brain wave patterns over the course of the creative process. The pair found that ‘creatives’ exhibited more alpha waves in the period immediately preceding their creative idea.

A brain wave describes the wave pattern produced by an electroencephalogram (EEG) in response to your brain’s electrical activity.

Brain waves are measured by their frequency—the number of wave cycles that occur per second.

Compared to the other waves our brains produce, alpha waves have a mid-range frequency. Your brain generates them during states of wakeful rest (Larson, 2019).

A small 2015 study found that researchers could increase creativity in subjects using transcranial alternating current stimulation (tACS) to increase alpha wave activity (Lustenberger et. al., 2015).

While it’s probably not wise to attach electrodes to your head in search of inspiration, the study does suggest a connection between alpha frequencies and creativity.

Brain Regions

It’s likely that no single brain region or system governs creativity, per se (Kaufman, 2016). Rather, creativity is a complex and varied process that involves the entire brain.

On a similar note, several neural imaging studies suggest that high levels of creativity are associated with disinhibition across neural networks, which leads to an increase in novel associations (Kaufman, 2016).

Long story short, like other elements of creativity, on a neurological level inspiration is likely linked to communication between brain areas and the constant generation of fresh neural pathways--not a single area (or hemisphere) of the brain.

While it would be nice to point to the brain’s inspiration button, it makes sense that a high-level, conceptual state wouldn’t fall into neat neurological boxes.

Available evidence points to inspiration as a complex state that integrates multiple brain systems.

Furthermore, states we experience as inspiration produce distinctive patterns of electrical activity associated with relaxed, wakeful activities like daydreaming or meditation.

Of course, a neurological approach is just one way to understand inspiration. Scientific descriptions don't need to detract from an appreciation from the mystery and magic of sudden insight.

So light your candles, throw on a guided meditation, and invite some alpha waves into the room--it's time to have a long talk with your personal muse.

Creativity is hard work. It’s mysterious, elusive, and, at times, anxiety inducing.

Luckily, cognitive, behavioral, and social psychologists have conducted extensive research into how and why creativity happens. Here are five of tactics they’ve discovered that creatives of all stripes can use to boost their chosen practice.

"As strange as it sounds, creativity can become a habit," says Dr. Jonathan Plucker, a leading expert on intelligence and creativity. "Making it one helps you become more productive," (Novotney, 2009).
Here are a few ‘creativity habits’ to consider building into your routine:

• Capture ideas—Write or record ideas as they come to you.
  
• Challenge yourself—Present yourself with new situations, tasks, and challenges.
• Feed your head—Keep learning new things, studying new topics, and taking in fresh perspectives.
• Seek out social stimulation—Creativity is a social phenomenon. Surrounding yourself with smart, creative people different from yourself will help fuel your own innovation.

It’s no secret: sunlight and natural spaces improve our mood and psychological well-being.

For example, a 2016 survey of 444 office workers in the United States and India found that “natural elements and sunlight exposure” decreased reported rates of depression and anxiety (An et. al., 2016).

But an elevated mood isn’t the only benefit of access to the outdoors. Sunlight and natural settings can also improve creativity.

Consider Dr. Janetta Mitchell McCoy’s findings that high school students produced more innovative collages (according to the estimates of six independent raters) while working in spaces with natural wood and abundant direct sunlight (McCoy, 2002).

Sleep matters, especially when it comes to creativity. Both psychologists and neuroscientists agree that adequate, quality sleep is essential for proper cognitive functioning.

Research also supports the idea that the altered physiological and psychological states we experience while sleeping can aid creativity and problem solving.

For example, during a 1993 study at Harvard Medical School psychologist Diedre Barret asked participants to imagine a problem they were trying to solve before going to sleep.

When they woke up, half of the participants reported that they’d dreamed about their chosen problem. 50% of those who reported dreaming about their chosen problem also reported coming up with a novel solution during the dream (Barret, 2001).

Similarly, a German study published in 2004 assigned participants with a difficult math problem. They then retested the same participants with the same math problem eight hours later.

Those who had slept during the break were two times more likely to find a simpler solution to the math problem than those who had not slept (Wagner, 2004).

While many cling to the stereotype of the tortured artist, psychological research suggests that happy moods promote creativity, while sadness inhibits new ideas and causes us to worry more about making mistakes (Gasper, 2004).

So don't be afraid to have fun when you create! Get loose and get happy.

Unfortunately, research indicates that verbal group brainstorming isn’t all that effective, at least for the average person.

In group settings, we tend to hold our ideas back out of fear of rejection, stymieing the collective creative process.

However, the research of Dr. Paul Paulus on ‘brainwriting’ suggests that we can circumvent these barriers through collaborative writing exercises.

During the ‘brainwriting’ process, group members write their ideas down on a piece of paper, then pass the papers to others in the group. Eventually, all group members add their ideas to the list.

In one of Paulus’s studies, a group of brainwriters came up with 28% more potential uses for a paper clip than an equal number of people tackling the problem in isolation (Paulus, 2000).

There's no getting around the fact that creative endeavors can sometimes become scary, taxing, and exhausting. As Vonnegut put it, "we have to continually be jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down."

But the good news is that these five tricks are just a few of the easy, research-backed ways you can nurture your creative spirit.

Build good habits, go outside, get plenty of sleep, have fun, and grab your friends. In short, take care of yourself, and the ideas will come.