This summer, my apartment stopped feeling like it belonged to me.

I’ve lived in my current space for five years, and have always had a lingering sense of being not-entirely-moved-in, but this year has felt even more disjointed. After a fresh breakup and a long period of intense travel, I found myself questioning my tastes and my vision for my own future — which translated into a very, very cluttered space. Slowly, my apartment began filling up: papers on every flat surface, projects half-started, a dining table so buried a friend once called it my “filing cabinet.” 😬

So I kept trying to fix it. I moved furniture around, I searched for the perfect organization system, I bought storage containers that never made it out of their delivery boxes. I felt like I was drowning in my own home. (If that sounds familiar, KC Davis’s How to Keep House While Drowning is a kind, shame-free read, especially for fellow ADHDers like me. Highly recommend!)

After all my efforts ended in dead ends, I admittedly stopped trying altogether. I let my brain tune out the clutter, the way you stop hearing a hum in the background. No new project inspiration, a heavy reliance on frozen meals and takeout, and way more screen time ensued. My conscious mind ignored the chaos, but I could still feel it lingering in my body, in my subconscious space.

“My conscious mind ignored the chaos, but I could still feel it lingering in my body, in my subconscious space.”

Something changed when I started getting back out into the dating world. I started to see my home with fresh eyes, and what I saw was pretty dismal. How could I call in fresh energy if my space was still so stagnant? I realized, then, that my apartment was a window into the state of my mind: maxed out, lacking spaciousness, no longer an enjoyable place to be.

Looking back, the clutter wasn’t really the problem. My creative problem-solving had quietly shrunk. I couldn’t see the next steps on projects I once was motivated to complete, couldn’t start the essays I had slated for work, couldn’t even cook myself dinner because I was so overloaded with input. I wasn’t the crafty, curious Emily I used to be.

“My apartment was a window into the state of my mind: maxed out, lacking spaciousness, no longer an enjoyable place to be.”

So, I went looking for ways to get unstuck. I dove into my journal, tried looking at my state with fresh eyes, and asked around for all the advice I could get on how to brainstorm a little better and start thinking in new, creative ways again.

While some advice feels obvious, I think we can all use these reminders for whenever we reach that “point of no return” — when we simply just have no more bandwidth for creative solutions. And this isn’t just for work; these ideas can help you rejuvenate a relationship, make a house feel more like home, or finally land on a direction for your next creative project.

Move your body

As someone with ADHD, changing scenery is essential for me. I’ve never been able to sit at a desk for eight hours and put out my best work. I have a built-in desk in my bedroom and a standing desk in the living room, and neither has been used in six months or more. I’m only a little embarrassed to admit that they act as de facto storage for my trinkets and craft supplies.

Instead, I change locations throughout the day: the hammock, the couch, the armchair, the floor. When I max out on those (which I usually do), I take my laptop to the farmers’ market, a nearby cafe, or a blanket in the park. It’s a practice I’ve adopted subconsciously, but it really does cue my mind to switch gears and helps me task switch more seamlessly — so why not use it to help me come up with new ideas?

A Stanford study found that people came up with more creative ideas while walking than sitting, and the boost lasted after they sat back down. “A trapped mind requires a change of scenery, not a greater exertion,” says Dr. Wilfred G. van Gorp, a board-certified neuropsychologist and director of Cognitive Assessment Group. “When we try too hard to solve a problem, our mind tends to fixate on one way of looking at it, and it’s easier to let go of that idea when we move.” Charles Darwin knew this well, he adds, and walked a gravel path behind his house he called his “thinking track.”

“A trapped mind requires a change of scenery, not a greater exertion.”

— Dr. Wilfred G. van Gorp

One caveat: walking helps you generate ideas, not pick the best one. “People tend to score slightly worse at identifying the best option after walking rather than sitting,” van Gorp says. So walk to brainstorm, then sit down to decide.

On my own walks, I skip the music and podcasts. It helps lower the volume in my head and allows me to slowly untangle the mess of thoughts while I practice a bit of presence.

Movement doesn’t have to be walking, nor does it even have to require much physical exertion. The other day I couldn’t shake a particularly bad block, so I made myself put on sunscreen, grab my keys, and drive without a destination. (Kind of bold to do in a traffic-heavy city like Los Angeles, but I was desperate.) I ended up on one of my favorite stretches of road in LA, the one along Forest Lawn Cemetery north of Griffith Park, blasting hip-hop from the aughts with the windows down. When in doubt, pop on a Slack away message and turn up the Missy Elliott.

Long drives, yoga classes, and even rearranging furniture all do this for me: there’s just enough stimulation to keep my mind turned on, but not so much that it needs my full concentration. (A colleague recently mentioned that being in or near water, whether that’s taking a shower or sitting by a lake, stimulates her creative idea generation. I’ve found that’s true for me, too!)

Change the question

Prompting yourself to change the question at hand is a brainstorming exercise in itself, but it’s a worthwhile approach. “When you’re struggling to come up with an idea, look to see if you’ve hidden a solution within your question,” says Shikhar Mangla, a product design lead at Sling TV. “‘How can we fit a bigger table in this kitchen?’ already decides that you need a bigger table. ‘How can we comfortably have our friends over for dinner?’ has a bit more flexibility.”

I learned this one by accident some years ago, when I wanted to paint my apartment but didn’t have a big budget for a ladder or a lot of paint. I scoured Pinterest and found homes that featured walls that were only painted on the bottom half — and bam! I had a look I loved, a freshly updated apartment, and didn’t have to stretch my resources beyond what I could afford.

“‘How can we fit a bigger table in this kitchen?’ already decides that you need a bigger table. ‘How can we comfortably have our friends over for dinner?’ has a bit more flexibility.”

— Shikhar Mangla

Start by getting laser-focused on your question, then iterate different versions. For me, instead of asking how I should rearrange my furniture or organize my paperwork, I might consider: do I even need these things at all? That question helped me kickstart a new vision for my apartment that’s outside of what already exists within it.

Or, for a work-related example, I’ve been trying to solve an editorial calendar conundrum for the better part of a year. Perhaps instead of asking “how can we organize our Airtable,” I ask if that’s the right software for us in the first place. Instead of essays and product guides, I think of how I might manage these items if they were physical inventory. Or, if instead of charts and graphs, our analytics looked more like the dashboard of a car with lights showing when something needs maintenance or attention. Sometimes the question isn’t how to make something work as it is, but explore what it would look like if keeping it status quo is just not possible.

To help you get started asking different questions, take stock of what you actually want to achieve and work backwards from there. Make an inventory of which parts of the process you enjoy and which you don’t, which take the most and least time, what’s truly necessary versus distraction, and what simply cannot be done by someone other than you. Understand the landscape of the problem at hand before you start your exploration, and you’ll start opening your mind to more possibilities.

” Understand the landscape of the problem at hand before you start your exploration, and you’ll start opening your mind to more possibilities.”

Lower the stakes

I’m a firm believer that most things in life are, truly, not that serious. But as a recovering optimizer, I still struggle to lower the pressure on myself whenever I’m faced with a challenge or start a new project. Anyone else put so much pressure on themselves to do something perfectly that they don’t even start it at all? One look at my ambitious craft supplies will tell you all you need to know about how I operate.

“When I catch myself clinging to a perfect outcome, I remind myself it’s okay to do something poorly. Starting badly is still starting.”

For example, many years ago I wanted to try a class at a nearby yoga studio (I’d only taken one yoga class in my life up to that point). Before I even signed up, I decided I needed to justify the $65 introductory month expense by turning yoga into a full-fledged career. I researched how much it cost to get trained as a teacher, how much time it would take, and how much I could expect to earn in the long run. I put off that first class for weeks, maybe months, because I was too in my head to begin. What?!

These days, I get myself out of my comfort zone by doing things badly on purpose. If I take a yoga class, I am generous with my savasana breaks. I start crocheting with no roadmap just to get my hands moving (then I undo it when I get bored!). My once-manicured journal is now gloriously chaotic. You’ll find coffee stains, work notes, and board game scores, all in a journal with a broken spine and loose pages. And I love it more than ever, because it’s a realistic picture of my life. When I catch myself clinging to a perfect outcome, I remind myself it’s okay to do something poorly. Starting badly is still starting.

Borrow someone else’s eyes

“When I’m stuck, I don’t try to force an idea. I change the perspective first,” says Andrew May, founder and executive coach at Parallel Perspective. One of his favorite techniques is to pick up a random object, like a kid’s toy or a kitchen tool, and describe it: smooth, spiky, flexible, heavy, colorful. “Then stretch those attributes onto the problem. Not literally, but as provocations. What would a ‘smoother’ customer experience look like? What would ‘flexible’ mean in this situation?”

He also asks what a five-year-old would say, or what your grandma would notice. “You’re not looking for the right answer,” May says. “You’re borrowing different thoughts.”

“You’re not looking for the right answer,” May says. “You’re borrowing different thoughts.”

My best ideas usually show up in conversation, especially in loosely structured meetings with colleagues where we share what we’re working on and what challenges have arisen. I’m grateful that my team is so full of talented, smart women who can offer thoughtful perspectives outside of my own perspective. Outside of work, I call my best friend from high school and riff on an idea with no expectations of outcome. If she’s not around, I imagine what I’d tell her if she came to me with the same problem — it’s amazing how much clearer things look when you’re advising someone you love.

It’s okay to imagine a perspective, too! Maybe you consider what your favorite television character might do, or how your favorite animal would go about solving the problem. My cheeky approach is to call on alter-egos of myself to help me. “Business Emily” gives objective feedback, negotiates with confidence, and speaks clearly and authoritatively on work matters. “Chill Emily” helps me let go when mistakes happen. “Social Emily” is smooth without being overbearing, and she shows up when I’m making new friends or going on first dates.

Each one still feels like me, just with my charisma stats redistributed a little (to borrow a video game concept, if you know you know, fellow gamers). I pull in characteristics I admire from people I respect, characters who radiate confidence, and my own imagination.

Let it rest

Stepping away is one of the most difficult things to do, especially when you’re on deadline or feel like you’ve *just* about cracked the case on something. Sometimes I’m so tired that I don’t even think to put something aside, and just keep metaphorically banging my head against the keyboard out of frustration. But the way we take breaks is as important, if not more, than taking breaks to begin with.

My go-to lately, as it is for many of us, is to scroll on my phone and consume even more noise. That’s not the rest our brains actually need; switching tasks to something less stimulating is key. It’s why many of us get our best ideas in the shower.

“The way we take breaks is as important, if not more, than taking breaks to begin with…the real breaks are the ones that change something.”

The real breaks are the ones that change something. That afternoon drive I mentioned is what finally dislodged the block I had of what to do about my clutter. Somewhere along that road, I realized I’d been holding on to things from a place of scarcity, which isn’t how I ultimately want to move through my life. The simple, powerful epiphany of “would I choose these items again if I had the chance?” led me to realize that I had been spending too much energy on things that weren’t supporting my life. For the first time in a long while, I started to picture what my home could be if I just changed my perspective.

Of course, rest isn’t just leisure time or mundane tasks — it’s sleep. Good sleep. And we can set ourselves up for success there, too! Leah Ann Bolen, the Sleep & Dream Specialist at Miraval Arizona, calls her brainstorming partner her “dreaming mind.” Before bed, she writes down a problem and one clear question about it. “Essentially, I pass the baton to the night,” she says.

The practice is called dream incubation, and the key is not to demand an answer. “Instead, you’re planting a seed: Here’s what I’m wondering about. Show me something I might not be seeing.” When she wakes, she writes down whatever she remembers before reaching for her phone. Sometimes the answer is surprisingly direct. Other times it’s an image or a feeling that reframes the problem.

To try it, Bolen suggests keeping the question open-ended and resisting the urge to decode your dream right away. “Don’t immediately ask, ‘What does this mean?’ First ask, ‘What does this make me think of?’”

As an avid dreamer myself, I’ve never actually called upon my dreaming self to help with specific ideas or problems. Instead, my dreams tend to take the wheel (think tsunamis and work meetings that feel all-too-real). How might they change if I set an intention, or allowed my mind to gently settle on a challenge before bedtime?

Catch the ideas (and play)

Ideas rarely show up when I sit down to generate them, so my notebook goes everywhere with me (even on dates, is that weird?). I often get flashes of inspiration or clarity into a question when my guard is down, like playing skee-ball at a brewery with friends, or throwing mouse toys for my cats to fetch. Again, I am reminded that life is not so serious, and, in my opinion, it’s more interesting when it’s not.

“Life is not so serious, and, in my opinion, it’s more interesting when it’s not.”

At a recent work-related dinner, our conversation somehow turned into a riff on what Eminem’s “Stan” would sound like as a LinkedIn post. We traded lyrics and observations about LinkedIn behavior until we cried laughing. Did we solve a problem? No. But mashing two unrelated things together got our brains working in such a delightful way, and that feeling of open, playful creativity stuck with me.

Here are some other playful ways I generate ideas and make decisions:

• I go for a walk with my earbuds in and pretend I’m on the phone, explaining my ideas for an article out loud as if I’m talking to a friend or a reader. My iPhone’s voice memo transcription catches everything, and I can sort it into sections later.
• As most millennials do, I keep an ongoing notes app document of random ideas that pop into my head. You’ll find a treasure trove of breakup texts, ideas for Cardi B-esque lyrics, grocery lists, and yes, ideas for what to write next for work.
• Feeling stuck on a piece of writing or art? Print it out or make a copy, then cut it up and rearrange it. I use this approach to make sure my concepts make sense together, to get rid of repetition, and to identify holes in my story.
• When faced with too many options or ideas, I write them on slips of paper and pull one from a hat. A 20-sided die works, too. Letting go of the choice is surprisingly freeing. This can be a jumping off point for iterating on your first round of ideas, too.

I think when it comes to brainstorming better, we can get so caught up in how we “should” do things that we forget to ask how we “could.” In my experience, all of these approaches are different ways of jiggling the stuck bubblegum machine to get it to flow freely once again.

For me, getting unstuck and thinking outside the box, means my apartment is finally feeling like my own home again. It’s not perfect; it never will be, but there’s room to move, room to cook, and room to think. My mind is feeling roomier, too, like it finally has space for something new and beautiful to plant itself. Perhaps this next big idea or breakthrough will come through reaching out to my dream self, or my future self, or those friends and family who know me, sometimes, better than I do. Maybe it’ll come to me in the bassline of a song, or during a quiet walk, or maybe even during a shower.

Here’s to building better brainstorming habits, and to remaining open to the infinite possibilities that are floating around, just waiting for our wandering minds to come and catch them.

What are your tried-and-true brainstorming methods? I’d love to hear them in the comments below. 🧠💡

Emily McGowan is the Editorial Director at The Good Trade. She studied Creative Writing and Business at Indiana University, and has over ten years of experience as a writer and editor in sustainability and lifestyle spaces. Since 2017, she’s been discovering and reviewing the top sustainable home, fashion, beauty, and wellness products so readers can make their most informed decisions. Her editorial work has been recognized by major publications like The New York Times and BBC Worklife. You can usually find her in her colorful Los Angeles apartment journaling, playing with her two cats, or crafting. Say hi on Instagram or follow along with her Substack, Pinky Promise.