A creative director at my first day job used to talk fondly of the agency where she'd started out, where designers had a timesheet code they could use for "time spent staring out the window." What she missed was the official recognition—lacking in most workplaces—that creative work demands downtime. Sometimes the brain works best when your attention wanders.

Puttering is the name I tend to give this process; apparently that's the more American word for it. UK usage favors pottering. The OED defines the verb potter as "occupy oneself in a desultory but agreeable manner; move or go about whilst occupied in such a way." The Online Etymology Dictionary adds "be busy in doing little," and notes that it seems to be a frequentative verb, similar to chatter. (Which suggests that fretter might be the verb for pottering with a guitar—if we didn't already have noodle.) It also includes a graph showing that usage of potter is about half what it was in 1800. I wonder how that graph might align with the spread of models of industrial productivity.

I, for one, have not had much time for puttering lately. I miss it, and I'm pretty sure my creative work is suffering for the lack. The sticky-note wall might qualify, since it is fundamentally aimless. But that's no more than a minute or two a day. A minute is not a lot of downtime. 

I just encountered Hanif Abdurraqib's description of an annual braided-vignette document on a random topic of interest, which can grow to hold a book's worth of words that will never be public. I love that idea, and I'm curious about what the songwriting equivalent would look like. Perhaps a rhyme/stanza game within the St. Jerome's document? The band's goofing around with parody songs and Unbelievable Truth mashups might serve a similar function. Certainly digging in to etymology does. 

Nate Hall is an actor and musician based in Chicago. He is the composer and cowriter (with Cody Lindley) of Stabbed in the Heart, a new slasher-dramedy musical aiming for an October production. Support it with a donation or by buying tickets to its June 4 concert performance at Redline VR's Raven Room. Follow Nate on Instagram: @50firstnates

Drive is a concept that I think about every time I listen to or write music, to the point of often and rightfully deserved parody from my partner. I don’t know that my definition is one that is fully tangible, but I’ll try to break it down here.

When I’m listening to a song I’m really digging, I find myself moving my body in some way. Whether that’s a typical tapping of the foot or a less typical tightening of my shoulders while my fingers curl on a satisfying change, it’s pretty much inevitable. I crave being literally moved by the music I’m listening to.

So, drive is a way to make the music move forward. Less sitting on each beat and more jumping to the next beat too early out of pure excitement for what’s coming next. I want the listener to hop on for the roller coaster ride and put their hands up as we crest an apex, to be an active participant in the listening process.

There are a lot of ways to evoke this elation, but the most obvious to me is through syncopation. The easiest and most efficient way to surprise and intrigue, until you use it too much of course (then the boring becomes your tool of surprise, and the cycle continues). However, I wouldn’t say that a genre like jazz, practically the king of syncopation, is driving in all cases. Though the improvisation inherent in jazz creates some pockets for musicians to shock and awe their audiences, it can sometimes fall prey to its own atmosphere, becoming more of a philosophical think piece with superficially deep “hmms” and “ahs.”

That’s where the riff comes in. I love masterworks of composition by Sondheim as much as the next guy, but the opening riff to Stereogram’s "Walkie Talkie Man" that I heard on a Nintendo DS game in the early 2000s will permanently hold a spot in my brain despite anything I ever do to erase it (why would I, but point made). I love me some Joe Satriani marathon solos, but have you heard the chord progression in Carly Rae Jepsen’s "Call Me Maybe"? Cause I sure have and I am not tired of it and I think that MATTERS.
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