The paper describes nine unusual lab experiments performed over the past decade by its author, Daryl J. Bem, an emeritus professor at Cornell, testing the ability of college students to accurately sense random events, like whether a computer program will flash a photograph on the left or right side of its screen. The studies include more than 1,000 subjects.

In an interview, Dr. Bem, the author of the original paper and one of the most prominent research psychologists of his generation, said he intended each experiment to mimic a well-known classic study, “only time-reversed.”

In one classic memory experiment, for example, participants study 48 words and then divide a subset of 24 of them into categories, like food or animal. The act of categorizing reinforces memory, and on subsequent tests people are more likely to remember the words they practiced than those they did not.

In his version, Dr. Bem gave 100 college students a memory test before they did the categorizing — and found they were significantly more likely to remember words that they practiced later. “The results show that practicing a set of words after the recall test does, in fact, reach back in time to facilitate the recall of those words,” the paper concludes.

If you think this sounds far-fetched, you’re not alone. Many scientists have criticized the publication of the paper, arguing that the evidence is insufficient to support Dr. Bem’s “extraordinary claims.” I’m a skeptic by nature, and it’s easy to see how a flawed statistical analysis of the data could lead to a positive finding where none really exists (especially because the supposed effect is small). And yet…I’m not willing to dismiss the possibility of ESP out of hand. After all, research into the paranormal is hardly new – J.B. Rhine was already investigating ESP at Duke University in the 1930s.

Across disciplines and experimental frameworks, scientists are charged with relying on evidence rather than preconceived notions of how the universe works. This is especially important when the evidence seems to run contrary to accepted dogma (ulcers, anyone?).  If future studies manage to replicate the effects observed by Dr. Bem, it will only reemphasize what we already know – that the real universe and the minds it holds are stranger and more wonderful than any work of fiction.

To be honest, this list is as much for me as it is for you. Both my parents were avid readers when they were teenagers, but almost completely stopped reading for pleasure in college. Unfortunately, I’ve noticed myself falling into the same pattern. In middle school, I was proud of reading 20-30 books per month. Last quarter…well, subtract a power of ten. While I probably can’t match my book-crazed childhood reading rate, I know I can do better, and this list will help to keep me accountable.

To see the list, click on the tab at the top of the page next to the “About” link. The format is pretty basic right now, but I will try to think of some cool features to add as it grows.

The truth is, I’m still trying to figure out who I am and what I want to do long term. It’s easy to say that you want to be the world’s first neuroscientist-engineer-writer who has a black belt and feeds starving children on the weekend, but reality demands compromise. Sometimes you have to make choices. Sometimes sleep or (dare I say it?) relaxation has to take priority. Sometimes you try your hardest, and you still don’t quite reach your goal. One of the hardest lessons I have had to learn over the past three months is how to compromise without giving up or forgetting what’s really important.

As a writer, it’s important not to be afraid of failure or rejection. As a student…well, the same is true, but we’re often conditioned to believe otherwise. It’s okay to try a new subject – as long as it doesn’t disrupt your four year plan. An F won’t kill you – but it might kill your dreams of med school. This kind of cognitive dissonance can be unsettling. To combat it, I try to keep three things in mind: everyone fails sometimes, failure is not permanent (you can always try again tomorrow), and failure is not necessarily bad (as my mom says, if you’ve never failed, it means you aren’t taking enough risks). There are few students who have never bombed an assignment and even fewer writers who don’t have a secret drawer full of rejections. I guess I’m lucky that my biggest failure this quarter was not blogging as regularly as I should have, but I am prepared to face larger ones if/when they should occur. I know that fear of failure can do more damage than failure itself if I let it hold me back.

With that said, I have a few goals for myself for the upcoming quarter: 1) write at least one blog post a week, even if it’s only tangentially related to science-fiction/fantasy and writing, 2) read at least one book every two weeks that has nothing to do with my classes, and 3) take a risk without dwelling on the possibility of failure. I’ll let you know how I do.

Today I want to talk about creativity. Though I haven’t had as much time as I would like to write recently, I have had plenty of opportunities to flex my creative muscles and think about just what it means to use your imagination.

First, where does creativity come from? A few weeks ago, we had the opportunity to handle actual human brains in my introduction to psychology class. A brain is surprisingly compact in your hands – five pounds of wrinkled grey tissue that was once a person. Psychologists think that much of creative thought arises from the formation of new associations in the brain. In other words, every novel, short story, vampire, and werewolf began as electric and chemical impulses between brownish specks of matter. The neural processes we use to imagine something mimic those we use to process visual stimuli, so every time you see something in your head, it’s almost as if you’re actually seeing it. When you dream up a fantasy world, you are creating something that really exists – at least as far as your brain is concerned.

Are there techniques you can use to help yourself think more creatively? As it turns out, yes. One of my classes recently took a trip to IDEO, a design firm headquartered in Palo Alto, where we learned eight rules for successful brainstorming. Not all of them translate to literary brainstorming, but many do. The next time you’re searching for a new idea for a story or novel or struggling to tie up a loose plot line, try thinking up as many ideas as you can in a short span of time (“go for quantity”), don’t judge your ideas while you’re brainstorming (“defer judgment”), allow yourself to come up with wild possibilities without worrying about plausibility (“encourage wild ideas”), and draw pictures to flesh out your concepts (“be visual”).

What do you do when your creativity hits a wall? Believe it or not, computer science has a lot to teach writers on this front. The first and most important lesson is not to panic. Almost every writer has found him or herself without inspiration from time to time. Creative droughts don’t mean anything about your abilities – they just mean that you haven’t found the right idea yet. It may be helpful to talk to other people, or to try out ideas systematically by writing a few pages and revising them if they don’t work. Look for “bugs” in your writing – little problems that create big problems in plot or character development later on – and try to remove them in the simplest way possible. Once you have everything worked out, try to break your own writing by looking for plot holes or thinking of questions readers might ask.

Creativity is all around us, and we can learn about the process of generating and testing ideas from things that seem completely unrelated to writing. Just keep your eyes open and your pencil ready!

The main difference between college and high school with regards to writing (or anything else, really) is that the possibilities in college are endless and undefined. You can do anything you want (within the law), and often there will be people eager to help and support you. In my second week at Stanford, for example, I became involved with helping to produce a musical that was written by a student and might tour at colleges across the country later this year. On the other hand, it’s up to you to think up your own fantastic and potentially world-changing (or at least amusing) projects. If your vision is limited, your opportunities will be, too.

When you arrive at college, chances are there won’t be a writing club that perfectly matches your specific area of interest and comfort level. Of course, you can always start one – see the paragraph above – but you should also be open to trying new things. This week, I tried out for a spoken word group (or performance poetry, as I know it). I don’t typically write poetry, and the thought of reading my newly-crafted work in front of strangers made me feel slightly ill, but I thought it would be a fun experience. Anything that allows you to continue to develop your writing, especially if it involves other people interested in doing the same, is a good thing.

One of my main concerns before I arrived at college was that I would have so much homework that there would be no time left to write. It’s still early, but that hasn’t been the case so far. I might even – dare I say it? – have less homework than I did in high school. I am more tired overall – probably because I have to bike everywhere – but I feel fairly confident that I will have plenty of room for writing as long as I manage my time properly.

I’m still at the beginning of this journey, and I know I haven’t even scratched the surface of all the possibilities (and pitfalls) that exist around me. I’ll try to keep you updated as my perspective grows and changes. (That’s why this is just part 1!)

So how do you guide a character’s first steps in a new world? First think about the transition itself. Is it primarily physical (transported to a new kingdom or mythical land) or psychological (discovering your best friend is a vampire)? Are there enough clues for your protagonist to realize something is different right away, or do they take days to figure it out? Are they scared, happy, excited, sad, or some confusing blend of all those emotions?

As with any kind of descriptive writing, I find it helpful to think about the five senses when trying to describe the boundary between one world or way of existence and the next. Does the air smell different, marked by the pollen of a new kind of flower? Is the sunlight brighter or are the shadows deeper? When your character runs from the call of a predator or the hiss of an unfamiliar language, is it easy for him or her to catch their breath?

All of these details may seem irrelevant if, say, a fire-breathing dragon meets your protagonist at the beginning of their journey. But while monsters or magic may make it obvious that something has changed, they don’t make a new world believable to readers or characters. Humans are very good at ignoring or rationalizing big things—it’s the little things that slip in unnoticed and whisper the truth.

I have been thinking about these kinds of boundaries and transitions often since arriving at college. In many ways, California is like another world. The squirrels around campus are sleek and dark brown instead of bristling grey. It’s warm during the day, but the dry air loses its heat fast once the sun sets. North Carolinians pride themselves on the blue of their sky, but I think Palo Alto has them beat. Beyond the fact that I’m living in a dorm and enrolling in classes, these details let me know that I have truly arrived somewhere new.

We’re not all smoldering teenagers, either. Sure, we start out as pictures of heavenly perfection, but we don’t stay that way for long. On Earth, our inner flaws are branded on our bodies. The gluttonous have pot-bellies and the wrathful wear scowls. So when you fall for the bad-boy image, know it won’t last.

Why were we kicked out of heaven in the first place? That depends on who you ask. Some people say our downfall was a misunderstanding over real estate. We wanted to build a throne higher than the clouds, which violated heavenly zoning laws. Others think our refusal to bow to you humans was the cause. A few claim we were never angels to begin with, but the offspring of Phosphoros, a figure in Greek mythology tied to Venus (a planet also known as “the morning star” or, in Latin, Lucifer).

I wish I could tell you which story is true, but I was born after we arrived on Earth. You see, fallen angels have been pairing up with human females for millennia. Technically I’m only half angel—a Nephilim. In some ways, we’re the best of both worlds. You can see for yourself that we’re tall and handsome. Still, our short lifespans are annoying—120 years is a blink of an eye—and nagging human consciences are even worse.

There are more half and quarter-angels than you might think. Many of the great humans throughout history weren’t entirely mortal, and almost every lawyer has a little fallen angel in their blood. So keep your eyes open when you’re filing your taxes or having a tooth pulled—you’re sure to meet one of us sooner or later.

Perhaps they are a way of grappling with our society’s flaws. Though we may sometimes feel powerless to change the things we don’t like about our world, characters’ triumphs over authoritarian regimes remind us that every person is capable of standing up for their beliefs and making a difference. Of course, earlier dystopias often ended on more somber notes—1984 and Brave New World being two classic examples—but many of today’s novels present repressive societies as transient and inherently vulnerable to individuals acting in the name of truth and justice. No matter what the circumstances, the heroes of modern young adult dystopias continue to fight for what they believe is right—and usually win.

In an essay published in the New Yorker earlier this summer, Laura Miller suggests that young adults are particularly drawn to dystopias because they mirror the adolescent experience:

Adults dump teen-agers into the viper pit of high school, spouting a lot of sentimental drivel about what a wonderful stage of life it’s supposed to be. The rules are arbitrary, unfathomable, and subject to sudden change. A brutal social hierarchy prevails, with the rich, the good-looking, and the athletic lording their advantages over everyone else….Everyone’s always watching you, scrutinizing your clothes or your friends and obsessing over whether you’re having sex or taking drugs or getting good enough grades, but no one cares who you really are or how you really feel about anything.

Having recently graduated from high school, I think this observation is quite astute. As in many of today’s dystopias, the challenges of adolescence are temporary. Almost everyone survives their teenage years and emerges wiser, especially if they refuse to surrender their beliefs to the arbitrary rules of the “viper pit”. And then they save money on therapy by writing dystopian novels of their own.