Danielle the Barncat has four sure-fire tips for how to discover the extraordinary in the ordinary ... and apply it to your writing. Here is her report:

According to Freud, the uncanny is that weird feeling you get when something familiar feels strange. Freud associated the uncanny with cognitive dissonance, a sensation devoutly to be avoided. But at Barncat we encourage writers to seek and embrace the uncanny. Even if the supernatural-seeming phenomenon can be traced back to a blip of neurobiology, a touch of the uncanny adds texture to your writing. We like it because it allows creative ideas to leap from one unlikely synapse to another, and because it marries the unusual with the quixotic to produce a thought, a plot twist, a jolt.

1  Wake up early. Really early. No, earlier than that. Yes, you can do it. Some of you are already early birds; we tip our sleeping caps to you. Still, don’t think we’re letting you off easy unless you’re actually beating the sunrise.

There are many practical and physiological advantages to getting up early. Early risers are more cheerful and productive, better rested (oddly enough), and more creative. But we’re not even talking about that! The early rising we have in mind is not about energy or packing more hours into the day. This is not about using the time efficiently and effortlessly to pound out an extra two pages of manuscript. The early rising we have in mind here is an act of passivity. Your mission is to get yourself up and out at an ungodly hour to witness that glorious (dare we say uncanny?) moment when the day unfolds.

We can’t account for every time zone or degree of latititude. But where the Barncats prowl, the transformation is phenomenal. As the sky lightens and the first early bird begins to chirp, the city tangibly shakes off its slumber and heaves a roar-like yawn. Coffee vendors rumble up in trucks, diners roll up their nightly shields and throw open their doors. In minutes the sleepy nighttime streets are transformed, newly recognizable in the morning sun.

It’s an undeniably exciting moment, full of promise. Interesting things happen then. Perhaps only then. Wake up. You’ll see.

2  Go to a museum. Museums are inherently vehicles for the uncanny. They force you to re-evaluate the everyday (à la New York's Museum of Radio and Broadcast Television. Museums offer a detailed, nuanced view of things you thought you knew; or, conversely, things you didn't even know you didn't know.

Also, let’s face it—museums are a little creepy. We like that. We’re writers. Museums can be downright frightening; a bonus! Museums allow us the necessary quiet to reflect on the ordinary—and that in itself can unearth the uncanny.

3 Take the train. Or the equivalent in your neck of the woods. Everyone seems to hate commuting. Naturally, Barncat will adopt the contrarian view: “Everyone” is wrong. Those twice-daily trips on the train/bus/ferry can and should be the best part of your day. When else can you shamelessly people-watch, read that book you never have time for (or that gossip magazine you publicly deride) and give yourself over to a journey beyond your control. Even if you hate your job, embrace the journey.

The truly uncanny thing about trains/buses/ferries is that for a small window in time you share an unbreakable bond with complete strangers. You are all as one in your distress, delight, delay and direction. The opportunity to be mentally in sync with total strangers is rare and strange and … yes. Uncanny.

4 Take a Class. Yes, it's time for shameless self-promotion. Take a Master Workshop with Jami Bernard and find the uncanny in your writing. A class may be just the thing you need to remind you that there is already much that is strange and wonderful in the way you work with words. It's easy to get so bogged down that your work seems jaded and tired. Get a reality check through the fresh perspective of others.

So take a class (okay … even if it isn’t one of ours, hmmph). You’ll be reminded that your writing can embrace the uncanny.

There's a good chance it already has.