Write in anyone's voice.
Starting with yours.

The best ideas come when you're not trying, which is another way of saying they come when you have stopped performing the act of thinking and have instead allowed the mind to return to its own rhythms, the way one allows a horse to find its way home in the dark. I have noticed that my own ideas arrive in the shower, or on the freeway between the San Bernardino exit and the merge toward LAX, or in the specific quality of boredom that descends at a dinner party in Brentwood when someone is explaining their position on interest rates — which is to say they arrive precisely when I have abandoned the notion that I am the kind of person who has ideas worth having.

The best ideas came when you walked. Or when you were in the shower. Or when you were looking at the water. You did not sit at the desk and wait for them. That was no good. You could sit there all day and nothing would come and you would feel bad. But then you would go out and walk by the river and you would not think about the problem and the idea would be there.

The reason the best ideas come when you're not trying is that your conscious mind is terrible at making novel connections but excellent at getting in the way. When you're actively trying to solve a problem, you're basically running a search through familiar territory — the same neural pathways you've worn smooth through repetition. But when you're in the shower or walking the dog, your unconscious mind starts doing something more like annealing in metallurgy: it lets connections form at random and keeps the ones that reduce tension in your overall mental model.