3 Tips to Enrich Your Creativity

Flower pattern fabric

I usually post my blog every Tuesday. But yesterday I was just uninspired.

I didn’t want to write my blog.

Whenever I find myself resisting and rebelling, it usually means I’ve neglected some part of myself that wants and needs expression.

When I’m blocked, I write—by hand—about how I’m feeling. There’s something about putting pen to paper that re-starts the flow for me. (Especially if I’m using a favorite fountain pen, with beautiful teal ink!)

This morning, I surprised myself: I wrote that I wanted more time for my creativity to gestate.

Just as a field needs to lie fallow for the soil to be restored, creativity needs that time, too. I don’t know if it’s the time of year—fall is approaching—but I’m aware of the need to stop doing so much, to let my deeper work develop.

If the change in light, the cooler nights, or simply your own inner season is telling you to slow down, here are three tips to support yourself while you’re enriching your creativity.

1. Let Go of Expectations

When you’re in a creative gestation, you need to let go of your expectations of yourself. Life and creativity aren’t about being productive 24/7. They both require rest and play.

If you ignore that need, and demand of yourself that you constantly produce—and that it’s always “perfect”—you’re abusing your creativity. You’ll burn out, just like soil leeched of nutrients.

Forcing yourself to be productive is fruitless. Let go.

2. Listen to Your Whispering Voice

You know what to do; you just have to give yourself the time and space to hear yourself clearly.

Turn off the TV, put away your phone, and unplug the computer. Get outside and take a walk by yourself. Notice things. Stop and look up at the leaves on the trees. Pay attention to the ground beneath your feet. Take in the scents around you. What do you hear?

Journal with no end in mind: just see what flows from your fingertips, and follow your inner wisdom.

3. Seek Out What Inspires You

Go to a play, a concert, a reading, an exhibition. Read literature. Go to a great, old book store and browse. Sit in a chair and sample a book or two. Read a poem.

Resist the tyranny of a clean house. Regardless of whether dust lies on the table, time is passing. Inspire your spirit first.

Let other kindred spirits, who have tapped into their own wells, help you tap into yours. Replenish your creative soil—and your soul.

And remember—be kind to yourself!

A Thread of Thought

Seed hanging in spider web

Virginia Woolf’s premise—that a woman needs money and a room of her own to write—is certainly true for anyone who creates. Having enough money and your own space gives you precious, uninterrupted time—and a place to focus.

Stretches of time are essential to my writing, if I’m going to go deep enough. The more “little” things that interrupt my day, the harder it is for me to tap into my creativity.

I started today feeling creative. On my morning walk with my dog, I thought about what I might write about in this blog post. Then I had a routine health appointment, and after that, a grocery store trip. And then, I navigated traffic to get home, and made lunch.

Now, here I am, trying to get back to where I was hours ago. If I imagine my mental space to write as its own landscape with a map, can I get back to where I was?

Backtracking sometimes works. Taking another walk would probably do it. But it’s 100 degrees Fahrenheit outside. So instead, I’m sitting at my desk in an office of my own, enjoying the rotating fan that helps me weather my hot flashes!

When you can’t backtrack, take another path.

Yesterday, as I sweltered in the hot, humid yoga studio, the teacher said that heat is transformative. Her comment stayed with me, because when I’m experiencing intense change and growth, I often think of myself as “being cooked.” When I’m completely submerged in it, I call it “being in the soup.”

Following my thread of thought, from uninterrupted time and space to the heat of transformation, what do I find there?

A single bead of sweat, clinging to the end of the thread, like a jewel.

View of shoreline through water drop

When I look through that clear sphere of water, I see shapes distorted. I am reminded of a snow globe, with a tiny world inside, curving inward.

So if my mind is a map, and it curves back on itself, I realize that even when I think I’ve lost an idea, or a description, it’s still there, cooking, breaking down, re-forming, and blooming in warm, rich soil.

In the end, if I stay with it long enough, something emerges.

If you don’t have uninterrupted time, and a place to create your art, it’s up to you to make that happen. And when life interrupts, wander the paths of your own mind. Root around in the soil.

Keep going!

Something will turn up, I promise you.

Water drop over ripple

Writers Are Conscious Dreamers

The writer is by nature a dreamer - a conscious dreamer. - Carson McCullers

I love this quote because it describes the experience of writing so well!

Composing a story or a poem is dreaming with your eyes wide open. Images and textures, thoughts and words, sounds and smells, and feelings float in from the ether.

You catch some of them in your net—and bring them into the waking world with ink and paper. You build of them something new, an arrangement of words only you could make.

When you’re finished, you’ve created something whole and shining, like a crisp red apple in the the palm of your hand.

Share your conscious dreams with us. We want to know what you see.

Is this Guy Your Muse?

Chubby guy in cherub costume

He might be. Especially if you’re writing comedy!

He’s not mine—except perhaps for the little bit of whimsy he’s bringing to this blog post.

So if he’s not your muse, who is? What is  a muse, anyway?

A muse is the personification of inspiration and energy that comes from—somewhere.

Whether you think it comes from the divine, the universe, your intuition, your subconscious, or the All Night Diner for Dancing Giraffes—it doesn’t matter. It’s real, and you know it when you’re plugged in to your muse.

Maybe you wake up at 3 AM and invent a painting technique that better enables you to represent the texture of a tree trunk—and you just have to get up and try it!

Or you stay up past 3 AM, writing a story that flows from you in a river of purple ink. It’s exciting and a little dizzying, because you feel so alive. You may be directing the story a little, but the characters are mostly leading you to places that you never thought they’d go. Each scene is a discovery!

Of all the types of creative expression I practice, writing is my deep calling. I used to think inspiration would strike like a bolt of lightning. I would hear angels singing, as they floated to earth with pithy phrases and perfectly-formed literary sentences.

Over time, I began to think of writing as work. Not in the good sense—when I’m deeply engaged and working hard on something meaningful—but in the not-so-good: slogging through flat ideas and flat sentences.

Then I realized that I need to have a relationship with my muse. I have to nourish her with walks in nature and trips to the art museum, with summer concerts in the park and playing with watercolors.

And guess what? The more I feed my creativity, the more inspiration and enthusiasm I have to express.

And that makes all the difference.

Becoming an Artist

It’s easy for me to feel frustrated at the gap between my vision of what I want to express, and a finished piece of writing. With painting, too, I have an idea, and then realize half-way through what I needed to do differently.

But on the other hand, the surprise of how a short story or painting ends up is interesting to me, and it’s how I learn.

And often, my “mistakes” teach me something I wasn’t looking for, but needed to know. They can even make the story or painting better than I originally imagined!

To me, making art is focused play, between the person and the media she’s using.

I like Willa Cather’s quote below, because creating is a process of becoming. I’d say that is true of any part of a person’s life, where he is growing. But just because it’s a kind of play doesn’t mean that it isn’t difficult work.

Every artist makes himself born. It is very much harder than the other time, and longer. - Willa Cather

So if you’re feeling frustrated that it’s taking too long to get where you want to be—be gentle with yourself. Just as you’re bringing something new and unique into the world, you are doing the same with your creative life.

It’s almost a brand-new year.

You’re here for a reason.

What do you want to bring into this world in 2016?