Creative in a different way

Creative in a different way - Podcast

I am at a creativity low, and a writer friend said she was too, but she just sat and wrote, not sure what she was going to produce. She produced a poem full of meaning and emotion. 

I am taking her advice. I am sitting in my writing hut, and this is what my subconscious has spewed out into my laptop.

Interesting.

Creative low

Each time we spend six weeks in the UK my creativity dwindles to nothing, and yet, every time we leave home, I expect to keep writing, drawing, and painting. I set myself goals and promise I will do some every day. 

Writing 

I took notebooks for - editing and adding to my memoir, finishing the word ‘read aloud’ edit of Seeking Dragons, competition story writing, cycle tour writing, a general ‘I might think of a new story notebook’, and my diary.  I planned to continue with my blog each week.

What writing did I do?

I finished listening to the computer read aloud Seeking Dragons making edits as needed, I wrote in my diary every night, did nothing for the memoir, wrote a third of a competition story, wrote one poem, the cycle tour didn’t happen due to fierce winds, nothing new leapt from my brain onto the page. I managed two blogs. Not a very productive six weeks.

Art

I took crayons to do more sketches for seeking dragons, pens for pen and ink sketches, watercolour paints and pad, my tangle ideas notebook and gel pens. 

What art did I achieve?

I finished a sketch for Seeking Dragons, but I need to do it again -there is a glaring wrongness, created four pencil sketch and watercolour wash pictures of Glastonbury Tor and my technique improved, I painted a couple of paintings of foxgloves, and drew a couple of tangle ideas but didn’t use colour. Most of the time my art resources remained in a bag.

Why does my creativity vanish when I am in the UK with much loved family? 

I think it’s because when I am with family I give my full attention to them, maybe I use my creativity up in problem solving for others, I have no routine in the UK as I move from one household to another so it’s easy to lose the habit, my head is full of family, I am emotionally tired as I try to squeeze a year’s worth of love and attention into a few weeks and waves of sadness at the passing of time and the cruelty of disease and old age slaps me in the face, I have no dedicated writing space – poor excuse I know, I tend to suffer from imposter syndrome when away from home feeling like I am wasting time writing as only free books are downloaded and read, my attention is pulled a thousand ways as I understand every spoken word and my mind fills up with chatter as I listen to conversations, have ‘oh that would be great in a story’ or ‘what a character she would make’ and then I forget the ideas– in France I can tune out and hear sounds only so it is less intrusive, I miss my solitude, garden and home, and my husband as we are often in different homes, and I read rather than write- it’s easier. 

How does this lack of creativity make me feel? 

Disappointed in myself, unproductive, sad, annoyed, a failure, guilty for reading not writing, lost, tired.

What can I do? 

Oh, this is fun, writing without any expectations, almost like writing therapy. What ideas will my mind come up with, what solutions to this very real problem? 

Lower my writing expectations so I am not disappointed in myself, in fact decide not to write anything and then if I write something I will be happy- not sure this is possible but hey ho, I can try.

Take a small notebook and jot down what I hear and see, not thinking about how to use anything, just making a note so it doesn’t clog my brain but instead gathers fodder for stories.

Ignore the nagging imposter syndrome and accept it as part of a creative’s life, see it as confirmation I am a creative and smile when it rears its head. 

Accept that being social is tiring but it doesn’t matter if I am tired, I will gain back my energy when I return home to our quiet life. 

Accept sadness and happiness in equal measure. 

Enjoy reading lots, knowing that every book I read teaches me something about writing. 

Understand my need to be completely present with my family, that this priority fills my soul in a different way to writing and creativity and means I will have no regrets in the future, only happy memories. 

And what happy memories were made – 

Dancing in the sitting room with my mum and dad to a record they used to play when I was a child. Wandering a stony beach with my sister searching for treasure in the form of sea tumbled glass. 

Eating breakfast on the fabulous Dorset coast with my son and husband.

Finding the elusive puzzle piece with my mum-in-law and sharing that tiny moment of triumph. Spending an afternoon creating a Dungeons and Dragons character for me with my son, even if I was unable to use it. 

Watching my dad’s fish swimming and eating in his large pond, together. 

Painting with my mum. 

Cycling new and familiar roads with my husband.

Sitting in the rain in the garden of a beautiful house wearing ponchos to watch fringe theatre.

Watching birds in someone else’s garden.

Making pizzas with family and cooking them in my sister’s pizza oven in her new home.

Gardening with my mum.

Going to see a film – the sequel to a film from years ago - with husband, son and brother-in-law.

Laughing and exclaiming at old photos.

Sharing stories with aunts and uncles. 

Playing board games.

Finding fossils and toenails – I never knew these fossilised creatures had this apt name -on the beach with my brother-in-law.

Observing the lives of loved ones.

Visiting and hugging my dad-in-law, making him laugh and cry (proud tears I promise) as he sits in his chair looking out at geese, chickens, and alpacas in a moment of wakefulness.

Walking and cycling down memory lanes, figuratively and for real.

And now I realise, through the power of cathartic writing, that these moments of life are what writing and art express. 

I wasn’t on a creative low.

I was being creative in a different way.