Working hard in a creative field can sometime feel like…well…work. In my own experience, there is no substitute for consistency, hard work, 1000 words a day. These things accumulate and become more than the sum of their parts. The words take on substance. I start to see not just the words but also the spaces between.
But even devotion has its dangers. Sometimes, these long continuous periods of creativity dig deep inside of us, and ruts begin to form, unnoticed at first but eventually effective. Work starts to feel less and less like spreading seeds over fertile ground and more and more like taking a day’s worth of seeds, digging a small hole, and piling them all in one spot. And covering them up.
Something I’ve recently discovered about creativity is that it thrives in variety. I’ve discovered this by commandeering my daughter’s paint set she got for Christmas (as well as one of her canvases), and painting my first acrylic painting. It’s terrible, but that’s not the point. The point is that when I engage in other creative efforts, things shift inside of my brain. Old ruts are filled in with inexperience and innocence and the scattering only a novice can initiate.
So try something different. Paint. Write a poem. Carve a piece of wood.
Or sing with Sting: