I’m recovering from a creative collapse, for want of a better word.

I was humming along with my Creativity at my side, brimming with ideas, enjoying all sorts of creative pursuits, and then suddenly life got in the way.

Actually, it didn’t just get in the way, it enveloped me with such intensity that I lost my creative ability and all I wanted to do was sit on the couch and do absolutely nothing—not even read.

My Inner Critic went on an absolute rampage, cutting down not only my works in progress but also my published work.

It’s been a long road back. A road that I’ve been blogging about (so if you’re interested, read my previous posts) and that I’m still working my way through.

Gradually I’ve gotten back in contact with my Creativity and I’ve started writing, reading, and playing again.

For me it’s been a gradual thing, a very gradual thing, but for my Creativity…well she’s been waiting a long time to get back into the swing of things and her patience has seemed to evaporate. Suddenly she’s pinging ideas at me quicker than I can think, and I’m just overwhelmed.

This is my second creative recovery in the past few years, and I’ve learned something from the process: when a Creativity is starving and you start reviving them, they suddenly want to do ALL the things.

My Creativity wants to read this book, and that book, AND that book! She wants to write this story but also make notes about another story and then—boom—what about this idea?

It can be like going from zero to sixty without being prepared for it.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful to have her back. But I want you to know that if you get to the point where you used to do nothing creative and now all you want to do is shut yourself in your room and paint with your watercolours for several hours followed by a good hour or two with a favourite book, that’s normal. Your Creativity needs feeding.

In fact, let’s hand over to her for a moment.

So, yes! I’m hungry. Very hungry.

I said before that Creativities can be patient and when you’re having a life roll and everything’s all too much and you feel you can’t do the creative thing, then we curl up and wait. (Although I would say that your Creativity can be a very important partner in coping when life disintegrates around you, but that’s a subject for another post. You hear that, Jessica?)

Imagine you’ve been food-deprived for several days (you can make up the reason, I’m thinking you’ve been imprisoned in a cargo ship because you were investigating the underground caviar trade, but you insert your reason here) and then someone presents you with a piece of toast.

Isn’t that the most amazing thing you could imagine? TOAST! No butter, no jam, just toast. You devour it.

But then you realise man must live not on toast alone. What about eggs? And avocado? And then maybe a side of hash browns? And banana bread? (Can you tell we’re writing this in a café?) And smoked salmon! The more options you can think of, the hungrier you feel (remember, you’ve been starving for days, that’s a key point).

And you actually need all that food. Your body requires restoration! (I was going to write ‘renovation’ but one cannot renovate a body with smoked salmon and hash browns. That’s more an acai bowl, isn’t it? Whatever that is…) You are genuinely hungry and (one could say) needy.

Does that help you understand why when you’re recovering from a life roll, your Creativity goes from being very quiet to suddenly asking for things.

Can we watch this movie? Can we read this book? Can we add whipped cream to your medium-rare steak and eggs to see what happens? And throw in some smoked paprika? And maybe some fennel? What is fennel?

We Creativities need input. We need to feed on creative goodness from others and then we need to create. It’s our raison what’s-it. Something French. Our reason for being. And the more your Creativity recovers, the more whole you become. Because your Creativity is a part of you. They help keep you mentally and even physically whole (really, get creative thinking about exercise ideas and you might find exercise gets a whole lot more enjoyable, but again, subject for another time).

So pay attention to your Creativity because the more you are able to fill their needs, the happier and healthier you’ll be.

I will add a caveat. Your Creativity doesn’t completely understand what’s possible in any given day. They just know that you’re up, you’re awake, and you must therefore be available. Ever had the best idea of the week just as you’re waking up (and then you forget it, right? It’s not just me…)?

You may need to put limits on your Creativity. You obviously can’t play the mandolin all day if you’re supposed to be working. But you can bargain. You can promise to play for half an hour when you get home. You can plan when to give your Creativity time. Make the appointment and keep it (they get right stroppy if you don’t keep it).

Make sure you appropriately prioritise creative time. As Creativity said, it can have a major impact on your happiness and health. It’s worth making space for it—every week if possible, if not a little time daily. Don’t allow stress and emergencies to push it out. If you have to, change up the way you feed your Creativity (listening to an audiobook while exercising could be a compromise).

You need food. Your Creativity needs stimulation and expression. Don’t freak out if your Creativity suddenly seems in overdrive after a parched period. They’re coming back into their own. Do what you can to fill their needs and you’ll be rewarded with a healthy creative life.

I’m currently reading a science-fiction series written in the middle of the last century. It’s a classic. I’d heard of it before but this is the first time I’m actually reading it.

It’s epic in its scope, both in how far into the future it’s set and in the size of the civilisation it’s documenting. But it is still very much of the time it was written.

For example, there are no computers, but there are projectors and microfilm. Although there is use of faster-than-light travel, some of the planets are still using oil and coal (where they’re getting it I’m not sure) and other planets are using atomic energy. And to really show the time period it was written, characters regularly smoke cigars and cigarettes even if they’re in a spaceship (obviously not in pure oxygen environments!).

I get a little giggle every time I come across something that shows how long ago it was written, but I also really love it (apart from the smoking, of course). The result is a type of sci-fi that gives you an incredible future with really basic technology. It has a wonderful charm that makes it a story about the future and the past all at once. It’s a time capsule of what the future looked like at that point in history.

This feels relevant because we’re going through a change in technology right now. We’ve suddenly acquired artificial intelligence which means that what’s suddenly possible and what people have access to is completely different to only a few years ago.

This hits home with me because I’ve just released my sci-fi story Be All My Futures Remembered which was written last decade. Before AI. And I’ve toyed with the idea that maybe I should go back in and try to shoehorn in some AI references. Will my sci-fi look strange because there’s no AI? Or will it be the last sci-fi I wrote before AI became a thing?

Reading that classic sci-fi has taught me that it’s okay to capture your current dynamics while trying to describe the future. That’s all part of the charm. It’s the deeper milieu to what I’m creating. The author and her time period are reflected in the work.

What does my Creativity have to say on the subject?

I told her not to change it! But did she listen? Nooo. She has to go off and read ancient sci-fi before she feels she has permission to leave something JUST AS IT IS! (Point of contention. Can you tell?)

Phhoofff!

Now that I’ve come down off that tall horse (or was it a soap box?) (no wait, is it tall horse or high horse?)…now that I’ve come down off whatever I’ve come down off of, let’s have a little chat about things that get in our way.

If you’re trying to be timeless, well first of all you don’t get to decide what’s timeless. Other people do. You just get to create the best most amazing thing you and your Creativity want to create and then let it go where it may—whether it becomes your mother’s favourite lullaby about fluffy bunnies and persimmons or a bestselling epic on clown-shaped snow globes that take over the world (you can have that idea, Jessica doesn’t want it for some reason). And second, you can’t ever completely create something separate from your environment and time period, and that’s completely okay. That’s true of everyone who creates.

Trying to cover all your bases and all eventualities is not only a huge time suck, but it’s also a formidable barrier to creating anything. It gets you too ‘up in your head’ (I believe the term is, though ‘in a mental twizzle’ could be another one) and thinking about what’s going to happen to your project once it’s out of your hands.

But when it’s out of your hands it’s…well…it’s OUT OF YOUR HANDS. Worrying about how your story or painting or composition will come across twenty, fifty, a hundred years down the track only serves to pretty much ensure it will never even see one year out in the world. Worrying about it will stop you dead more effectively than a rotten sycamore after a category five cyclone (because they fall down during cyclones, get it? Well, if I have to explain it, then it’s not working, is it? Sigh. It’s all that soap boxing. I’ve got suds on the brain).

Think about your favourite books, movies, music. Can you see how each of them—from Pride and Prejudice to that latest hit song you can’t stop playing, even in the shower!—is a product of its time? And how often does that time contribute to what you love about that creation?

Okay. Now to conclude. (Though I will just say that yes, “high horse” is the term!)

This subject reminds me of a certain bestselling series that is always set in the year after the book is released, to give you the feeling that you’re about to live through the thrilling events in the book. So, for example, if the book was published in 2019, then the story would be set in 2020.

The problem is, in 2019 there was no way to know we’d be in global lockdown in 2020. And so the story was even more fiction than usual, with no mention of Covid as the characters raced to save the world from a completely different disaster.

Did it make a difference to how I read the book (which I didn’t finish, but I completely started it, which is a solid win for me)? It gave me a little giggle, but there was something to be loved about this mini time capsule that showed what we dreamed 2020 could be.

We’re not mind readers. We’re not fortune tellers. We’re creators. We create in the moment and we create with all our heart.
What we create is a product of the time we’re in right now and it’s our job to create a time capsule and send it out into the world.

So, do you agree? And what time have you encapsulated? Tell us about it below.

The other day I read a really effective murder mystery short story by a bestselling author. I’m not going to say which story it was because I’m about to spoil the ending.

Early in the (very short) investigation, the woman detective finds out that her sister had a grudge against the deceased. It was mentioned in passing, along with a whole raft of suspects.

The victim was an awful person who got up a lot of people’s noses and regularly received hate mail. The perpetrator could have been anyone.

The perpetrator was, of course, the detective’s sister. It had to be. That’s the solution that would pack the biggest emotional punch with the detective and the reader.

But the ending went deeper than that. Not only was the younger sister the murderer, but the way she had covered her tracks and staged the body was a direct challenge to the detective sister who the murderer knew would probably end up on the case. It was the ultimate thumbing-of-the-nose from little sister to big sister.

The solution was satisfying both because it felt completely right but also because it had a surprise in its tail in the shape of the murderer’s grudge against her sister in addition to her grudge against the victim. The tale went from a good story (interesting crime scene), to a really good story (because the identity of the murderer had such emotional significance), to a great story (the intriguing and [for me] unique showdown between sisters).

I thought the way the story was written is a wonderful reminder to take opportunities to expand stories as wide as they can go to get the biggest emotional payoff. If there’s the opportunity to grow your creative project to reach it’s full potential, it’s worth trying.

I don’t feel I’m being completely clear. Maybe Creativity will put it more effectively.

Have you heard of Chekhov’s gun? I’m speaking of Chekhov the author (whom Jessica has never read [am I doing this ‘whom’ thing correctly?]), not Star Trek’s Chekhov (whom we’ve seen since childhood), or Wilbur Chekhov (who collects wombat-themed knick knacks and garden statues, works as a pyrotechnician in the smallest town in Australia, and is someone I just made up).

Where were we?

Yes! Chekhov’s gun.

The idea behind the principle of Chekhov’s gun is that every element of a story must be necessary and everything irrelevant needs to be removed. It’s illustrated by the idea that if there is a gun on the table at the beginning of the story, it must be fired by the end of the story.

Got it? Great. Now remember the gun thing and forget the “must be necessary” and ‘remove the irrelevant’ bits.

Why? Because Creativities love throwing random things into what we create. If we demand fluro orange to be squeezed onto your palette, it’s because it’s worth giving that orange a bit of a dab on the canvas before the day is up. If we think minor character would look good with magenta hair, it’s probably because we’re bored, but it also means that character is memorable and therefore likely to reappear later driving a lime green Aston Martin and providing a sudden and convenient getaway.

So let your Creativity be bold and random and surprising, because those things are what make your story or painting or art installation memorable, exciting, unique, and some fourth thing that will come to me in a moment…

Your creative projects have so much potential. But most of that potential is connected to the relationship you have with your Creativity. If you allow your Creativity breadth and opportunity and freedom, you’ll get a result that pushes your project’s potential wider than you could have originally imagined.

So why not try? Why not give yourself free rein? (Is that the right rein? Reign would work too, wouldn’t it? I do, after all, rule supreme in Jessica’s Imaginationland.)

Transformative! That’s the fourth thing. Or should it be transformational? I don’t know. Let me know what you think.

So you get the idea. Let your Creativity dream big and wide so your project can reach its full potential.

I do, though, have one thing to say about Chekhov’s gun (see, we mentioned it early so it had to come back). You don’t have to create completely linearly. By that I mean, if you are, for example, writing a novel and you realise as you’re creating your denouement that to reach your ideal crescendo you do indeed need a gun on the table in Chapter 3, then just return to Chapter 3 and add it in. You’re not committed until you hit publish/submit. Let your creative process do what it needs to do to grow the project to its natural size.

The most important thing is to not self-edit, or at least limit that as much as possible. I’ve often been writing when Creativity comes up with some crazy idea to throw into the mix. So often I’ve let her go and then later on it’s paid off in style. My favourite example of this is in my newly released sci-fi romance Be All My Futures Remembered, but that’s a story I’ll tell another time.

When you find ways to work with your Creativity rather than censor ideas as they come through you find that your work will naturally take on a bolder, stronger, larger aspect. Your Creativity is a part of you, and is integral to your voice, your uniqueness, what makes you YOU. So relax into the process, let your Creativity have their way, and see what happens.

And when you do hit that point where your project reaches a height you hadn’t realised was possible, come back here and tell us all about it!

In the meantime, what’s holding you back from exploring your project’s potential? Let us know below.

(Artwork by Violet_Lim on Pixabay)

I am privileged to be part of a tiny chat group with my two closest friends. They’re both very creative. One does fun, amazing artwork at the back of pantries and the like along with knitting fantastic hats (I have three of them) and writing period romance. The other is a wonderfully generous writer and editor as well as jewelry maker, painter, knitter etc. They both do more than I can fit into this post.

But on top of all of that, they’re also readers. Avid readers. Which makes me a little shy when sharing what I write. They’re my ideal audience but they’re also a very experienced audience. They read and they write!

So when one of my friends posted a photograph of two of my titles that she’d just purchased in paperback, my little tummy did a flip.

I wasn’t just worried that she was reading something I’d written. I was also worried because she was reading something I’d written ten years ago.

The Experience Gap

We should always be learning. I feel that’s true of life, but it’s especially true of your creative life. The more you learn, the more that what you create can reach its full potential and the higher you can aim.

But that naturally means that when you look back on what you created in the past, you can see the things that could have been better. In fact, they’ll probably jump out at you and glare. Which leaves plenty of room for the Inner Critic to start wanting to whitewash your backlist.

Every time you learn something, something good that will improve what you do moving forward, there will always be the chance that you’ll look back and go, “Ah, now I would do that differently.”

But I’m here to warn you: don’t try to fix things you created in the past. Improve forward. Why?

Well, I’ll let my Creativity tell you why.

Where Does Change End?

I love learning new things. I hate looking backwards. (Metaphorically, that is. I do love walking backwards, especially balancing hot toast and glacé cherries on my head, because I’m really good at it and there’s so little competition.) If the new thing I can learn will mean the Inner Critic gets free rein to study past productions, then I don’t wanna learn!

Because, ultimately, where does it end?

Can you imagine going into your mother’s box of prized possessions, pulling out your childhood drawings, taking your alcohol markers, and drawing over the top of them?

Two things happen.

Well, three things happen, but let’s focus on the two things first.

One, you don’t make the drawing better, because you’re drawing markers over crayon and everything just goes completely wrong. So you end up with a hot mess and neither a presentable piece of childhood art or an identifiable piece of adult art. You’ve ruined something important and created something pointless. Your mother is not going to pin that on her fridge or mirror or radiator or family album or sock drawer any time soon.

Two, you irrevocably ruin something precious. Because past art is precious. It shows where you came from. It reveals your interests, both art-wise and subject-wise, and perhaps spelling-wise (because let’s face it, we all have our preferences when it comes to C, K, and Q. Do we really need all three? How about Kween Kreativity? Doesn’t that look like a trend we should be following?).

Past creative products, be they art, stories, music, pottery (if you didn’t get to try it in school and create something rather rounded and squat that your mother could use as as…well, as a pencil holder or dust collector or something, then you need to go find a pottery class and make some kind of artifact ASAP), etc. all contribute to a picture of who you were and how you became who you are.

And actually, past creative products create joy. You enjoyed making them at the time and the people you shared those products with enjoyed treasuring them.

The danger is, if you start wanting to rewrite/redo your past efforts, not only will you likely destroy those lovely things, but you’ll also endanger your current and future projects.

Because where does it end?

If you’re going to continue to learn, then why not wait until you’ve read this book about dialogue or colour theory or photographic composition (that’s a thing right? I didn’t imagine it? I mean, I could totally imagine something like this, but I believe at least one someone else has imagined it also, right?) or the ultimate guide to stand up comedy before you actually do anything new? Why not learn all the things and then create something?
If you think like that, you’ll create nothing at all.

The best training is to create. Take the bits of information that you do know, make a thing, and learn by doing. Then find another bit of information and rinse and repeat (and blow dry, why does everyone forget the blow dry of that equation?).

Because, there’s the problem of number three. (Do you remember the mention earlier when I said three things happen?) If you try to ‘fix’ your past creations, your Creativity (who created those things for you in the past and who wants to create new things right now and in the future) will be heartbroken. Your Creativity did the very best they could do at that point in time. Attempting to update and change and ‘fix’ that expression is the equivalent of wiping your Creativity’s efforts out of existence.

It’s not worth it.

Don’t do it.

And if you need a final why, I hand back to Jessica to finish her story.

Your Creation Deserves to Survive

So back to my friend who purchased my older books. Stories I’d written over ten years ago.
I held my breath as she started reading my short story “The Red Umbrella.”

I expected silence as my friend worked her way through my old words and then quietly set my story aside to do something more important.

What I got was a thrilled reader who started quoting dialogue back to me that I’d totally forgotten I’d written.

She loved the character of Hans and his wise words (some of which came from my own expat experience) and she laughed at an anecdote I also had no memory of including (about an eighty-year-old pregnant woman…you have to read the story to understand).

Her response at the end of the story was “I love this so much. It will live in my heart.”

Then my other friend chimed in that she “adored” “The Red Umbrella,” which I hadn’t realised.

If I were going to go back and rewrite a published story, it would have been the introduction to “The Red Umbrella.” My friends’ reactions reminded me to leave it alone.

Our past creations deserve to survive. They deserve to exist and bring joy while we go on to create new things—always learning and improving forward.

What about you? Have you see the joy your past creations have brought to others? Have you enjoyed a creator’s early work?

We’re all aware of the impact of grief and how the process is an intense, and often long-term, process.

In fact, suppressed grief can cause physical symptoms that can even become debilitating if not properly treated.

Can the same thing happen with creative grief? And what even is it?

A Picture of Creative Grief

As part of my creative recovery process, I’ve had to go over the events of the past few years to understand what’s standing in my way—what has been stopping me from even wanting to create.

My past few years have been a roller coaster, including two breakdowns along with cancer surgery and treatment. I went from bursting with creativity (I use the small ‘c’ here as it’s speaking about the term generally as opposed to my personal Creativity specifically) and thoroughly enjoying both writing and reading, to having no interest in it at all. I also went from creating cards and junk journals to not even wanting to pick up a paintbrush. I felt completely unlike myself and unsure if I ever would return to my creative self.

I knew I had a Creativity—I’d always known that—but where she was and what she was doing was beyond my ability to figure out.

Then I started The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, and I started looking at creative losses.

I had plenty of them.

I’d given away favourite writing books when moving.

I’d become incredibly critical of my finished work (that sounds like another post right there).

And, worst of all, I’d lost a story.

I’d been creating a science-fiction, lone wolf murder mystery which I had absolutely fallen in love with. I was making good progress before everything went haywire.

And then, through some very bad decisions, the story got deleted.

And I had no backup. (Lesson learned there!)

I was a good quarter of the way in, and everything was just…gone.

A year or so later I tried to write another story with the same character and it fell flat before I reached 2,000 words. I felt like I’d lost my nerve, my character, my creativity. It was just all gone. And maybe it was never coming back.

My feelings went beyond disappointment.

I was grieving.

And, of course, so was my Creativity.

I’m sure she has something to say on the subject.

So…don’t think me silly…but I still feel very sad about this.

And I’m not a sad kind of personality. I’m usually bubbly, and crazy, and haphazard, and irrepressible.

But today, on this subject, I’m…I’m sad.

Remember when we were talking about the fear of an idea never getting out into the world? Well this idea was not only getting out into the world but coming together in a way that just made me beam every day. And I mean EVERY day. The charaacter, the setup, the descriptions—ooh, I get goosebumps every time I think about them.

Sure, you’re thinking, it’s all very well and good to think something’s wonderful when it never even got to a beta reader. How do we know it was any good. THAT DOESN’T MATTER. It FELT good. It felt amazing. We were having so much FUN.
And then, all of a sudden, due to some really upsetting circumstances—POOF—gone!

Gone.

Completely and utterly gone.

I just want to curl up into a little ball and cry right now. And I have spent a lot of time as a little crying ball over the past few years.
And when you’re crying, your not good for much else.

You don’t want to paint. You don’t want to play piano. You don’t want to do a jigsaw. You don’t want to do nothing.

You’re like a sad little puppy that needs to be coaxed out of his bed to play. Only thing was Jessica didn’t want to play either.

So what do you do when your Creativity is in a ball?

The same thing you’d do for any friend who is grieving.

Start with imaginary flowers and say “I’m sorry this has happened.” And cry. Cry together. Cry till your tears run green, or purple, or whatever colour your tears run when you’re in your imagination. And then you say that you know it’s going to take time to recover, but you’re ready to be gentle and supportive and ready to go wherever your Creativity wants to go whenever they feel like it.

Because your Creativity’s expectations will be weird and sudden and sometimes intense in order to recover from the loss. Just the same as a normal person’s would be.

It’s loss. The first step is recognising it as such.

Causes of Creative Grief and Three Solutions

Deleting your favourite story isn’t the only kind of loss your Creativity can endure.

Receiving a bad review is a common trigger. Missing a creative goal. Realising your creative project is going to take much longer than you imagined. Finding out someone else has published a book or made a movie or performed a play that sounds just like an idea you had. Having to pivot or alter your idea to meet editorial review. (Although I would say if those edits are going to cause you grief, then it’s not the right thing to do!)

Grief happens. In real life and in imagination land. Recognising it is the first step. If your Creativity is MIA, find them. Discover how they’re feeling.

Then figure out what you and they need in order to recover. Are you even still on speaking terms? Is there a decision that needs apologising for? Do you need to promise never to do something again? Find out what you can do to help your Creativity recover.

And then expect a few bumps along the way. Your Creativity may want to read all the books in the library for a few months, or want to be allowed to play with all the pretty papers you’ve carefully collected over the years, or be taken for a beach holiday weekend where you can start work on your next song or book or painting.

Do whatever you need to do to recover. Treat yourself and your Creativity kindly and gently and thoughtfully.

It is possible to recover.

This blog post is proof of that.

Have you ever experienced creative loss? What are you doing to recover?

It’s NaNoWriMo season. Or rather, the month when you can prep for NaNo WriMo, if you want to participate.

For those of you who don’t know, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month (though it should now be called International Novel Writing Month, but InNoWriMo is not quite as catchy). The idea is to write a novel of 50,000 words in the month of November. This is done by writing an average of 1,667 words a day.

If you want to write something other than a novel, or continue writing an existing novel, you are considered a rebel but still very welcome. (I’ve almost always been a rebel when I’ve done NaNoWriMo.)

NaNoWriMo seems quite polarising. Some people love it, other people find the whole idea downright silly.

Whichever side of the fence you’re sitting, you will likely need to start a project at some point. With that in mind, here are a few ways you can go about prepping for a creative burst.

Play “What If?”

This is one of my new favourite creative games. I got it from one of James Scott Bell’s books on writing. He suggests going to a cafe or similar (somewhere you are surrounded by people), mentally picking a person, and then starting to ask “what if” questions.

What if she’s a princess?

What if she’s on the run?

What if the person behind her is an assassin?

You just keep asking “what if?” and see what kind of story your Creativity comes up with. Once you’ve exhausted your what ifs on one person, pick another person and go again.

When my Creativity and I did it the other day, we came up with a worldwide sushi conspiracy, which I was quite pleased with.

This game is wonderful for those times when you’re not sure what you want to write about. It gives you a sudden surge of ideas that you can then cherry-pick to start writing in earnest.

A Voice Journal

This is another James Scott Bell suggestion from his book on Voice (which I have only read the beginning of). Character voice is so important in story, but it can take time to develop and one of the best ways to do that is to get your character talking to you.

You start with a blank page and just ask your character questions. As you write their responses (pen and paper can be used, but I find typing helps me keep up with the answers, and speed can help in this exercise) your character will begin to grow and distinguish themselves.

This is similar to how I got Earnestine’s voice (the eponymous walrus in one of my favourite short stories). I knew I wanted to write her story, but she was just so bland. It was only when I finally got her talking (and giving me the first line of the story) that I knew I’d finally gotten her where I needed her to be.

This is a great exercise to do before NaNoWriMo. While you’re technically not supposed to write any of the novel before you start, you can plan and prepare. A character voice journal is an effective way to prep.

Collect First Lines

Okay, so as I mentioned above, with NaNoWriMo you’re not supposed to write any of the novel before November 1. But if you want to be a little bit of a rebel, you could start here.

First lines can be hard, but equally they can come in a sudden, random thought. You might be looking in your refrigerator one day and then—boom—you’ve got this great first line.

Record them! Keep a notebook in them. Actively look for them. Seriously, first lines are gold. And the best thing is, you’ve likely come up with something really catchy that deserves a whole story written under it.

For over a year I had the line “Mrs. Merkle had three cats: Tinnitus, Reflux, and Mange” on the whiteboard in my bedroom. When I finally got around to writing the story that belonged under it, I got Mrs. Merkle’s Cats. I would never have written that story without that random first line.

So start collecting your own first lines. Then you can pick which one you’ll write under for your next project.

Create a Mood Board

Okay, I’ll hand over to my Creativity for this one.

About time! I thought you’d forgotten me!

Yes! Mood boards. You know those things you can put up on your wall with photographs of darkly lit libraries, smouldering heroes, pressed flowers (or frogs…do they press frogs? They seem to do all sorts of things to frogs. Poor things), and fancy photos of haute cuisine (is that what I mean? It sounds like what I mean. I mean fancy food that costs the earth and never fills you up)?

If images appeal to you, start collecting! Don’t worry about what you think should be in your story (“should” is a bad word, I’m just sayin’). Instead worry about what excites you, what you would absolutely love to write about if you could somehow figure out how to put it into a story.

We Creativities are drawn to things that excite us and that gives us plenty of energy and life to put into what you’re creating. So start collecting! See something you love? Add it to your board. Think of something you love? Go looking for an image that captures it.

Protect your board from your “shoulds.” By that I mean, if dear Aunt Hilderbrand (is Hilderbrand a woman’s name? She’s imaginary, it doesn’t matter) sent you a tired and bland anniversary card with the ubiquitous photo of a hydrangea on it, you do not need to add it to your mood board. Only add things that bring you joy.

Then when you’re writing and can’t think where to go next, pick something from your mood board and bung it in!

So there you have it: four ideas that can help prep you for your next writing project. Will it be NaNoWriMo?

Tell me, how do you prep for writing a story?

(Quick note to my e-mail subscribers. Due to technical difficulties, the notifications for the past two blog posts went awry. So you’ve missed my post introducing Creativity and my post about creative fears. Hopefully I’ve fixed the snafu and we’re back to original broadcast quality!)

I’m returning to a creative routine after years of life upsets. Or at least I’m trying to return to a routine.

After learning about the routines of several successful writers, I decided to imitate them and tried setting my goal at 2,000 words a day.

That didn’t happen.

I changed it to 1,000 words a day.

Some days I got there, other days I didn’t even write a single word.

Finally I set my goal to 250 words a day.

A crazily small amount.

But, it made a difference!

I’m finally writing almost every day. Not massive amounts, but it’s a good start. And often, once I make my 250, I continue to 500, and then maybe 1,000.

Stretching to Goals vs Getting to the Page

One best-selling writer I read about suggested choosing a word count you could meet for the week and then adding 10% to keep you focused.

If you haven’t tried that for your writing, or sketching, or painting, or photography, it’s definitely worth a go. I may go back to that myself once I’m in a better routine.

But I think there’s lots to be said for the goal that is almost too small, just large enough to feel like it matters. Its purpose is not to push you, it’s to pull you. It gets you to the page, or the easel, or the sketchbook, or the piano with the promise that you only need to do something small. Tiny even. And once you’re there, well maybe you can do a little more. And then a little more. But if you only do that one small thing, it’s still a success. You’ve made it for the day. Well done!

Creative Blocks to Goals

What’s a goal like for your creative voice inside your head? I’ll hand over to my Creativity to prove a glimpse.

So, there are days I like goals, and there are days I don’t like goals. Rather like the fact that there are days I like chicken nuggets and days I wouldn’t touch them with a ten foot high-jump pole (are they ten foot? Must make a note for Jessica to do her research thingy and figure out why I’m wrong. Again!)

Gah. Where was I?

Yes, goals!

So I’m not a big goal person. I’m a massive play person. If setting a goal for a certain number of words means I get to play for that long, then I’m all for it! But if the goal means my person and I need to sit staring into nothingness for an interminable and torturous (which possibly means the same thing, but hey, I’m not a stickler for the dictionary myself) amount of time, then me and goals are not on speaking terms.

So the heading says “Creative Blocks to Goals” and I would take issue with that! I would say “When Goals Cause Creative Blocks.” Or, more punchily (which is a word, no matter what spell check says), “When Goals Murder a Perfectly Good Creative Luncheon.” Don’t know where the luncheon comes from, but I’m sure it’s involved somehow. I’m already thinking about chicken nuggets and can’t remember why.

My point being, if the goal you set isn’t a play goal but a work goal, then it’s just never going to bring your Creativity to the party. If it’s a goal to aspire to, or rather inspire to (don’t grammar me, I know what I’m saying), and it’s doing something I’m passionate about, then yes! We have liftoff!

If it’s something that’s going to cause drudgery (like, if I’ve finished a chapter and I need some extra imagining time before I give the next word, and then you’re wanting the next 500 words pronto) then me and this goal are not on speaking terms. I ain’t helpin’!

Push Goals vs Pull Goals

From what I can see on the internet, the terms “push goals” and “pull goals” are used with various explanations. If you want to find a definition that works for you, try the Google. For me, I feel that the terms work this way.

A push goal is one that tries to motivate you to reach for success. If you write 1,000 words, you’ve met your goal. If you write 999, you haven’t met your goal. You could view that as a failure, or you could define it as failing to success. You wrote 999 words more than if you hadn’t had that goal in place. Either way, the goal is the measurement achieved.

A pull goal is designed to get you to turn up. It’s so small that you feel like you could just come to the easel, grab your charcoal, spend five minutes (or three minutes, or maybe even one!) sketching, and you’ve achieved your goal. Maybe you stop there. Or maybe you keep going because now you’re at your easel with charcoal in hand remembering how much you do actually enjoy this once you make it this far. The goal is the arrival at your creative space. That is the success. How long you spend there isn’t the issue. It’s getting you there in the right mindset.

Which goal do you need?

I use the term need deliberately. It’s an individual thing at each individual moment.

Do you love your craft and you need something to stretch toward? Set up a push goal.

Do you love your craft once you get there but find yourself avoiding it for some unknown reason at other times? Are you really busy and feel you only have a few minutes a day to do something creative? Instead of setting a goal that is just daunting and too easy to brush off the To Do List, try a pull goal—something that will draw you to your creative space and let you at least start. No judgement. Just start.

I’m interested to know your thoughts. What kind of goals work for you? What kind of goals don’t work for you?

I recently came across this quote in a Vanity Fair interview with Greta Gerwig, the director of Barbie and Little Women.

“At some point, the terror of never making anything becomes much bigger than the terror of making something bad.”

It felt especially relevant to me at the moment. I’m trying to return to creating—writing, blogging, a bit of painting, some junk journalling. I need the reminder that there’s a bigger problem than producing something ‘bad.’ And, to be honest, a little terror could be just the fire underneath me that I need to get going.

Terror of Failure

Last week I wrote about how getting to know your Creative Voice can counteract your Inner Critic.

But let’s take this a step further.

Your Inner Critic is (probably) trying to protect you. It’s petrified (and I mean petrified) of failure.

But, what is your definition of failure?

A bad review.

Work back from that.

A bad story/post/painting/anything.

Work back from that.

Creating something that embarrasses me.

Work back from that.

Keep working back until you find the biggest failure.

I might not be a good writer. I might be a fraud.

Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.

Why? Because that last insight leads us to a completely different kind of failure.

Terror of Inaction

I want to be a writer. I’d love to be a writer that other readers love to read. But ultimately, I want to be a writer.

What’s a bigger failure than writing something that isn’t good?

Isn’t it writing nothing at all?

And so, you guessed it, my Creativity has something to say on the topic.

Oh boy, do I!

(By the way, have you read last week’s post about finding your Creativity? If not, you really should. I’m sure they’re amazing and quirky and inspiring and very well-dressed and you’re missing out if you don’t know them.)

Usually when we talk about fears, we think about the Inner Critic (who, as I write this, is still spats-less even though I’ve told him it’s the in thing for critics the world over. Back me up here!) and we think about the many fears that hold us back from creating.

But did you know that Creativities fear too?

We don’t fear making mistakes (there are ‘no such things as mistakes, only happy accidents’ as one famous creative said). We don’t fear what other people say (we have ideas that must exist! They simply must, no matter what!). They fear…

…never being heard.

They fear never creating anything.

They fear weasels in hot dog buns. Why? Well, don’t you now that I’ve put the idea in your head?

They fear ideas that are dead on arrival because they’ve spent too long in limbo.

They don’t fear never having the ideas (because ideas fly in like…oh, what are they called? Some particle that flies through space and just passes right through you…you know the one, don’t you? Quarks? I want to say quarks. But I think that’s because it’s fun to say quarks. Try it with me! QUARKS!).

Where was I?

Yes! Your Creativity doesn’t fear never having the ideas. They fear never fulfilling ideas. They fear never being heard. By you. By people beyond you. By anyone.

Imagine living your life without ever being heard.

Now do you understand a Creativity’s fear?

It’s not a crippling fear. It’s not debilitating. It’s heartbreaking. If you ever see a Creativity cry, it’s because some grand idea was ignored or never expanded upon.

“What if it’s bad?” is never a worry from your Creativity (though it’s one of your Inner Critic’s favourite objections). What if it never lives is the fear that gets to our core.

So, what’s the solution?

You first need to recognise that your Creativity has a fear. Then you need to find a way to let that fear motivate you. Make your Creativity’s fear your fear too. Make it bigger and louder than your Inner Critic. Put it into words, write those words in massive purple (or blue, or red, but really, purple is better) letters, and stick them up where you can see them.

“What if it never lives?” That’s my fear right there.

Make it your fear too. Make the terror of never making anything your motivation.

One best-selling writer put it this way: make your fear of writing something bad the size of a mouse and make the fear of writing nothing at all the size of an elephant.

That can be extended to anything from painting to piano playing to pottery. What’s worse than the possibility (and it is only a possibility) that something might not turn out how you hoped? Isn’t it worse to have never done anything?

The obvious point is that one can never improve if one does not practice (as true of writing as it is of learning the tin whistle). Each time you create something or do something, you give yourself the opportunity to get better. But really, that’s a point for another day. Today’s thought: what if it never lives?

What if that idea never makes it into the world?

What if your Creativity is just bursting with excitement about an idea and you stop it because it might not be any good? Isn’t that the greater loss?

Isn’t “what could have been” the sadder thought than “what if no one likes this”?

There is so much potential in an idea, not just in what that particular idea could be, but also what it could lead to, what it could teach you, what audience it could reach. As creatives, that potential is what we live for. It’s what we breathe.

So take a deep breath, get your pencil or easel or banjo out, and bring something to life.

Keep the terror of never creating burning inside you. Your Creativity will thank you.

Now tell me, what’s the idea your Creativity is most afraid of losing?

Have you ever encountered the fear of creating something bad? That voice within you that says your idea is rubbish? That it’s just not worth putting the effort into even trying? Or if you have tried, maybe you’re thinking it’s better not to put your creation out into the world?

It seems to me that the fear of making something bad is almost ubiquitous. And we might think that those who aren’t afraid of making something bad probably should be.

A bad poem.

A bad painting.

A bad story.

A bad performance.

We likely feel we’ve seen those.

We don’t want what we produce to be bad.

And so we do what we feel avoids the chance of making something bad.

We obsess over the details of our creation until we freeze into inactivity.

Or we just never start.

We never create, feeling it’s better to create nothing than to create something bad. And so we become blocked.

How do we combat this insidious problem?

The Inner Critic Voice

That voice in our head that tells us we can’t create something bad is our Inner Critic (or Censor, Critical Voice, or resistance, it goes by many names). It’s a very active voice. It is, in many ways, a protective voice. It’s a familiar voice.

It tells us not to try new things because they might go wrong. It tells us not to send our stuff out into the world because someone might not like it. It tells us not to start something because we don’t know how it ends.

That’s what my Inner Critic says. Take a moment and think about your Inner Critic. What does it say to you? How does it stop you from starting, or continuing, or finishing, or sharing your creative project?

Can you hear those blocks as something separate from your Creative Voice? Can you see ways that your Inner Critic is perhaps trying to protect you?

You can’t get upset if no one gives you feedback on what you’ve created. You can’t fail if you don’t start. The voice wants you to think a little bit longer on this project before we start to make sure we’ve considered every angle, then we know it will be good… But just in case it’s not good, maybe we shouldn’t start… It smothers any ounce of creative initiative you might have and undermines every idea before it blossoms, all in the name of fear.

I’m sure you’re very familiar with this voice. And it may be more nasty than what I’ve provided above.

But are you familiar with your Creativity’s voice?

The Creative Voice

The Inner Critic is very vocal. Our Creativity on the other hand may be much harder to hear. Did you know your Creativity has a voice?

Let me demonstrate by introducing you to my Creativity. She’s a little girl with multi-coloured pigtails and very strong opinions.

Would you like to meet her?

Hi! So! Where to start? I’m so nervous. Are you nervous? No, you wouldn’t be nervous, would you? You’re not introducing yourself. I am!

I’m Creativity. Specifically, Jessica’s Creativity. You have your own Creativity, whether you know it or not. And your Creativity has a voice all their own.

How can you hear them?

Well, you kinda got to listen…And you gotta somehow shut up the Inner Critic. Blah! Don’t get me started on HIM! Jessica’s Inner Critic is smelly and old and wears spats! Or rather, he should wear spats. Spats would improve him no end. I have suggested it. He didn’t go for it.

BUT! I’m not here to talk about him. I’m here to talk about you!

You’ve got to shut up your Inner Critic, and often the easiest way to do that is with a mallet and chloroform and—no, actually, scrap that. If you have a mallet you don’t need the chloroform—

Wait! Jessica says we’re suggesting violence, which isn’t okay, and we’re getting off topic. I would disagree with the latter but there you go.

To hear your Creativity, a wonderful exercise is speed writing. (This exercise works even if you’re not a writer! It works for actors, crocheters, and professional ski jumpers. Well, okay, I’m guessing at that last one, but I don’t see why it shouldn’t.)

Get a piece of paper or a computer document (with spell check turned off because those wiggly red and blue or green lines—I can’t remember which colour they are—are VERY distracting and mess up the activity) and set a timer. Pick five to ten minutes, longer if you wish, and just start writing.

Write something like, “Hello, Creativity. Tell me about yourself.” And then just write whatever comes to you. The crazier the better!
You might not hear their voice right away, but the more you allow yourself to just write whatever spontaneous thing that comes into your head, the more likely you’ll come face-to-pen with your Creativity.

As you go, try to find out what your Creativity likes, how your Creativity feels, what excites your Creativity, what depresses them. The more information you can gather, the better.

Try doing this exercise regularly so you can befriend your Creative Voice. And remember, write quickly and without judgement (and with your daughter’s butterfly rainbow pencil if she has one). If you stop and ponder, your Inner Critic can pounce in an instant and you’re back into that dastardly headspace with ol’ smelly you-know-who!

Voices in Your Head

Okay, maybe the idea of a crazy, random voice in your head sounds like a whole lot more trouble than it’s worth. The truth is, you already have a voice in your head—your Inner Critic. That can be a debilitating and soul-destroying voice. Don’t you want someone fun and encouraging and—Creativity says I should write effervescent, but I don’t think it means what she thinks it means—well, creative?

In my experience, everyone has some kind of Creativity inside them. And their Creativities are as unique as the person who finds them.

With a Creativity inside, you have a voice that combats criticism, a voice that encourages you to protect your creative need instead of warding off possible ‘bad’ results. You have a voice you can work together with to create things that have never existed before—your creative projects.

So tell me, what’s your Creativity like? I’d love to meet them.

I have often heard the phrase “what’s past is prologue” but until recently had never stopped to consider it’s meaning. I didn’t even know it was Shakespeare. I also didn’t know the murderous intention of the character who spoke it.

I definitely knew what a prologue was.

In my early writing life, I was very ready to add a prologue to anything I was writing—whether it needed one or not! It would be dramatic and foreshadow while providing a good smattering of backstory. All the things that probably make people hate prologues.

I’d grown out of them by the time I started writing in earnest, sometime in 2014. But one day a prologue came to me. A fantasy prologue that hinted at all sorts of amazing things to happen in the story. I was completely taken in and wrote and wrote and wrote.

180,000 words later I had myself a story I loved.

The only problem was…the prologue no longer fit.

I had to throw it out.

(The story is currently with beta readers and will hopefully come out sometime next year. The current title is Soundless and it’s a fantasy with a deaf protagonist.)

The prologue had done it’s job though. It had spurred me on to write everything that came after it.

And it was as that prologue came to mind the other day that I thought of the phrase “what’s past is prologue.”

You see, I’m recovering from a…what’s the right word? Rut isn’t it. I prefer the term best-selling author Kristine Kathryn Rusch uses. A life roll.

I started publishing a decade ago. Goodness, time doth fly. In that time I have published two novels, one novella, almost twenty short stories, and three short story collections. I have a backlog of short stories that haven’t been published as well as a romance science-fiction story called Be All My Futures Remembered that is on the cusp of being ready to send out in the world. And I’ve got Soundless which was a mammoth task on its own.

But, to be honest, I’m not where I want to be. And that’s all to do with my life roll.

I won’t go into all the details. Goodness knows there are plenty of them. The highlights (or more probably the low points) were two breakdowns and a cancer diagnosis.

I’m cancer free. This month is my five year anniversary. I still have no idea how I got it, neither do the specialists and even the geneticists. I have no history of it in my family. It was just one day—boom—there.

But in the five years since, I’ve been struggling to write, to publish, to blog, even to read anything with enjoyment. My synapses had fried, and it has taken me a long time to recover them.

Thusly why I like the term life roll.

But the other day the phrase “what’s past is prologue” came to mind and I suddenly understood what it meant.

The phrase comes from Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Two characters are discussing what they are about to do—commit murder—and part of the rationalization is “what’s past is prologue.” Does it mean that the characters are fated to do the dastedly deed because of what has gone before? Or does it mean that everything that has gone before has set the stage for them to “make their own destinies” as Wikipedia says? That seems to be a topic ripe for discussion, as much of Shakespeare is.

In my case I have no intention of murdering anyone (even my ‘darlings’ as the writing phrase goes, which I apparently should be doing more of). What clicked with me is the idea that whatever has gone before can inform and provide foundation for the success you can build atop it.

I’ve had a rough few years. But what did it teach me? What experiences did it provide me so I can write with more depth and emotion?

I hadn’t understood cancer before (even though I’ve written a supposed cure for cancer in Be All My Futures Remembered). Do I understand it now? Not really, but I know what stages mean and the different treatment options, and the pressure to choose the right options because suddenly your life is involved. I understand when you lose your hair. (I thought it was radiation. It’s not, it’s chemo. Thankfully, I didn’t lose my hair…) I understand that getting a margin is only the beginning. I understand what sentinel nodes are and how they’re found. And I understand the camaraderie you feel when you find you’re talking to a fellow cancer survivor.

Does that help my writing? It surely must. How can it do anything but?

The only thing stopping that from happening is me trying to recover my brain cells and, to a certain extent, my personality.

I used to write like I breathed—constantly and with a comforting flow. Now… Now I’m starting to recover the beginnings of that.
I used to blog over at Creativity’s Workshop on all things creativity. Now I know what it’s like to struggle to produce any kind of creativity. To sit on a couch and have no compulsion to do anything but continue to sit there. To lie in bed and be perfectly happy in a warm little ball and have no interest in getting up early to make progress on a story.

I’m a recovering creative. And I feel like that’s a worthy story to tell. I finally feel ready to start blogging again—to start documenting a process that could (I dearly hope) help others who want to create something but don’t know what’s stopping them. Who want to grow and thrive creatively. If that’s you, let’s go on a journey together! I promise to turn up each week and I would love to hear your comment on how you’re progressing. Tell me what you’re struggling with and let’s work through it together.