Getting in the Creative Groove

When the well runs dry and the ideas won't flow, it's time to get out of your head. Really out of your head. I like walks. Rambling, long walks in places I haven't been. The point is to turn focus away from the critical voices yammering inside the skull. I play a game - looking for x number of things to see. Things to observe. From the macro - Some days there are great alpine glow photos. (Alpine glow on the Olympics here). To the micro - Some days it's nothing more than listening to the gentle cackle of a pair of crows courting one another in the trees. Or the little weird and wonderful things that happen closer to

home - like a seagull trying to make a snack out of something as big as it is. The point is to focus outward, to distract the ego enough that the creative juices have a chance to work in the background. For me, the more I try to pin creativity down with ego-driven critical YOU SHOULD BE <fill in the blank>, the more creativity squirms away, retreating into the dark. If I give the grasping, frenetic portion of my conscious mind something to do, creative stuff is then free to sneak back into the open. I favor walks because moderate physical exertion works wonders for shutting up monkey mind. So does journaling.
 

 In the bad old days before better living through chemistry made ironing work shirts a thing of the past, I would have my best writing breakthroughs while ironing (which I absolutely hated - ironing - not the ideas.) The task was mindless, but you had to pay attention so as not to burn down the house. Or permanently press your digits. Conscious mind got occupied with wrinkles. Creative mind churned in the background, kicking out little 'hey, what if' voices. The closest I get now, is through walking a couple of miles (which occupies the conscious mind) or via deliberate alpha state meditating.

Still. All of that can be a little naval gaze-y. And occasionally, the best option is to stopping focusing inward at all. The best kick in the creative pants comes from looking out at the world and observing. Mary Buckham, in the midst of teaching a plotting course, once said that it is a writers job to see what no one else can or will see and then bring that to the page. We concentrate so hard on getting things to the page, we forget all about being observers of our world - all of our world, not just the bits inside our heads. Which makes me think that maybe tomorrow morning, I'm due for a good, long walk.



Creative Jumpstarts

Burnout is a real thing, and it is something I worry about.  My multi-series strategy is something I came up with to help combat it-- I'd be less burned out if each thing I write focuses on different characters.  But even still, I need to have other ways to kickstart my creative energy when I'm in a lull.

Part of how I do that is delving back into the primordial parts of the creative process- worldbuilding, outlining, mapmaking.  I love doing that stuff even if there isn't necessarily a project for it on the horizon.  

But I also love to keep going back in and expanding the work I've done, finding new ways to express it.

Which is why I'm so thrilled I found a new toy, which I'm going to blatantly shill: Aeon Timeline.

This is a cool program that lets you create timelines, spanning from cosmic levels of ages down to by-the-minute.  You can use it to work out the history of a worldbuild or outline a specific project.  You can even create your own calendars and dating system, track multiple arcs, tie events to people or things.  It is a powerful tool.  It even can sync with Scrivener, which isn't a feature I've tried out yet, but I think I will when I dive into the Lady Henterman's Wardrobe draft.

But I'm really thrilled.  Plus you can export in all sorts of ways, like this image of the history of Druthal:

So, let's have a bit of fun.  If there's something in the history of Druthal that intrigues, tell me in the comments.  I'll expand upon it in an upcoming post.

For now, back to the word mines.  These books don't write themselves, after all.

Creativity Boost

If you are into Affirmations and/or Candle Magic, here are a few ideas to try...ones that my heroine Persephone Alcmedi would surely be into...

**Use common sense and follow basic fire safety.**

AFFIRMATIONS:
I am open to new ideas and
am blessed with many.

I recognize validity in new ideas.
I can develop new ideas into product.

CANDLE MAGIC:
Dress and light a pale blue candle, and place it where you can sit comfortably before it. Hold a geode in your non-dominant hand, close your eyes and relax. Call for ideas for your project, name it specifically (for my book, for my painting, for my lyrics). Make it a chant if you can rhyme it. Since three is a creative number, repeat your chant in cycles of three. Imagine ideas flowing like water, filling the geode ‘cup’ in your hand. Either have the ideas filter through the geode and into you, or ‘drink’ the ideas from the ‘cup.’
Ways to increase this:
• make it a nine-time chant

• use three blue candles in a triangular formation—keep the tip pointing at you and imagine the ideas funneling through the other two and being directed toward you by the foremost one

• do this on a Thursday and call on Jupiter in your rhyming chant, such as:
“Mighty Jupiter in the sky,
send ideas from on high,
fill my creative cup
and never let it run dry!”


AFFIRMATIONS:

My daydreams feed my work,
and my work feeds my daydreams.

My (art/writing/music) displays dexterity
and is imbued with inventiveness.

I am clever. I am imaginative. I am creative.

CANDLE MAGIC:
Dress and light a green candle under a waxing moon, especially if the planet Venus is in a position to be a positive influence.
Ways to increase this:
• invoke Benzaiten, Japanese goddess of all that flows and ask her guide your imagination.
• add green tourmalines.
• Invoke Dionysus—I’m not suggesting you alter your mind with alcohol—but as a means to grasp the inventiveness of spontaneity.

Also, read THIS.

Or check out this meditation HERE.

Writers' Nightmares: Running Out of Creative Juice

When the horror strikes, when my creativity feels humdrum, unoriginal, or pitiful, I step away from tech. No, no, I'm nowhere near as healthy as James and his bucolic strolls. I've a thing for snorting fumes. I like to...

Paint Stuff.

Walls mostly. I'm not talented by any stretch. I'm no great artist like some of my fellow bordello mates. I tried to paint dragons on my fireplace once. Looked like a giant had sneezed on it instead. ~ew~ I can freehand some scroll work and know to wipe a stencil after each application. There's a mandala I'm toying with in a sketchbook that I think I want to paint on an exterior wall of my house...or polka dots. I'd love to pull off a dragon reading a book, but see the aforementioned last disaster with dragons.

I aspire to be a Rehab Rhonda. I have scads of those upcycled sites bookmarked. Sadly, I don't have a carpenter's workshop in my garage. I want to. I fantasize about miter saws, routers of the non-wifi sort, cordless nailers, and jigs that may or may not involve kilts. Oh, and small-order lumber delivery services. I tried to fit a 2x4 in my Bug once, the drive home was like a Benny Hill skit.

What I like about painting is the tangible end result. Visual. Visible. Hard to miss. Short-term effort. Long-term enjoyability. All the things that writing a novel isn't.

Okay, okay, you're right. Paperbacks are tangible. 

Painting is both my mental break and my well of creative renewal. By the time I'm done with the paint project, I'm eager to return to the WiP.

When My Creativity Needs a Kick in the Ass, I...

We had some coyote visitors the other day. I took this through our glass front door. They look happy and healthy!

This was an interesting topic for me to contemplate, largely because I don't really regard myself as a creative person. People react weirdly when I say that. I mean, I know that writing is a creative process. Hell, it's called "creative writing," right? But maybe it's all those years of scientific training and working for an environmental consulting firm. Scientists for the most part don't regard themselves as creative.

To be fair, maybe they aren't.

One of my all-time favorite teachers, the late Professor David Hadas at Washington University in St. Louis, looked at creativity through a spiritual lens. He taught religious studies (my other major, besides biology) and was my honors adviser, so he had a profound influence on me. He once told me about a public appearance he did, discussing how creativity is an expression of the soul, of transcendence. (He called himself a non-practicing Orthodox Jew, which is a joke you may or may not get. Suffice to say, he had a fairly non-denominational view of concepts like the "soul.") At any rate, at this event, he'd explained that creativity took effort, not unlike disciplined religious practice, and that not everyone could do it by any stretch. This one guy said, "I don't know - I like to think I play a pretty creative game of tennis." In relating this story, Professor Hadas said, "See? He was so desperate for some connection to creativity that he grasped at straws."

He told me that story probably twenty-some years ago. Funny that it came back to me now.

I suppose it floated up in my head in response to me asking myself what I do to boost my own creativity. For the most part, being creative feels to me like getting out of my own way. When the writing feels best, it's like taking dictation from elsewhere. The things I love best in my books - and interestingly that readers point out as their favorites - are all elements that stream in unexpectedly from elsewhere. I think Professor Hadas would say that's connecting with the divine.

I'm only just realizing, in writing this, how much of my ideas about writing come from what he taught me.

At any rate, this is what I do if I'm feeling like the words aren't flowing:

1) Power Through

Because I feel like the words come elsewhere, very often I find that the act of writing allows the creativity to flow. So I keep typing away, pushing at the wall until I break through.

2) Take a Break

If I can't break through that wall, sometimes it means I need to take some time away. That might mean work on something else, it might mean doing some manual task like gardening, to let my brain recover.

3) Clear Away Noise

Probably because I got my ideas about creativity from Professor Hadas, I revert to concepts I learned from religious studies, about clearing the mind, meditation, and focus. Noise of any kind interferes with that - internet, TV, worries - anything that keeps the mind from being like a still pond. So I turn everything off. I might meditate, I might do some Tai Chi. Whatever it takes to eliminate the chatter.

4) Refill the Well

Enjoying someone else's art can stimulate my own enthusiasm again. I'm lucky to live in a beautiful place with tons of wonderful art. Sometimes I go look at the galleries, or just stare out at the view.

5) Have Fun

It's easy to get very serious about a story - especially during dark moments in the book itself - and forget the joy. But creating something should be joyful at its core. If I'm not having fun, I know it's time to take a step back and try steps 2-4.

Looking forward to more great tips on this from my sister and brother whores!

Of Hamsters, Pantsing and Becoming Creative

I still get a total thrill when people send me pics of my books on the shelves. Maybe one day I'll get over it, but not so far. Could be I'm getting tiresome about it because I showed my mom a pic on my phone that someone sent and said, "photos like this make me so happy!" And she said, "I know," in that *tone* people get, like when you've said something too many times.

But, hey. Look! Me and Guy Gavriel Kay!

Hee hee hee.

So, yeah, I might be also stalling a bit. Whenever I see topics like this week's - Spinning Plates and Weaving Subplots: How do you decide how to balance the main story and the connecting tales? - my brain goes a little fuzzy. In fact, as soon as I see anything in the realm of "how do you decide..." the invisible hamsters in my head start frantically scratching at the inside of my skull.

But I really don't want to write another post that's all an elaborate way of saying "I DECIDE NOTHING, PEOPLE. THE HAMSTERS DECIDE EVERYTHING AND I WRITE IT DOWN, OKAY???"

Instead I'll try to explain myself and why I have the process that I do. Besides the fact that I think every writer has her own process and that it's key for all of us to learn what our process is and own it. A lot of writers - both established and aspiring - spend a lot of time trying to alter their process. They want to write faster and better, which is admirable, so they try all kinds of things to make that happen. While I see people able to tweak and refine what they're doing, I rarely see anyone completely convert their process. Most of the time, I see writers completing the cycle with increased understanding and ownership of how they do what they do.

For my part, I've never really tried to change my process. Which means, when I tell people that I try to pre-plot, I'm kind of lying. I mean, I have tried - but I immediately give up, as it gives me that hamsters-scratching-at-the-inside-of-my-skull feeling.

I don't think I need to say it isn't a pleasant one.

Some writers whose methods are more like mine - the pantsers or the misters or the gardeners, or whatever analogy you prefer - say that it's more fun to discover the story as they write. I'm not sure I agree. It makes for angsty, difficult writing days, more often than not. There's a thrill when something falls into place, yes, but "fun" isn't really the right descriptor.

What it is, though, is fulfilling.

There's this whole debate about being happy versus living a rewarding life. I'm a big fan of pursuing happiness, but I'm also a believer in growth.

I often say that, if I wanted to get rich easily, I'd have become a stockbroker. Don't make that face - I'm good with numbers. It could have happened... But the whole reason I became a writer (which is kind of a long story) is because that was the answer when I asked myself what the most rewarding life would be for me. That's why I bailed on being a research scientist. When I committed to being a writer, I studied how other authors do it, particularly the ones I admire most. I wanted to know how they developed their creativity. I'd been so immersed in science that I felt like I didn't know how to be creative. I didn't so much ask the question writers hear so often - "where do you get your ideas?" - as I asked "HOW do you get your ideas?"

At the same time, I was studying Taoism. Really, I have been most of my life. I read the Tao Te Ching in high school and my honors thesis in college (for my other major, religious studies) compared the Tao Te Ching to a sermon by Meister Eckhart. But, when I made this huge choice to alter my career path and become a writer, I was with a kung fu school that emphasized spiritual and mental growth by channeling the subconscious. Taoism is a very individual philosophy, one that encourages this kind of focus on personal growth.

All of this is a long way of saying that I wanted to develop a writing process that channeled the subconscious.

THAT, more than anything else, is why I don't "decide" much about my stories. Instead I try to create a still space in myself, open a door and allow the story to come in. Some days it works better than others. Some days it doesn't work at all, which is agonizing. Other days the rush of being filled with a story from somewhere outside myself is an ecstasy unlike any other.

So, "fun" is really not the right word at all.

But rewarding? Yes, yes, yes.

Be still, little hamsters.

Dreaming Up Novels

I took this photo in Vieques, an island in the Caribbean, off Puerto Rico. It's an infinity-edge pool with the ocean beyond. I use it a lot on my desk top, etc., because it puts me in a good frame of mind - relaxed and peaceful, just as I'd be, sitting in that place.

State of mind is hugely important, I believe. Recently a (very successful) writer friend of mine asked me about my writing process. She's much more famous and sells FAR more books, but she envies the critical acclaim my books have received. (I told her to console herself with her millions of fans and piles of money, but she only laughed and persisted.) In truth, her process hasn't been working well for her, because she keeps getting slammed hard against her deadlines. Though she outlines *extensively* the last few books have gotten harder and harder to write. I suggested that she try writing the next book without an outline. Take a month and write for discovery like I do. She asked how I do that - how I hold the story in my head without an outline.

Which is hard to explain.

Except that it puts me in mind of this article on the virtues of daydreaming. I've saved this for a couple of years as a reminder to myself that daydreaming is good. It's one of any number of studies that show that daydreaming - idle mental time - promotes creativity. I need the reminder because my childhood programming, the corporate culture I work in and other influences, such as rigorous martial arts training I engaged in for over a decade, all told me that daydreaming is bad. I'm meant to be engaged in the conversation of the people around me, not staring off into space. I'm supposed to pay attention on those conference calls and in meetings. I should be alert and aware at all times, not dreaming of other things.

One thing that martial arts training gave me as a lasting lesson, however, is that cultivating mental quiet is good for more than being aware of my environment so I can anticipate attack. Mental quiet also allows me to hold the story in my head. In the right time and place, allowing myself to fall into a daydream state - or the DreamThink, I've called it in the past - lets me spin those stories.

Our question this week is whether we cultivate daydreaming to come up with our books and, if so, how we guide or direct that.

When I wake up in the middle of the night, I don't worry about it. I don't get up as the sleep specialists say to do. Instead I snuggle in and daydream about the book I'm writing. I do try to guide my DreamThink to whatever I'm working on, but I don't insist on it if another story edges in. I try to be peaceful about it and let my mind drift. If I start thinking about worries or daily cares and lists, that's no good, so I redirect myself back to the fantasy.

Sometimes I wake up early, an hour or so before the alarm, and that's terrific DreamThink time, as I can cook the story right before I get up and write. Sometimes I fall asleep and actually dream. Other times I drift in that perfect twilight state where I'm completely relaxed and cozy and my mind simply floats.

During the day I might daydream. I love gardening for this and other kinds of manual labor. Listening to audio books can induce this state. Something in the story I'm listening to might trigger me and I'll start dreaming about my own story. Then I have to back up, because I stopped listening.

In all of this, I think the key is not to censure myself. I'm a writer, so I pull that card now if someone accuses me of zoning out on the conversation. I just give a brilliant smile and say, sorry, started thinking about my book. This carries FAR more cachet than my childhood rep for dreaminess did. At work, I've realized everyone forgets to pay attention to every nuance of the meeting or call. Maybe it helps to be middle-management now, but I have no shame in asking someone to repeat the question. As for the martial demands that I be alert and aware... let's just say that I write books MUCH more often than I fight off attackers. And that there's a time and place for everything.

The final piece of being careful not to censure myself is to let the daydreaming flow as it wants to. This is a part of myself not bound by rules. When I write, when I edit, then I can impose structure and refinements. For the DreamThink, I give myself permission to go anywhere I like. To be awake or to sleep or be somewhere in between. To dream about what I'm working on or something else entirely. It's all part of the same stew and nothing is ever lost. It's like the primordial ocean, rich, full of life and endless productive.

What do you all think - do you use your daydreaming like this?

(OH! Also, I’ll be teaching a workshop that starts tomorrow, January 5. It’s for Outreach International Romance Writers on Sex as a Tool for Character Transformation. Non-members can register here up through the 5th. (As far as *I* am concerned, you can sign-up anytime, but OIRWA might not feel the same way…))

My Culinary Obsessions

So, last week I talked about how drawing maps and doing worldbuilding is my non-writing artistic outlet.  But, to a large degree, that's still about writing.
Of course, it's all about writing, even this one.
 Because my other artistic outlet is cooking.  I love to cook, and I'm strangely obsessive about doing things from scratch.  And to some degree, that comes from writing and worldbuilding.  I like to think about where food comes from, what it means to the people, and how disparate flavors can help define a culture.
And today I have a special project!  Today I'll be taking blackberries and a whole variety of nuts, seeds, spices and dried chiles and making a glorious molé de zarzamoras.  And, of course, beyond that, I intend to get some writing in.  But as you can imagine, this is a project that's going to take up a good chunk of my day.
But once it's done, oh, it'll be something quite special. 
And then I'll go down into the word mines.  See you in there.
One more thing: as I've updated my website, I've created an Appearances page listing where I'll be in 2015.  There's only a few listed for now, but that will probably increase as the year goes on.

Sometimes, I Just Have To Paint The Picture

What sort of creative outlet(s) do I have other than writing?

Before I answer that, I want to say THANK YOU to all the veterans out there, and to their families. 

Now, for my "other" creative outlet(s)....

I, uhm, have a thing for painting interior rooms. I'm not an artist; I don't do murals (yea though I desperately wish I could). I just happen to like transformations. Often there's a de-cluttering prerequisite in the room I tackle, followed by an organizing/storage solutions follow-up. For me, the total revamps are the best of the analytical meets the creative. There's a tangible end result in roughly two weeks time (three if I futz with the floors too). The physical purging helps with my mental purging.

Redoing a room totally resets my brain, and a two-week vacation from the WiP vastly improves my word-count once I return to writing.

Forcing Creativity into a Single Channel

I've been at World Fantasy Convention this weekend. That's us at dinner last night - my agent Connor Goldsmith of Fuse Literary, Jennifer Udden and Amy Boggs of Donald Mass Literary Agency, Rena Bunder Rossner Literary/Foreign Rights Agent at The Deborah Harris Agency and fellow writer Rick Lipman. It's been a whirl, of course, and really wonderful overall.

I also got to hang with current and former Word Whores - James Moore, Linda Robertson and Allison Pang.

But it's funny to contemplate at this moment, as I sit in the hotel lobby on Sunday morning, after being in the bar last night talking to people past 1:30 - and people are stopping by to chat and say goodbye - what else I do creatively besides write.

Because I'm pretty sure talking in the bar doesn't count.

Also, if I were at home, I would pull out my photograph album of various projects and scan them in to show you how I used to do things like make quilts. I made a king-sized wedding ring quilt in expanding shades of green. I also made a watercolor quilt and used to make custom baby quilts. That was just one kick among many hobbies, but quilting stands out in my mind because I very deliberately gave it up.

In order to write.

It seems like a silly thing, because obviously those activities aren't in direct opposition. Still, as I struggled to move myself into a creative habit of producing words regularly, I found that I'd practice various avoidance techniques by starting other projects. So I went cold turkey and put all of my quilting supplies away.

I can see that, one day, I'll sew again, just as I'll garden more and maybe get back into drawing and painting.

It was the right choice because it worked. As if I had to close off those other avenues to force my energy and creativity into the one path. Kind of like increasing the water pressure to clear and open those pipes.

But those are gorgeous quilts.

Creative Outlets That Aren't Writing

One can't just pound out words for eight hours a day, five days a week.  Well, maybe some people can, but I sure can't.  So what else do I do to chum the creative waters?
For me, and I know this is going to be a real shocker-- it's worldbuilding work, especially maps.
Now, I'm sure a lot of writers just build the world for the stories, or craft a world around a story idea.  Which is probably the smarter thing to do.  I mean, if you're doing all that worldbuilding work, it should be for a purpose, right?
  And for each of these, maybe there will be a purpose somewhere down the line.  But when I'm-- I don't want to say stuck or blocked, because I don't think that's accurate, but let's say conceptual brewing, and my brain needs to mull on where things are going or how to do a certain bit, then doing some map-drawing or other worldbuilding activity (like figuring out biomes and then connecting rise of agriculture to said biomes, and thus determining where those Fertile Centers of Origin are going to be that civilization arises in) or micromanaging a pair of linked villages for what sort of setting might be there.  Or the rise of multiple interstellar empires. 
This is probably the sort of thing that other sf/fantasy writers dread.   And I get that.  But for me, it's a lot of fun.  And dorky.  I will fully admit to compiling spreadsheets filled with just raw data of animal domestication or tech development of number of planets for hundreds of stars or regions or whatever else.  That gets the processing and analytical part of my brain in gear, and lets the writing brain churn and simmer, and then, hey... a thousand words show up. 
Plus, maps are fun.  I can't draw very well, but I can do maps.
That's all for now.  I'll be at OryCon this weekend, and if you're in the area, I hope to see you there.

The Deluge of Inspiriation & The Danger of Details

What sparks my creativity? From where do my ideas come? Do I research my concepts or just the details?

Questions, questions.

~drums fingers with glee~

Story concepts come to me often. Very, very often. More often than dog hair appears in my coffee.  They really like to come in groups, great whooping distractions during the writing of another story. I've no shortage of BIG ideas.  From whence do they come? Uh. Hmm. Bwwwwwains. Nummy bwwwains. Whatever the scientific or mystical source, I'm just grateful they keep coming.  Usually the concept slaps me with a vivid scene. A moment in the grander story. It's akin to a 30 second video clip. If I'm lucky, it might make it to a full  five minutes of quality daydreaming time. I then wrap a plot, characters, and settings around it. Sometimes, it's not the scene but the protagonist who will come to me. She'll rap on my forehead. Arch an expectant brow. Every detail of her is clear to me. Every scar, every thread, every stain, every strand of hair...even how she smells (which ain't always a pleasant aroma, I assure you). 

The details of the story, however, require effort...and research.

Like most authors, I can get easily lost in research. Use the right resources and the research is more than enlightening; it's fun and hella distracting. Therein lies the danger of research. The hours, days, and months lost in the weeds of research when all we needed was one pine tree. Sure verifying credible sources is a good idea, but that too can send one on the wrong trail. Try to resist. I use a three-source rule if I need accurate data. I stop verifying after I find three (preferably diverse) places with the same info. And I don't limit my searches to The Wiki no matter how convenient it is.  I've a story about stone movers. I had to research assorted types of rocks (a geologist I am not). Jewelers' sale pages and FAQs turned out to be the most helpful. Web searches are great for that sort of thing.

All hail the Google-Fu. 

However, if I need to "feel" an environment, then I read, I watch TV, view paintings & sculptures, listen to music...there's no limit to the sources I'll use. I drench myself in a specifically crafted environment. Example: I've a WiP in which a third of the story takes place on galleons and in shipyards. There's a whole lotta jargon and physical detail that I had to research before I applied the filter of what I used versus what I just needed to know for framing references. There are countless shows, films, books, librettos, etc., on the topic. My favorite go-to for writing those scenes was my father's fifty year old album (yes, vinyl plate) of sea chanties. It continues to be well loved. I continue to need a bar of Ivory Soap for singing along.  ~ehem~

Ideas for stories aren't hard to come by, thankfully. However, the danger of the details isn't in the sources, but in the time-suck.

On the Perils of Creativity

I am crisped.

In the slang sense of the word. As in fried, cooked through, no juice left.

And not from a sunburn either. Yesterday, I spent the day in the sun, reading. I didn't work at all.

At ALL.

Which is noteworthy, because I'm not sure when the last day came about that I didn't work on a draft or edits or a blog post or household chores or work on one of my volunteer activities. I didn't go anywhere. I sat and read. Not for contest judging, either.

Just for fun.

On Friday morning - right on schedule, I'm proud to say - I finished the draft of Rogue's Paradise. And, you guys, I know this is bragging, but I think it's oh, so yummy. Finishing a book always takes so much out of me, in ways I don't quite understand. I know I've written about it before, but it's like putting the seal on the story somehow carves a chunk out of me on some metaphysical plane.

The scientist in me gets all irritated when I try to describe it.

The creative part knows it's true.

Last night, we watched a segment from 60 Minutes that Stepdad Dave recorded. They replayed a 2008 interview with Phillip Seymour Hoffman, as part of a reflection on his recent and tragic death. The interviewers gave him a little shit about how he was dressed - scruffy - and the interview circumstances - 8 am on the deserted NYU campus - and he responded with that self-effacing, yet wry intelligence that seemed so characteristic of him.

At one point the interviewer quoted one of Hoffman's friends who said something along of the lines of that Hoffman always works himself into a frenzy of self-doubt and obsessiveness, trying to make ever role perfect.

Hoffman looked away, abashed, said, "He talks too much." Then he looked back at the interviewer and said, "You always worry, that this role will be the one to end your career."

Oh yes.

I hear other writers say that all the time, so it must go with the territory. We all live with the plaguing fear that we won't be able to do it again. That this book will fail, that we won't be able to finish it, that it will be so flawed that it will be universally reviled - and us along with it.

After all - it happens, right?

So, it's a bizarre kind of comfort to hear someone else give voice to that. To share that pain of being creative for a living. Which is something I rarely do - share in that community.

Which made me think about why. I came up with a few thoughts on this:

1) I really hesitate to identify as a creative person. This strikes even me as odd, because I don’t hesitate to identify as a scientist or writer or many other designations. The concept of creativity, however, seems special and magical – and I feel uppity laying claim to it. Arrogant, even, as if I'm pretending to be more special than I am.

2) At the same time, hearing creative people talk of their struggles or reading studies of how creative people behave, hits home with me in this profoundly visceral way. It's good for me to know that being creative is such a huge part of my life now and drives much of my behavior and energy cycles. 

3) There’s a kind of desperation that arises from making one's living via a creative act. Maybe it arises from the certain knowledge that the art is not ours to control. It’s a gift that comes from elsewhere. We can create the rituals and habits to facilitate the flow – but ultimately, the art is beyond us. In this way, we are forever on the edge, at the mercy of a greater power.

4) I think sometimes of Geoffrey Rush’s performance in Shine, and how the musician ultimately lost his mind trying to play that one Rachmaninoff piece. When I’m finishing a book, I am stressed and I do feeling like I’m losing my mind. And the people who love me become concerned and remind me to care for my health. Which I try to pay attention to. At the same time, I’m looking at this chunk of my heart I’ve torn out and painted into a story and wonder how anyone thinks I can do what I do without this gradual cannibalization of myself as a human being.

The scientist is rolling her eyes at that last one. 

And this is something of a vomit of ideas. I should massage it more, but I'm not going to. I thought about holding off and writing something else today, until this gelled more - but when I saw "crisp" was the word of the week, this was what I thought about. 

So, here's my mess of thoughts. Now I'm going to go have brunch in the sun and maybe have a mimosa.

You all have a lovely Sunday!

Capturing Creativity

Creativity is a lovely, elusive creature that likes to be wooed. Not with chocolates or with expensive bottles of wine. It wants time and attention. Nothing more, nothing less.

How much time? How much ya got? Attention? ALL OF IT.

The monkey on my back prefers a daily word count goal - well - the five days a week I commit to give to the care and feeding of writing. Some weeks, it's seven days, others, it's six, but I move heaven and earth to make sure that at least five days a week find my butt parked on a bench at a local tea shop pouring out English Breakfast and 2k words.

Creativity swoons for ritual. It doesn't have to be chanting in dead languages or wearing funky robes, though those things would certainly work if you're into that kind of thing. Not that I can say much about the robes, since Wiccans have more than their fair share, generally speaking.

In my case, ritual is all about getting the blood moving. The creativity summoning begins when I pack up my bicycle bags, layer up the Goretex, and hop on the 12 speed (yes, I do still live in the stone age, be quiet) and ride into town to the tea shop. Bonus points to me if I can arrive before the shop opens. The bike ride shuts down the hypercritical portions of my brain. The ride leaves me more awake and alive. Once the shop opens, I unpack the netbook and the MP3 player. Order tea. Plug in the headphones to pipe creepy music directly into my brain, boot up the netbook, and start typing.

It's slow going at first. Words and ideas come hard. The first hour is frustrating. But then I realize two hours are gone and look, I've blown past my halfway point and I'm going faster. The scenes are coming together and the ideas are flowing. And the funny thing? Even when I stop for the day and ride home, creativity sticks around. The ideas keep showing up, as if my characters and their world are reluctant to let me go. I jot down bunches of notes for the next day's word count.

Success begets success. It's not a surprise that research shows that the more you succeed, the more you succeed, therefore, set goals you can achieve more often than you fail, and you increase your chances of achieving those goals over the long term. The same can be said of creativity. Show up. Sit down. Focus. Do the writing, even if it sucks (or you just think it does). Repeat. Keep repeating. And one day, you'll look up and that lovely, elusive creativity critter will be sitting across from you, winking at you.