Lean in, kiddos.
I am about to impart to you the wisdom of the ages.
The super-secret, hush-hush, “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you” secret of how I do my best creative work.
Ready?
It’s called “starting.”
Seriously. I’d love to tell you I have a particular setting, or time of day, or list of conditions that create the ideal incubator for amazing creative work.
But I don’t. The recipe is.. there is no recipe. This isn’t science. It’s more like alchemy. There are ingredients. Usually those ingredients have certain effects. When you put them all together and apply heat…”results may vary,” to borrow a phrase from our friends in the pharmaceutical trade.
Okay, I lured you in here with promises, didn’t I? I can’t just tease you with the wisdom of the ages and leave you with a fortune cookie, can I? Of course I can’t.
Here are a few things from my Creative Grimoire that usually, typically, work well. If the conditions are right.
- Good paper, and a good quality gel pen. Like Tucker Foley, I am a technogeek. But my best ideas and my best creative work, at least in the ideation phase, don’t usually originate in a digital format.
- Bluegrass music. I know. You aren’t from Kentucky. You don’t refer to wrestling as rasslin’. But I’m telling you–bluegrass music is awesome creative background noise. The tempo is fast and energetic. The lyrics are usually so blurred by twang that they aren’t distracting. I will admit–I don’t really like bluegrass all that much just to listen to it, but I’ve found that some of my best, most soulful and real creative work was produced under the influence of a banjo. Make of that what you will.
- Fresh air/outdoor activity. I don’t paint en plein air, although I’d like to try it. I don’t pretend I can draft prose longhand while jogging. And attempting a fiber art project while rock climbing or kayaking? Probably not a great idea. But when I am fresh out of sweet inspiration, and my head feels as empty as a peanut shell on the floor of Texas Roadhouse? Movement and physical, particularly out in nature, gets the ideas stirring and bubbling again.
- A nice glass of wine or cocktail. Yes, I know. I have a history of working for wine and spirits companies. And I know the whole stereotype of the tragic artist consumed by alcoholism (see: Hemingway). And I’m not saying it’s a good idea to do it frequently. I’m just saying that in addition to the figurative sense that Mark illuminated beautifully in that linked post, literally having a cocktail, relaxing and quieting your inner critic on occasion has resulted in some pretty stellar (but still in need of editing!) work for me.
And while we’re on the subject, I should mention that I don’t think it’s a good idea to make any creative stimulus into a requirement. Kayaking is certainly healthier than a manhattan, but I don’t think you should schedule a river run before every creative project, either.
That’s the danger of these kinds of lists. They do become a grimoire, a list of “magical” objects or conditions that you believe you need in order to unlock your creative potential.
Which can cripple you when you need to produce, and can’t get your recommended daily allowance of bluegrass because your coworker has threatened to brain you with a banjo if he hears any more Bill Monroe wafting from your office.
Ultimately, it comes back around to what I said in the beginning. The key to doing great creative work is starting. Getting past your perfectionism and your procrastination and all the other distractions and just … starting.
Because starting leads to output. Output leads to better output. Eventually, enough starting and finishing, output and effort, lead to great work.
See? I told you. Wisdom of the ages, here.
Image by myadlan
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