When I was younger, like twelve to fourteen, I loved to write poetry. The rhyme schemes gave me just enough limitations to let my dark, flowery creativity run wild. I had a constant stream of inspiration.
But, as I got a little older, other interests like dance, my after-school job at an independent movie theatre, and friends took priority and I wasn’t writing much poetry anymore.
Then, I started dating.
The woes of dating mixed with surges of hormonal angst re-sparked creative inspiration and my desire to write poetry.
However, over time I convinced myself that I could only write poetry when I was in conflict, heartbroken, or otherwise distressed about a relationship. Sometimes, I would even joke that I enjoyed these conflicts because it gave me the inspiration I needed to write more poetry.
Then, I became an adult. I didn’t have the angsty hormone surges and crazy relationships that used to fuel my emotionally drenched stanzas. I missed writing poetry, but I just didn’t “feel inspired.”
One day, a friend and I began texting what we called “shitty poetry” back and forth. No crazy relationship pitfalls necessary. It didn’t have to be good or “inspired.”
These were just a couple lines of crappy, often humorous, rhymes that could be about anything from a scene witnessed on the street to a melancholic, rainy day. Within a week, we still called it “shitty poetry” but it started becoming decent poetry – sometimes even good poetry.
Around this time, I began writing short stories but, after I finished one, I would feel too uninspired to start a new one. One day, I took a random cliché – the grass is always greener – and created a short poem out of the phrase as an exercise to get the creative juices flowing before diving into a short story.
It worked!
Not only did it get me in the right creative space to be ready to work on new projects, I also felt wholly inspired by the exercise itself and began writing more of what I now call “Cliché Poems.”
Some of these poems became some of my favorite poems I’ve ever written. I have over thirty of them now and still hope to do something with them someday. (Any illustrators or cartoonists want to collaborate?)
Why You Can’t Wait
All this to say, when the raging hormones and exaggerated heartbreak goes away, us adults can’t rely on inspiration to dictate when we work/create.
The belief that inspiration is what ignites creative pursuits was my biggest barrier to growing as an artist in my early-to-mid-twenties. When I was “uninspired” I felt depressed, restless, on-edge, and – frankly – unworthy.
I wasn’t engaged with the activities that were most fulfilling to me. The activities that gave me purpose.
Sometimes I coped with the feeling of unworthiness with self-sabotaging behaviors. It’s a common trope that artists are depressed, emotionally reckless individuals and I hypothesize that this belief that artistry requires inspiration is part of this shared, torturous experience.
Not only is inspiration unreliable, it’s also impractical.
As adults we have jobs, responsibilities, and obligations that don’t allow us to stop everything we’re doing when inspiration strikes. Our time is limited, and we need to spend the time available to us creating rather than beating ourselves up over not feeling “inspired.”
Plus, if you’re a working artist, you have deadlines that aren’t going to wait for your inspiration.
What to Do Instead
Today, I no longer struggle with creativity (I struggle with burn-out, but that’s for another post). Here are three things I have learned over the years to ensure the creative juices never stop flowing.
Value Consistency Over Perfection
The one artistic pursuit that has given me the most consistency has been dance and I think artists in other mediums could learn a lot from the persistent dedication of dancers.
Going to school for dance, having regular rehearsals, and having show deadlines forced me to show up even when I didn’t “feel like it.” Performances can’t be put off because I don’t feel inspired (or because I’m bloated, or any other reason). “The show must go on” is a wonderful adage all artists can internalize and use to their benefit.
The physical demands of dance require dancers to continually home their craft. Even after they’ve reached the height of their careers, professional dancers still take class regularly. The learning never stops. It’s like training for football season all year-round.
When us dancers take an extended break, we can feel it in our bodies. There is catch-up work to do. Our art relies on consistent maintenance/practice.
Many writers talk about the importance of consistency. I’ve often heard that “amateurs write when they’re inspired, and professionals write like it’s their job” (even before they start getting published or paid). Stephen King for instance, one of the most prolific authors alive today, writes a minimum of six pages per day when working on a project.
Even if he feels uninspired.
Even if the pages suck and won’t be used in the finished book.
So, the first thing to do – instead of waiting for inspiration to strike – is to be consistent.
Whether it’s same time every day, same day every week, or whatever works in your life. Maintain a level of consistency with your practice.
Ritualizing the practice can help. Maybe it’s setting up the space, putting on certain music, or drinking a specific kind of tea (or wine). Many artists talk about training their brain to activate their creativity due to rituals that cue their brain into thinking “it’s time to create.”
Tap into the Love of Doing
Here lies another painful aspect of the tortured artist trope: that the act of creating art itself is torturous.
Some artists talk about creating art as if they are possessed to do so against their will. As if it’s a burden. This is another limiting belief that can weigh down on our creativity as artists.
To be fair, this thought sometimes springs from burnout and what we truly need is a break.
Other times, it’s a sign that we’re not working on projects that truly matter to us, or we’re feeling external pressure to create in certain ways that don’t align with our artistic values and desires. Often, we’ve simply lost touch with what we love about making art.
With age, I’ve felt increasingly in touch with what drives me to create. What about it I love. What most fills me up from the act of creation.
Take another cue from the dancers here. Even after dancers’ professional careers are over, many continue to take class – just for the love of dance. The love of doing.
To get back in touch with the love of doing, put some time aside – either right before a creation session, or as soon as possible to get you excited about creating again – to jot down the reasons you love to make the art that you create.
The reasons might change day-to-day, month-to-month, year-to-year, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is the fuel you’re giving your creative self by finding clarity around why you do what it is that you do.
Writing not your thing? Do this exercise in the medium of your choice. Draw or paint a picture about why you love to draw/pain. Create a dance about why you love to dance. Make a short, zero-budget film about why you love film.
If you create something about why you love to create, whether in your journal or as a project unto itself, you’ll have something you can always revisit when you’re struggling to feel the love for your art that you know you hold within you.
Give Yourself Limitations
As artists, we tend to hate the thought of limitations. We want to be free, damn it! But, projects with limitations are often breeding grounds for creativity.
Sometimes, this is simply a time limit. For instance:
After nearly six months of writing and rewriting the first three chapters of my novel, I finally signed up for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and committed to writing 50,000 words in one month.
This simple – however arbitrary – goal was the push I needed to finally finish my rough draft. I’m considering doing it again this coming November (once I finish all my rewrites) to do a month-long editing session with a tight deadline.
- If you’d like to join me for NaNoWriMo, comment below and maybe I’ll set up a support group where we can all do it together!
One of my favorite projects I’ve been involved in is the 48 Hour Film Project (specifically the horror version). The 48 Hour Film Project is a forty-eight-hour competition (time limit).
Within this time limit, we had to do everything from write the script to rendering the final edit and physically hand it in by 7:00pm sharp.
In just forty-eight hours we:
- Wrote the script
- Casted the film
- Locked down the location
- Gathered necessary props and costumes
- Filmed the seven-minute short
- Edited it
- Created main title and credit sequences
- Added special effects
- Sent it off for original composition
- Got back the finished product and drove it to the drop-off location
But it isn’t just the time limit that makes this challenge so creatively invigorating. It also has certain specifications that must be included in the finished film.
When I wrote and directed The Asylum for the 48 Hour Horror Film Project in Seattle, we pulled our genre out of a hat (we got ghost/asylum and could choose one we preferred of the two). Then, we were given these specifications that every team was required to include in their films:
- Must have a character say, “That’s too spicy for me.”
- Must have a nurse character named “Miss (or Mr.) Bridgeport”
- Must use a clothing pin at some point through the story
These limitations forced us to think outside the box and led us to create what is still my favorite short I’ve made to this day. After I put it up on Film Freeway, I was approached by a distributor which is why it’s on Amazon Prime, has been aired on cable TV, and might soon be part of a DVD compilation of horror shorts!
I believe that giving myself limitations in my cliché poetry exercise is what’s made it a lasting, constant project that I continue to add to – and has produced some of my favorite poems.
I encourage you to give yourself limitations or sign up for a challenge like NaNoWriMo or the 48 Hour Film Project.
Need a little accountability? Commit to posting a drawing, animation, melody, or movement phrase on social media every day for a given month. Or, get together a group of friends and create your own challenge. Give yourself a theme or some other confines in which to work.
In fact, part of this blog’s purpose and value for me is to force myself to write weekly, as I’ve committed to publishing a post every Thursday at 10 am PST on the topic of creation and am held accountable by the artists I’ve promised to feature as well as my readers – like you! (See what I did there?)
I promise, the hustle to create without much time to overthink will boost your creativity ten-fold by the end of the challenge.
Your Artful Effort
Whether signing up for an existing challenge, rallying a group of collaborators, or doing it on your own, challenge yourself with a deadline and creative limitations. Or, challenge yourself to do my checklist of 31 ways to get inspired in one month by downloading the PDF here.
