I have gone into deep depression a number of times during this period from January 20th till now and only recently hauled myself out of it because the world needs people like me to go on and pay attention to what is happening and to respond to it.
It isn't just what is happening in our country either, though that is awful enough, but globally.
I have not been able to articulate what I am feeling, am still not able to write directly about the horrors I see, but I am writing again, and it is meeting with some success. I'm still not able to immerse myself in fictional worlds the way I have always done, can't focus for long periods of time, can't bear to watch the news much. But I am going on, and I am here for the long haul.
I loved this. You described the emotional field of a writer's life. You have those inspirational times where you write and write and then, you seem to be done for a while. But revision is very creative and it's a step you need to take. Also, in case you haven't noticed: you wrote something new. You wrote this essay!!!! Congratulations!!!!
Salty heart--yes! Language is always the answer for me and I appreciate your supportive post. I find this particularly during my falling asleep moments. I can consider the latest of many atrocities in the news or I can consider the best order for two particular paragraphs of a story I'm writing. And the winner is...
I have been in the same place. I’ve focused on writing good editing suggestions on Medium. Persuasive sentences require skill. I’ve been reading new authors and taking note of those write multiple POVs successfully.
Elizabeth, you bring to the forefront such an important aspect of our creative lives during this incredibly disturbing, almost unbelievable time we're in—and yet as you and I'm sure others here will share, these "non-creative" (I call them "non-new writing") times occur on and off. You've given names and processes to what I believe are integral aspects of our creative lives that validate something I guess I've been doing for many years, and I love how you've categorized and named these! My one slight difference is that I DO consider ALL of these activities integrate to creativity and creative lives—they are all creative, albeit in ways different from the writing of new work. This is why I have never believed in "writer's block". Non-new work times come for reasons that involve our brains, organs that for some reason internal or external, need a break from what we think we want to be doing. Every time I trust that, I turn to another aspect of my work (as you've mentioned, re-visioning older work, and in my case, experimenting with new poetic forms for already-written poems, and submitting, submitting, submitting—as well as doing other forms of creative work: drawing (I can't draw), painting (I can't paint), paper tear designs (they always look cute, so it doesn't matter that I don't know what I'm doing)...and then there are walks that always open the brain to the earth around me.
Thank you again for putting the pain, confusion, despair and more of our current situation "out there" for us to feel validated and sane in our creative lives.
Hi Carol. Yes, I agree that all these things - particularly thinking about them - are also vital parts of the creative life. I've always thought of it as re-filling the gas tank. Thanks for reading and commenting.
It's an interesting way of getting through the "meh" times, and useful too! Back to the basics, the fine watchmaking instead of the steam roller. When I run dry (or into a wall with a piece), I switch gears. Writing a guest post, an essay, a review... anything BUT fiction. Eventually, the urge comes back.
Great post! All writers experience these mountains and valleys. Our creativity is like living water, sometimes raging with white waves, sometimes meandering toward a quiet bay, and sometimes stagnant like a still pond. When I’m not writing, I’m always creating art in some form, even if it’s just painting a room or planting in my garden. As a child of God, I see myself as a cracked vessel dependent on the Creator to fill me with good things that seep through the cracks. When the vessel is empty, I listen to beautiful music, admire the art of others, spend time with God in nature— all provided by a loving God.
Hi Tracie. I love the idea of creativity as living water. And the understanding of your creative self as a vessel is wonderful. More prosaically, I've always thought of it as a gas tank which periodically needs re-filling. Thanks for reading and commenting.
This is exactly what I do when I’m not creating: meticulously edit, read and research. I am not a writer that can create on demand - either I’m in a flow state or I’m not. And when I’m not I can’t force it. I felt I could never do a writers retreat, or an extended course or even an MFA because of this! Really wondering how many others experience this? I’ve passed on so many opportunities because I just can’t produce this way. For me it really is about being “tapped in,” which happens randomly and unpredictably. Would love to know from others in this boat how you foster your practice when you’re not someone that can write on command.
This resonates with me. I have had the experience of getting to a residency and "drawing a blank" and being unable to fill the time with the project I'm meant to do. Whether this has to be with rebelling against "being told what to do" or not, I've no idea. I've learned to go easy on myself about those sorts of expectations and to re-frame any creative endeavor - even reading - as more fuel for the tank: It may not get used during the residency, but it might later. Several of the locations of residencies have ended up being settings for later stories, or as fodder for the musings in one.
What a fascinating essay about coping in stranger-than-fiction times! I've taken the opposite approach to keep working by 'rage-journaling' since November. Zero attention to word-choice or even coherence. Can't say I've created any master pieces, but letting it all out has made me feel better and established an (albeit super personal) record of trying times.
I have gone into deep depression a number of times during this period from January 20th till now and only recently hauled myself out of it because the world needs people like me to go on and pay attention to what is happening and to respond to it.
It isn't just what is happening in our country either, though that is awful enough, but globally.
I have not been able to articulate what I am feeling, am still not able to write directly about the horrors I see, but I am writing again, and it is meeting with some success. I'm still not able to immerse myself in fictional worlds the way I have always done, can't focus for long periods of time, can't bear to watch the news much. But I am going on, and I am here for the long haul.
I loved this. You described the emotional field of a writer's life. You have those inspirational times where you write and write and then, you seem to be done for a while. But revision is very creative and it's a step you need to take. Also, in case you haven't noticed: you wrote something new. You wrote this essay!!!! Congratulations!!!!
I enjoy listening to Passager when I iron. The poems are short and follow a theme. It's quite nourishing. Thanks for the lit mag tips in general.
Salty heart--yes! Language is always the answer for me and I appreciate your supportive post. I find this particularly during my falling asleep moments. I can consider the latest of many atrocities in the news or I can consider the best order for two particular paragraphs of a story I'm writing. And the winner is...
I have been in the same place. I’ve focused on writing good editing suggestions on Medium. Persuasive sentences require skill. I’ve been reading new authors and taking note of those write multiple POVs successfully.
Elizabeth, you bring to the forefront such an important aspect of our creative lives during this incredibly disturbing, almost unbelievable time we're in—and yet as you and I'm sure others here will share, these "non-creative" (I call them "non-new writing") times occur on and off. You've given names and processes to what I believe are integral aspects of our creative lives that validate something I guess I've been doing for many years, and I love how you've categorized and named these! My one slight difference is that I DO consider ALL of these activities integrate to creativity and creative lives—they are all creative, albeit in ways different from the writing of new work. This is why I have never believed in "writer's block". Non-new work times come for reasons that involve our brains, organs that for some reason internal or external, need a break from what we think we want to be doing. Every time I trust that, I turn to another aspect of my work (as you've mentioned, re-visioning older work, and in my case, experimenting with new poetic forms for already-written poems, and submitting, submitting, submitting—as well as doing other forms of creative work: drawing (I can't draw), painting (I can't paint), paper tear designs (they always look cute, so it doesn't matter that I don't know what I'm doing)...and then there are walks that always open the brain to the earth around me.
Thank you again for putting the pain, confusion, despair and more of our current situation "out there" for us to feel validated and sane in our creative lives.
Hi Carol. Yes, I agree that all these things - particularly thinking about them - are also vital parts of the creative life. I've always thought of it as re-filling the gas tank. Thanks for reading and commenting.
It's an interesting way of getting through the "meh" times, and useful too! Back to the basics, the fine watchmaking instead of the steam roller. When I run dry (or into a wall with a piece), I switch gears. Writing a guest post, an essay, a review... anything BUT fiction. Eventually, the urge comes back.
That's been my experience, too, M.E. Thanks for reading and commenting.
Great post! All writers experience these mountains and valleys. Our creativity is like living water, sometimes raging with white waves, sometimes meandering toward a quiet bay, and sometimes stagnant like a still pond. When I’m not writing, I’m always creating art in some form, even if it’s just painting a room or planting in my garden. As a child of God, I see myself as a cracked vessel dependent on the Creator to fill me with good things that seep through the cracks. When the vessel is empty, I listen to beautiful music, admire the art of others, spend time with God in nature— all provided by a loving God.
Hi Tracie. I love the idea of creativity as living water. And the understanding of your creative self as a vessel is wonderful. More prosaically, I've always thought of it as a gas tank which periodically needs re-filling. Thanks for reading and commenting.
This is exactly what I do when I’m not creating: meticulously edit, read and research. I am not a writer that can create on demand - either I’m in a flow state or I’m not. And when I’m not I can’t force it. I felt I could never do a writers retreat, or an extended course or even an MFA because of this! Really wondering how many others experience this? I’ve passed on so many opportunities because I just can’t produce this way. For me it really is about being “tapped in,” which happens randomly and unpredictably. Would love to know from others in this boat how you foster your practice when you’re not someone that can write on command.
This resonates with me. I have had the experience of getting to a residency and "drawing a blank" and being unable to fill the time with the project I'm meant to do. Whether this has to be with rebelling against "being told what to do" or not, I've no idea. I've learned to go easy on myself about those sorts of expectations and to re-frame any creative endeavor - even reading - as more fuel for the tank: It may not get used during the residency, but it might later. Several of the locations of residencies have ended up being settings for later stories, or as fodder for the musings in one.
Brill! Loved this. Creativity is not only the struggle but the playful indulgence in our imagination. When it becomes a drag, stop. Rethink. Play.
I love this motto: Stop. Rethink. Play. Thanks for reading and commenting.
What a fascinating essay about coping in stranger-than-fiction times! I've taken the opposite approach to keep working by 'rage-journaling' since November. Zero attention to word-choice or even coherence. Can't say I've created any master pieces, but letting it all out has made me feel better and established an (albeit super personal) record of trying times.
I bet it will become fodder for work as you get more distance from the immediate rage. Thanks for reading and commenting.