My first short story is steeply discounted until July 29th. Grab it here while you can!
Also, I have recently published a new short story on Amazon. Check it out here!
When a creative project is going well
You may also read this article on Medium, if you wish.
We have all experienced this. A project is “firing on all cylinders.” The “neighborhood cat” (our inspiration – our “muse,” if you’ll pardon the pun) has not only come to you, but is now spending every waking minute with you. You need scarcely bait him anymore, as he comes of his own accord and nearly never leaves. He wakes you up during the night demanding attention (you hear an idea in your mind and simply must write it down). Many creatives find this part of the process annoying, just as we might find such a creature annoying (though adorable). How does one manage this aspect of the process?
By embracing it. It is unpredictable. Sometimes, inspiration does happen while we are writing. This is wonderful. For me, however, it seems to appear mostly when I am not working. I will write during the day, often “beating myself against the wall” and making little progress, only for the idea I seek to fall into my lap right before I fall asleep that evening. Like a cat, inspiration cannot be truly controlled. It can only be embraced.
I am grateful to have married someone who understands this (my wife is an artist). She does not need to ask, “Why are you waking up again? That’s the third time tonight!” She knows exactly why and simply smiles to herself when it happens. This is also, perhaps, why creatives are considered strange (I must, of course, address such a scandalous rumor: it is completely, utterly, and absolutely…true). Our muse may come to us at the most inopportune times. I will be having a conversation with someone, and will suddenly need to leave the room for a moment. Why? To write down a melody that has begun to play in my mind. Sometimes, I will even start conducting. I simply cannot help it. My wife and I will be taking a walk, and she will be speaking to me. After a few moments, she tells me, “You’re far away.” She is right; I have just paid an unintended visit to my inner world. After all, a cat that visits you demands attention, and is woefully ignorant of the word “no.”
What happens if one refuses his muse? Simple: if one does this enough times, the muse will stop visiting. The cat will conclude that it does not receive any treats, and will look elsewhere. The only way to guarantee that he spends time with you is to consistently have a treat ready. (This is one of the main reasons to have a creative routine: one cannot wait for the cat to arrive. He must continue to display the treats and remain present when the cat arrives.)
Conversely, what happens if one continues to indulge his muse, even after a period of inactivity? The muse never leaves. He continues to demand more treats, more time, and more attention. This can result in lost sleep, forgetfulness, and all manner of other odd “symptoms.” In fact, if one is not careful, this can have a most negative effect on relationships and personal safety (I do not advocate allowing the process to endanger these things, of course – one must be reasonable).
Do these aspects of the process make it worth it? In my mind, absolutely. There is simply no “rush” comparable to that of hearing one’s musical compositions performed well, to an enthusiastic audience response. There are few greater joys than learning of a reader’s delight in a story I have written. Yet ultimately, I do not feel that I can take credit for this. It is not the product of my own labor, but that of my muse. The muse brought the ideas to me; I merely transcribed them and cleaned them up.
And his muse, in the end, is what a composer must trust.
Advice to Myself
You may also read this article on Medium, if you wish.
I have been writing a piece of music for some time that has brought no small amount of frustration. The creative process has fought me at every turn, each note being a battle within a seemingly never-ending creative war. This has happened before, and it will likely happen again. In fact, many creators seem to struggle with this at one time or another. Realizing this, I stepped back and asked, “If one of my students encountered this struggle, what advice would I give them?” So, this brief article consists of “advice to myself,” and I write it in the hope that it will help me and anyone else who encounters this fiendish bout of anti-creativity.
- When you write, do not write immediately. Begin imagining, thinking and getting into character. Let the music or the prose flow from these things.
- When you struggle to make the notes appear, stop making them and allow them to flow on their own. The best creativity is not forced by another; it flows of its own accord.
- Do not compose; transcribe. Transcribe what? The music that is already in your mind. You need not invent it; it builds itself. The problem is not a lack of ideas, but an excess of judgment regarding those ideas. Write them down and explore them.
- Do not control the process; trust it.
- Creativity is a process of discovery. Remember the archaeologist; he does not create a new piece of pottery, but simply digs it up and assembles it, one piece at a time.
- Explore each idea without judging it. Ask, “What if I invert these three notes? What if I speed up this rhythm? What happens if I introduce this theme near the middle of the piece, rather than at the beginning?” The question, “What if?” is the key to creativity.
- You will probably come up with garbage at first. Keep digging in the dirt. Eventually, something interesting will turn up.
- The creative process handsomely rewards patience; a good idea is worth the waiting and the effort. It is better to spend several months creating a good main theme (which will enable you to finish the piece within two more weeks), than it is to spend three months slogging through an entire piece with a weak main theme, only to throw it away out of frustration.
- When process fights me, it is usually because the main theme I have chosen is not very good. By this, I mean that the theme is inflexible; I am unable to do much with it. My composition teacher said, “If you get a good idea, you’ll know it because you’ll smile. Your brain will go, ‘I can write it this way, or that way, or develop it in another way.’” The best ideas offer numerous possibilities. One might even say that the best ideas are, in and of themselves, worlds to be explored. If I do not have a good melody, the creative process becomes a battle. If I have a good melody, the piece “writes itself.”
- Be willing to throw away a bad project. I have done this many times, and I have even done so with this particular project. Usually, the process works something like this:
- I spend several months on a project, frustrated at my lack of progress.
- I conclude that the project isn’t working, and I throw it away.
- I begin the project again with a newer, better idea.
- I complete the project within a matter of weeks, amazed that it has worked so well.
- This requires me to trust that the process will, ultimately, work out.
- Give the current project a break and focus on a different one. Write a simple piece that can be finished in a short amount of time; this will boost your confidence and remind you that you can still do this.
- Go outside for a walk. This can encourage more good ideas to visit you.
- Read, watch, or listen to something inspiring or energizing.
- Read about other creatives who have encountered this battle. It is more common than many might think!
- Watch bloopers. It reminds you that even professionals can make mistakes and recover.
- Show some of your ideas to friends or relatives. Your ideas may be better than you realize; I have heard it said, “Composers don’t always know what they’ve written.”
- Approach the process with a childlike curiosity and joy.
- Ask, “What is the central idea that I wish to convey with this work?” Focus on this.
- Do not criticize your work while you are exploring. My trumpet teacher would say, “Do not criticize when you create.” This is akin to criticizing the sand while one digs, or criticizing the small pieces of pottery before knowing how they fit together. It is often worth it to give each idea a chance.
- Good ideas are often simple.
There is certainly more advice to be had. I am sure I will find myself in need of it!
For Discussion
- What is some of the most valuable creative advice you have received?
- Have you ever felt as though the creative process fought you? How did you solve it?
- Have you ever discarded a project? Were you able to create a better one afterward?
Why do I get so many ideas right before I fall asleep?
If you wish, you may also read this article on Medium.
Why, indeed, does my mind suddenly awake when the rest of me should be falling asleep? I have a theory. Most of the day, the part of my brain that deals with logic, following established procedures, and critique, is awake. It is quite useful, as it allows me to recall the proper way to do household chores, the correct way to spell a word, and the practical range of a given instrument so that I write music that is actually playable. However, creativity is often a challenge during this part of the day. It can take real effort to cause it to awaken, and sometimes this does not even work. Why is this so?
One may recall the analogy from a previous article, about the traffic cop and the archaeologist. To expand upon this analogy: our minds are like cities. During the day, there is traffic everywhere. Cars move to their usual destinations, buses follow their predetermined routes, and cyclists move about their daily exercise routines. The traffic cop is quite at home in this environment; he knows the rules by which everything should operate, and directs the activity accordingly.
At night, however, there is little traffic. Because there is so little traffic, there is little need for anyone to direct it. This creates plenty of space for the safe movement of other vehicles or people. It is, therefore, the perfect environment for the archaeologist. It is the perfect environment for discovery. It is the perfect environment for experimentation with previously unexplored directions. One can drive on the wrong side of the street. One can ride his bicycle in a strange pattern. One may experiment with all manner of unusual methods. (I would, of course, advise against doing any of these things in the real world.)
During the daytime, our minds are full of the many tasks that must be accomplished. I must wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast, brush my teeth, and perform numerous other jobs. Each job involves only a simple procedure that may not require much thought, but taken together, they can create quite the “traffic jam” if not managed in an orderly fashion. The logical mind is essential for this. In fact, an archaeologist poking around in this environment can cause many problems (have you ever dropped something or tripped over something while daydreaming?)!
During the nighttime, our minds are clear. The tasks of the day have been completed. For the moment, there is little else with which to concern ourselves. There is little “traffic” in our mental space, which allows more room for creativity. The mind finds no critical tasks in the outside world; being a pattern-seeking device, it attempts to create its own patterns. It is in this environment that the act of creation takes place. As mentioned in a previous article, the act of creation invents new systems, rather than using established ones.
How can one harness this, especially if one must be concerned with a deadline? One solution is to simply move one’s creative time to the evenings. Many creators have done this. I have done this. During my university years, there was little other time to create, as the daytime was filled with classes and rehearsals.
Another solution is to simply keep one’s mind clear during the daylight hours. Done properly, this can be a powerful tool, as it allows the mind to create during the time of day when it has not yet exerted itself. There are many methods for doing this, too numerous to list here, but I will outline several that have worked for me.
1. The Walking Method. One of my favorite methods is to write down fragments of ideas, and then go out for a walk. Being outside and walking gives my “traffic cop” a simple task to regulate, distracting it. This, combined with the constant inspiration of nature and the previously-written idea, allows my “archaeologist” to play with the idea nonstop and generate new ones. After my walk, I can simply write the ideas down. Composer John Mackey says his process is similar (he has written a fascinating article about this here).
2. The Gaming Method. I play a fairly mindless videogame with the sound (or at least the music) turned off. The repetitive nature of the game lulls my traffic cop into a sense of complacency, allowing the archaeologist to explore unimpeded. I have composed several works this way.
3. The Acting Method (pun intended — look, it rhymes as well!). I focus on the “emotional core” of what I am creating, and then get in character as an actor might. If I am writing a piece of music that sounds excited, then I will attempt to get excited. Mentally, I will place myself in the scene. From there, the music can flow quite freely.
What do I do when I get an idea before falling asleep? This happens frequently, and I have lost no small amount of sleep because of this. The “muses,” as some may call them, can be quite the insistent bunch! When this happens, I know that I am unlikely to get any sleep with the idea rattling around in my mind, so I simply get up and write down the idea. Usually, I do not flesh it out completely; I write only enough to be able to remember it the next day. It might not even be properly notated. I might only have written a simple melodic fragment, with instructions such as “add a distant glockenspiel tone here” or “texture this with high, quiet strings.” The point is not to properly work with the idea, but only to store it until I have more time to realize its potential. The aforementioned “walking method” may serve this purpose well.
All of these methods accomplish the same thing: putting the “traffic cop” to sleep when he is more likely to interfere than to help. After all, he is better used after the creative process has finished its work. He is, by nature, an editor. He directs the traffic, but only the archaeologist can create the paths.
Unusually for me, this article was written in an evening, and most of it flowed out of me in a single sitting. Perhaps I have put the traffic cop to sleep for now. And perhaps, now that I have written some ideas down, my muses will allow me to sleep tonight?
Update: they did not. My muses kept me awake for quite some time, bombarding me with new ideas. Perhaps I must simply get used to this?