The joy of creativity

Just relax a little

“But to speak of the craft itself, I would not know how to advise a man how to write. It is a matter of talent and interest. I believe he must be strongly moved if he is to become a writer. Writing is like a ‘lust,’ or like ‘scratching when you itch.’ Writing comes as a result of a very strong impulse, and when it does come, I for one must get it out.” C.S. Lewis, “Heaven, Earth and Outer Space,” Decision II, 1963

This past Sunday was a great day, and I wanted to tell you about it.

Normally my Sundays are filled with regularities, not spontaneity: early morning church, (followed or sometimes pre-empted by) the occasional work event, shopping and household chores, family visits, and other preparations for the work week ahead.

But yesterday, the whole day was spent on creativity with no timetable: writing and playing in watercolour paint. After a whole day and evening spent doing artistic things, I felt content, like I had spent the day in the best possible way.

In the morning, I slept in with a headache (the headache is not the good part). Thankfully, when I woke up later than usual, the pain had dissipated. After my morning ablutions, I grabbed a muffin and headed for a local café, where I spent a couple of hours writing my next work in progress, a prequel to The Widow & The Will (working title, The Widow’s Inn).

I like Café X, in downtown Moncton. One side of this particular café is reserved for readers, and other studious folk, who, with their laptops and their headphones, exist in their own worlds, listening to music and clacking away, with a hot drink beside them. The other side of the shop, divided by a wall, is reserved for the couples and groups who are here to socialize: chatting, sipping, eating and laughing.

I don’t need headphones to mask it all. I like the low hum of a public space, the bustle and background noise. The people-watching. There’s a time and place for everything, including the devoted nature of my quiet home office, but not today.

Anyway, this particular Sunday, I experienced that burst of contented energy that I often feel after a good writing session, improved because I happened to notice a nice review online of my previous book that I hadn’t seen before. This feeling of accomplishment assures me that I am really a writer.

I confess that I don’t often feel what C.S. Lewis felt in the quote leading off this post. I am daunted at the thought of starting a new novel, even though I want to do it. The first draft is such a long process – and being a full-time worker, there’s only so much time and energy to go around. The Widow & The Will took ten years to complete, with all the stops and starts and gaps and changes of direction along the way, and I don’t want my subsequent projects to take that long. I’d love to have a first draft by the end of 2026. Can I do it?

Goal-setters say, “of course you can. Just set up your life that way. Make it a priority.” But there are so many priorities…

Conversely, my husband is a great fan of Scott Adams (Dilbert fame) who writes about pursuing systems in your life instead of goals. Adams offers a simple and useful definition to explain these terms in his book How to Fail at Almost Everything and Still Win Big: “If you do something every day, it’s a system. If you’re waiting to achieve it someday in the future, it’s a goal.” In other words, focus on the journey, and let the destination look after itself.

Adams writes, “Goal-oriented people exist in a state of continuous pre success failure at best, and permanent failure at worst if things never work out. Systems people succeed every time they apply their systems, in the sense that they did what they intended to do. The goals people are fighting the feeling of discouragement at each turn. The systems people are feeling good every time they apply their system.”

I can relate to the nagging feeling of continuous pre-success-failure followed by permanent failure. It’s exhausting. I had wanted to complete The Widow & The Will in one or two years, not ten. Life gets in the way.

But creativity doesn’t blossom in exhaustion. It blossoms in enjoyment and contentment. Like yesterday, when after my writing session, I bought dinner for the family, rather than dithering about what to cook, while staring in the refrigerator.

Afterward, I spent the evening in front of the television, watching the Fringe series for the sixth time and painting Christmas cards.

I’m no professional artist, but making simple designs in watercolour is loads of fun.

I notice that I’m not nearly so hard on myself about painting than I am about writing. I’m not trying to be perfect. I’m not so worried about the outcome. I’m just enjoying the process.

Hey…maybe I’m on to something here.

Can I think the same way about writing? It’s harder, because I want to be known as a writer. I want to be a good writer, who writes books that people enjoy.

Painting is different. It’s just for fun. I don’t lose sleep over the professional quality of the watercolour card I gave you for Christmas. I made it because I enjoyed doing it, without worrying about the outcome. (Mind you, I didn’t give anyone the duds in the watercolour card pile. So I’m not completely judgement-free. Perhaps it’s just that I don’t mind that there is a dud pile.)

Perhaps my “system” should simply be to write regularly – no pressure about what I’m writing, but just doing it, enjoying the process – maybe not every day, but for at least an hour or two, a few days a week? Or could I at least commit to the weekends?

I’ll let you know how that goes. In the meantime, I wish you joy and peace and contentment during this Christmas season, and I wish you joy in your creativity, wherever it takes you.

For unto you is born this day in the City of David, a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord. Luke 2:11