I go through phases of moaning about uncreative I am. ‘I don’t feel inspired to write anything,’ I’ll mope, as if moping will change anything.
I’ve decided to stop thinking about what I want to do as creativity and to start thinking about it as making.
But making happens all the time. I make my dinner. I make my way to work. I make a joke. It’s all creative but it comes out of the natural and everyday, rather than some kind of extra-human, semi-divine effort.
I’ve told myself I need to feel creative to produce art. But I don’t need to feel anything to make. I just make.
Realising how much I make everyday helps me realise how much creative energy I expend effortlessly. It’s liberating.
Trying to coax creativity leaves me stuck and frustrated, whereas if I just make something – a recipe I’ve never tried before, a card for a friend, time for exercise – then my creative juices start flowing.
Creativity isn’t a feeling or a gift. It’s a practice. And that practice is the act of making. So go make.