Under Pressure

I work for a well-known magazine. It’s probably considered one of the most—if not the most—innovative “traditional” media brands still in existence today. Except that it’s not traditional at all. Other brands look to us as a beacon for possibility—a bright light shining on a clear path for what the future holds.

That leaves me having to be creative and come up with never-been-done-before ideas—all day, every day, 365 days a year. Oh right, and on 24-48 hour deadlines, too.

I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with creativity. I have so much admiration for those who have the capacity to make connections between seemingly unrelated ideas and produce something awe inspiring. Unfortunately, that’s just not me—and that’s where the hate part comes in. I’ve read several articles and books on creativity, watched TED talks ad nauseum, even followed the “how to be creative” lists of some of the brightest minds out there. Creativity is just one of those innate capabilities—you’ve either got it, or you don’t!

I asked some of the closest people in my circle, whether they consider me creative and ten-out-of-ten responded with a resounding “yes!” “You’re one of the most creative people I know!” “Yes, extremely!” “Are you kidding me? Is this a serious question?”

Upon further investigation apparently my “overall approach to life is creative.” “The way you dress, how you speak, just everything about you!” While that sounds amazing to my ears—something I’ve always wished—I have to wonder, “Can it be true?” How is it that my circle sees me as creative, yet I don’t see it—let alone feel it—myself?

Sure, I’ve surrounded myself with the masters of creativity—artists, writers, entrepreneurs, chefs, etc. I’ve an art-flooded workspace and equally inspiring home, a budding library filled with ideas, and a schedule packed with museum exhibits, concerts, and festivals of all types. I guess I’m hoping that until I really get that spark of genius I’ll just be guilty by association.