The creatives’ curse

Writers’ block — it’s a bitch! You know what else is a constant frustration; my hands’ inability to translate the beautiful image swirling around my brain’s right hemisphere into something more than just a primitive child-esque crayon-crafted sketch in which you’re not sure if that colourful blob on the right is a cat, or a crocodile.

There’s a song I play when I need inspiration, drive, and a reminder of purpose, and no, in this instance (only), it’s not Spice Up Your Life, by the greatest female quintet to have ever championed girl power.

I’m an optimist of the most dangerous size

Josef Salvat’s This Life resonates with me in a way I never assumed the intelligent side of 80s-inspired synth-pop ever could. I’m a self-proclaimed creative who feels stunted in her abilities more often than not, yet I work in an industry when you need to be so extroverted about your brilliance that even crocodile cat can be sold as genius.

There’s a cathartic line Salvat sings; “I felt the sting and slap of failure” that makes me feel like I’m not the only one who has erased entire chapters, poems, and illustrations while questioning if I’m really creative, or just delusional. But, as he also says, you gotta keep the hope up and be optimistic.

I’m lucky! My boyfriend is so (infuriatingly) creative, he pushes me to explore all avenues. I have ideas — lots of them — some of which have worked out pretty good, and I’ve been lucky enough to listen to smarter people than myself discuss inside/outside the box thinking, and how ‘madness’ can be your best attribute when creating something that matters.

I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want

I want to create fulfilling work that means something to someone and bring joy to many. I’d like to think, as you read this, you know the feeling. The general conscious among most creative specimens (that I know) is the desire to craft substance, but, we all have our moments when we feel boxed in by monotony, fear of failure, and lack of inspiration. But, is being boxed in where we can find amazing ideas?

One cold rainy night in Amsterdam — that could be summer or winter here because it’s always bloody raining — I was close to forsaking writing and drawing forever after a truly pitiful week of shit wordplay and even shitter sketches. You been there too? I got tired of trying and took a little nip of whiskey to calm my soul. While sipping that golden shot of chaos, I started to think about a talk I heard at OnBrand 17’ by Wieden & Kennedy Amsterdam’s MD, in which, the underappreciation of inside-the-box thinking was discussed. His argument was this; his team was able to create an amazing campaign by knowing their environment, by staying inside the box, and simply flexing its walls until they came up with something that genuinely was a joy to experience.

So, as I sat in my gloomy frustration-filled box, I asked; could I use this for inspiration? What could I take from that environment that might matter to people, make them laugh, or feel something, and ultimately, make me feel good for creating? And then I understood that it was a chance to share empathy and address a shared problem — the creatives’ curse.

You’ve felt it, right? A persistent perception that what you’re doing doesn’t matter, isn’t good enough, and is neither cat nor crocodile. While it’s frustrating, and tends to stick around with the ignorance of creative-cockblocking third wheel, you can use it — inspiration is everywhere, after all.

My inspiration came from asking myself this; am I suffering from a creative block, or was I spiritually and emotionally empty? Did I need to push through whatever barrier that was between myself and that first chapter, or did I need to step away from what I was working on and do something that refilled my creative cache?

I decided to take a step back, bother my dog with a few late-night cuddles, and write this. As the words flowed and feelings amplified with every line, I became to feel more positive, more fulfilled, and happier. I realised that from a box of self-doubt, I’d pulled together the words that articulated an empty feeling that had shadowed me for five days — and has perhaps followed you around too.

Rather than repeatedly telling myself to snap out of it and push through, I took inspiration from a lack of inspiration, and, ultimately, lifted the curse. Now, I’m off to finish that chapter and sketch the fox that’s been in my brain all week.