7 Rules For Creativity From 7 Years of Writing
“May what I do flow from me like a river, no forcing and no holding back, the way it is with children.”
Seven years ago, I wrote a short story titled “Sean’s Journey”. It was about a young Irish man seeking a spiritual adventure. The story wasn’t good. The writing was poor. I didn’t show it to anyone.
However, I caught the creativity bug.
After some time and much work, I found that writing was the platform to express myself. Whenever I was creating a story, or filtering a thought that I wanted to share, I found myself in a “state of flow”; the mental state of being present and immersed in an activity.
Athletes describe it as “being in the zone.” Joseph Campbell, the great American mythologist, calls it the “rapture of being alive”. In such a state, I’m absorbed in a moment that my sense of self disappears, and time and space collapses.
My journey started with writing my “Morning Pages” as heralded by Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way. I would decipher my dreams, analyze my previous day’s actions and take a deeper look into the fears that were holding me back. These musings would lead to questions which led to answers by way of an article.
Over the past seven years, I’ve created my own blog with over ten thousand subscribers, been published in well-known websites such as elephant journal, have established a weekly column in a national newspaper, and have written two books.
I am still in my toddler years as a writer. However, I’ve also learned many lessons about creativity and writing.
These are my top seven:
Develop a writing habit.
Aristotle said, “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.”
We are a collection of our habits.
Habits lead us to the present moment where real joy sits. The more time we spend in a set practice, where we shut our “monkey minds” off and perform the habits, the greater our link is to the creative, conscious mind.
If something is not scheduled, then the odds are that it won’t happen. We can put creative sessions into our calendar as far as a month in advance and treat this time as we would a meeting or a special event; make it fixed and non-negotiable.
We often underestimate the power of small actions, which compound into achieving big goals.
I write at 6 am, for at least an hour every day (except on Sundays). This normally results in 750-1000 words per day. Do 25 days of 1000 words and suddenly you have a Novella. Do two months and you have a book.
“The first draft of anything is shit.”
The reality is that our first attempt at anything is usually mediocre at best. The first step is always about showing up and putting it out there. There is nothing called perfection. Many of us hide behind perfection because we are afraid of being criticized, or of not being enough.
When we accept that our first attempt is shit, we appreciate that we must practice, learn from our mistakes, take feedback from our trusted helpers and find the courage to edit our work and put it out again.
I recall when I started writing my book—The Shift. Whenever I sat down to write the first draft of the first chapter, I would get overwhelmed and procrastinate. The line I’d been selling myself is that if I’m to write a book, it needs to be perfect.
Obviously, that’s not reality. Even Hemingway first draft was shit. It was he who came up with the quote.
Writing is 10% talent and 90% hard work.
Talent is truly overrated. Instead of listening to the often touted advice of ‘follow your passion’, I think a better aim is to find something that piques our interest.
This pursuit must resonate with us, excite us, and motivate us if we are to sacrifice our time to cultivate a craftsman mindset. We will get up at 4 am to write that chapter; we’ll drive an hour on Sunday morning to be the first person teeing off at the golf course.
Whether it’s understanding all the rules of grammar, recognising how perspective plays a big role in painting or identifying the different musical elements such as tone, pitch, rhythm, and melody by listening, everything is learnable.
At the age of 14, Leonardo da Vinci was apprenticed to the artist Andrea di Cione, known as Verrocchio, whose workshop was one of the finest in Florence. Only after seven years did he qualify as a master.
To improve my skills, I read every day for an hour, tackle one big topic—grammar, chapter structure— once every three months. I also enrolled in writing courses culminating in me doing an MFA in non-fiction creative writing.
Right Environment.
Who and what we surround ourselves with us will impact our creative endeavours.
The best way to learn French is to go to Paris for three months and immerse ourselves in the language, culture, and everything that’s French.
For the past seven years, I’ve immersed my mind in writing, I’ve surrounded myself with writing teachers and literary friends, and joined online courses and forums. I’ve built a new world where it’s not only possible to become a writer but expected.
This total immersion has changed my thoughts and beliefs, and thus my actions reflect the environment I am part of.
Deep work.
To produce quality work, we need focus.
In the Millennial Age, we are constantly distracted by the deluge of information. We are heading to the apex of shallowness in our work, relationships, and goals.
Deep work describes our ability to focus singularly on a task, without any distractions, in order to produce meaningful, quality work. It can apply to writing a book, crafting a new Chanel handbag, or understanding a complex programming concept.
Deep work is a powerful way to stop that slide and guide ourselves to more meaning and joy. It is where the magic happens. It’s what enabled Steve Jobs, with his powers of focus, to envision and create the iPod, iPhone, and iPad.
Now more than ever, we need to differentiate ourselves from the crowd, where everyone is faster and smarter. It’s time to slow down and dumb down. What is needed is not speed, but quality and mastery.
Whenever I’m planning to write, whether that’s an hour or four, I cut internet, email and put my phone in another room.
Have a journal
We overestimate the powers of our memory.
Thoughts, ideas and observations happen instantaneously. If we don’t record them somewhere then they are gone. Whether it’s carrying a notebook, using a telephone app or recording a voice memo to save the thought, doesn’t matter. What matters is to save the idea.
I carry a small notebook, where I record ideas and thoughts that come flooding in when I’m working out, driving (I stop the car and park by the side) and listening to podcasts. I also add quotes and writing ideas that come up during the day.
Details. Details.
“It’s in the details,” the MFA tutor said to me.
Most of us are exposed to new information every day, but never internalize it. With so much information competing for our focus, it’s hugely challenging to zero in on anything.
We remember the concrete details. They create relatable images that touch us and emotionalize a story, song, concept, or teaching. It’s only when that happens that we are moved to understand the experiences relayed.
Those crucial details then become a doorway to the wisdom we need. They help us embody or absorb knowledge.
Charles Bukowski, one of the most popular poets of the twentieth century, started his poetry with beautiful small details before subtly leading us to a theme.
In the excerpt below from his poem “Bluebird,” the bluebird is a vivid image representing his repressed feelings:
“there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s in there.”