Notes from An Alien

~ Explorations In Reading, Writing & Publishing ~

Tag Archives: Creative Flow

Spaces, In Your Head, Heart, and Life, Can Be Your Saving Grace . . .


I can’t imagine being the kind of writer who feels they must have X-number of words written before they can attend to other things.

Although, it may function as a “fix” for certain people who are prone to avoiding engagement with the writing process.

Yet, I can only assume some writers are so fixated on word-count because they’re swept up by the lure of recognition—accolades from adoring fans and the multi-mega-million deal from the Big (“God”-like) Publishers

Some writers may even hold in scorn the person who feels day-to-day relationships must be honored and writing must be balanced with other creative activities—or, no “activity” at all

I’ve been receiving The Curator in my email for a few weeks now and find most of the articles extremely refreshing.

In their own words, they seek “…to encourage, promote, and uncover those artifacts of culture—those things which humans create—that inspire and embody truth, goodness, and beauty. We do this through considering and grappling with the zeitgeist.”

They often write about writing but I equally enjoy the other grapples with the zeitgeist—they give me a chance to come up for air periodically, in my quest to dive deeply enough into my mind to write the second book in my series

A few weeks ago, there was an article called Unstatement by George Anderson.

The only bio I could find for the man says, “George Anderson is a normal guy who writes things. He started with a novella about a talking can at some forgotten age and just wouldn’t quit.”

I can remember my attempts at being normal

Always would fail, utterly :-)

I have a feeling George isn’t really all that normal, either.

Consider these words of his from the article:

“I realized that I had become a jack of all trades (and the rest of the cliché)—a fool who enjoys sensual and creative stimulation but can’t bring himself to commit to any one discipline. But now, after recovering from that intense addiction to creative practice, I’ve begun to understand a larger definition of space—one that functions not only in art per se but in the creative process and in real life.”

I can relate

I recently pulled back from a complex project of readying myself to write the next book. Did it by allowing myself the space to re-read a certain Diary that immersed me in an interior State that lent me Release from a temporary Illusion—Not Being Ready.

I’ve even installed a groovy Solitaire program on my computer so I can relax away from any attempts to re-enter the Illusion

A few more words from George:

“I grew a lot as a writer, but then I started thinking about raising a family and being a breadwinner. My creative potential was still high, but my income potential looked like silence; so I scrambled to fill that silence. I started another degree, this one in graphic design. Rather than leaving the white space in my life alone, I tried to slather it with The Good Stuff. One and three-quarters semesters later, I dropped out, overworked and plagued with anxiety attacks. I had not yet learned the function of silence, of uncertainty.”

The Function of Uncertainty

The Embrace of Mystery

The Trust in the Muse

Sure, most writers need some sort of “scaffolding” to begin the act of creativity—some “direction”, some “form”, some “focal point”.

But, to echo a popular meme:

It doesn’t get good till you’re bleeding on the page.

How much should you bleed in each predetermined session of writing?

Sorry, just had to write an outrageous sentence—had to strike a contrast between Flow and Slavery

Just a bit more from George:

“…I realized that the creative process itself is an artwork, sheltering what we call art, nested within the larger artwork of life. This three-tiered fractal structure of art within art within art, of wheels within wheels, was collapsing around me. I was not balancing the outermost medium of creativity—my life itself, my mental and emotional health—with crucial white space. My head was crammed with obsession over what I wanted to accomplish and the corollary fear of failure.”

And, at the risk of keeping you from taking the link and reading George’s full article, I give you his stunning conclusion:

“Exhausted, suffering this for many nights in a row, I asked God with sincere and childish tears where He was. I heard only silence, and I cried some more.

“But a thought kept nagging: maybe this God is balancing his artwork with white space.”
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