Tag Archives: writers

Writers Are Really Weird

Posted on January 23, 2013 | 3 comments

If you complete some research on famous writers and their writing habits you find interesting things like this:

Writer A writes 2000 words a day without fail.

Writer B can only write standing up and produces 3000 words a day.

Writer C writes 1,500 words in the early hours of the morning before the family wakes up.

Writer D dances widdershins around the coffee pot before lighting an incense stick and playing whale song CDs, and writes with rainforest-certified pencils on hand-made paper recycled from a daily newspaper from Australia. And then writes 5000 words.

(I made the last one up).

Whenever I read about the habits of famous authors, all I take away from the information is that there are some really whacked-out, freaky, obsessive-compulsive writers, probably alcoholic and addicted to something.

All you learn is that each writer has their own idiosyncrasies which may or may not work for you.

It’s an interesting exercise from a creative point of view but rather pointless in understanding how YOU create and write.

There is no single formula applicable to every creative person or writer. There is no “one size fits all” category.

And there’s no point in telling you how I work because it probably won’t be applicable to you.

Simply, find the process that works for you.

Addendum

Knowing how someone creates gives you a template to begin understanding your own process.

I am a new and emerging writer. I have had a number of short stories published and I am working towards a number of fiction and non-fiction projects. I am not professional in the sense I make a living from writing.

I teach high school English full time. This means there are times when writing cannot be fitted in to my week.

This is how I write: my writing is fitted into the timetable of my day in regards to work and family. Normally this means evenings (once the children are in bed) or on weekends. I cannot guarantee the same amount of time to write each week so I have to be as productive as possible.

I don’t write at school because there is enough to do there without adding extra. School holidays provide more time to write, but even then there is school work to do (marking of assessments and preparation).

Simply put it is a case of write when you can write.

Make time to write.

Fit it into the spare moments of the day.

Plan to write and follow through on that plan. Even if it’s only 200 words.

Again, find the process that works for you.

 

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Microwave Literature

Posted on January 21, 2013 | 3 comments

How many words MUST you write EVERY day? 100? 200? 500? 1000? 2000? 5000?

Are you writing (fast) enough to get your work out there?

There are two things wrong with the opening question: “must” and “every.”

It is used as a whip-like carrot to push writers to produce work as quickly as possible. There is a sense of urgency, almost panic, to make writers seat themselves down and write furiously. Think National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and you’re on the right track.

It’s a complete load of bollocks.

But where’s it all coming from?

In the current changing literary climate of uncertainty between the forms of traditional publishing and self-publishing, there is a push to produce work as fast as possible, lest the opportunity for publication disappears.

As a new and emerging author, I do feel the pressure to “get work out there” in some form or another, as soon as possible. The sense I gain from reading bloggers, authors and industry experts, if I don’t, I am supposedly missing out on future income, building a platform for the market and the audience.

Microwave Literature

The danger I see for writers, myself included in all this, is a risk of producing microwave literature: it’s hot on the outside, cold in the middle and not entirely satisfying. It’s bland, tastes like cardboard and the packaging is more interesting than the product.


It’s a measure of quantity over quality. Prolific out put does not necessarily equal quality work (and the two concepts are not mutually exclusive).

In an article I read some time ago (and for the life of me, can’t find the link again) an advertising creator was discussing the changes he had seen in his industry. The push to create a campaign changed the way they had to work. No longer did they have the luxury of days or weeks to brainstorm an idea or concept, refine it and develop it. Their creative time had been whittled down to almost a matter of hours.

Literature is experiencing a similar time constraint.

The Technology Factor

Technology makes the act of creating easier, convenient and accessible, but it should only ever be a tool to assist in the creation of beautiful, crafted prose. I worry about the next generation of writers, those born into the digital world, and have known nothing else.

As an English teacher (my full time job) I teach students born into a digital, hyper-connected world where the digital is too easily considered disposable.

They are enamoured with the process of creating, especially using technology, more than the quality of the product they are creating. These are students need to understand the difference between disposable and longevity (and there is a place for both), between process and product.

I would rather spend time crafting a solid piece of work and make it the best it can be than sending it out into the world half baked. I enjoy books where I dive into the story, not caring about the writing, but sometimes I want to linger over a sentence or paragraph and marvel at its construction. It may be a simple sentence, breathtaking in its simplicity, or a languorous sentence to be slowly dissolved in the mouth, savouring the lexicon and construction.

What I fear is a generation of writers and readers who will only know the quality of microwave literature. As Cookie Monster says, “Cookies are a sometimes food.”

The same rule applies to literature.

As writers there is a need for serious dedication to craft and art of writing. There will always be works published where the writing is considered below par, but it reflects on the power of the story to engage (not the quality of the writing). I want the literary heroes of my generation to be on par with the literary giants of other eras because they spent time perfecting the craft.

It is what I aspire to.

What I Intend To Do

Take my time

Even if it takes me five years to write my first novel, so be it.

I don’t need to rush just because I feel opportunities are rushing past. There will always be opportunities for publication. Sometimes I will see an opportunity I want to submit and will work within the time restraints.

Focus on producing excellent, quality work.

This means having it drafted, edited, beta read, corrected *rinse and repeat cycle for as many times necessary*

I will put in the required hours.

All this talk of writing has made me hungry. Where’s a bag of popcorn I can put in the microwave?

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Your Life In Centimetres

Posted on January 18, 2013 | 17 comments

You stood beside me as the workmen gutted the kitchen, stripping the carcass to its constituent framework. Twenty-eight years of old Formica and lino, wonky hanging doors, spilled food stains and enough crockery broken through accident and anger.

“Hey Dad, I’m Jonah trapped inside the belly of the whale,” you said waving your hands beneath the exposed timber beams.

You winced as a crowbar jammed into the doorframe leading into the dining room and levered the old timber.

“Please be careful,” you said. Almost an invocation and the workman stopped. You walked over to the bending wood and ran your hand over the names and numbers. My hand followed yours down the lists like a medieval scribe interpreting the sacred texts and pictograms.

I remember when it started, when you were a wobbly one year old, unsteady on her feet. Against the doorframe between the kitchen and the dining room I measured your life in centimetres.

On the evening of each birthday you stood with your feet flat on the floor and I placed a ruler on your head and scratched at the mark with a pencil. You slipped out from under the ruler at the first instance to compare it against last year’s mark. I reached for the permanent marker and fixed your height against the wall like the rising marker of a flood level.

When you were smaller you bounced on the balls of your feet, pigtails dancing in unison, the tape measure in your hand. You wanted to hold the end of the tape measure flat to the floor, looking up it extended towards the ceiling. Scrambling up, you watched me scribe your height onto the wall, writing the secret code shared between us on the wall.

“How high am I now, Daddy?”

“How tall are you now.”

“How tall am I now, Daddy?”

“One hundred and twenty one centimetres.”

Sometimes I would catch you measuring yourself against the wall in-between birthdays.

“Measure me today Dad because I’m taller.”

“It’s not your birthday.”

“I can’t wait that long.”

“You’ll have to.”

A resigned smile followed by a mental calculation of how many days remained until your birthday.

Against the markers the extended family was subjected to a heightist conspiracy: uncles, aunts, cousins, friends. And Gary Brown remains the tallest person you know and measured against the wall, even taller than your younger brothers.

Your mother refused to be measured after a certain age, convinced she was shrinking. Especially after you celebrated the day your line passed your mother’s. You even tried to stand on your tiptoes to prove you were taller than me when you maxxed out at nineteen.

You charted and graphed the growth of you and your brothers for a maths assignment, logging the differences in height from year to year; the growth spurts and the gradual slowing down.

And when I thought you were too old to care about measuring your height, when your friends became more important, you sidled up to me as I was sitting in my chair working on the computer. In your hand was a ruler, pencil and permanent marker. You kissed my forehead, took my hand and pulled me towards the doorframe and said, “You have to measure me, Dad. It’s my birthday.”

Now the wall is flaking and peeling in a thousand layers of sunburnt skin. Or pulled up by the Batlow Red Delicious apple stickers (your favourite) applied around the doorframe. A trail of two hundred and twenty six minute green stepping stones traversing the frame beginning at the floor, following the markers of your height and extending beyond until it came back down the other side of the frame. It annoyed your mother but she relented.            

“At least she’s eating fruit,” she said.

This is your life, measured in increments, dated and catalogued until you were taller no more. This is my photo album, my filing system of memories.

At each evening meal you sat on my left hand side to see the television better but I watched your face and matched it to the lines on the wall.

And then there’s the photo on your wedding day, crouched beside the doorframe pointing at your first height marker. The freckles are still there, I know they are, hidden beneath the layer of makeup. You played dot-to-dot on your nose with a purple texta when you were seven. You scrubbed your face until it was red and raw. Going to school the next day you were so embarrassed about faint lines evident on your face.

Taking your hand from the wood the workmen continued and you waited for the delivery of the totem.

You cradled the wrenched wood as you would a child. Moving out of the noise of the renovations I followed you outside where you leaned it against the wall near the back door.

“It won’t be the same without the old height marker there,” I said.

“It would be nice if you started a new one,” you said. “For the grandchildren.”

You circled your stomach with your hand, looked at me and smiled.

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Three Words for the Year

Posted on January 14, 2013 | 1 comment

The beginning of a new year is a time for pause and reflection. It is a time to look back and see what you have achieved and look forward to plan what you want to do. 

I had a long list of projects I want to complete (short stories, novellas, a picture book, novels, collaborative projects including a multimedia production, short films/storyboards and non-fiction) so I divided them into a 3-year plan.

I typed up my goals, printed them on coloured paper and stuck it on my wall:

  • GREEN (2013 – Go For Launch),
  • YELLOW (2014 – Look, but preferably stay on target)
  • RED (2015 – Do Not Touch Under Any Circumstances)

I did this to ensure I stayed on target (Red 5 standing by), to keep me focused on the work at hand and make sure it gets finished.

I am continually writing down ideas for stories and blog posts in my notebook, and keep a record on my computer of new ideas. Any new thoughts I have on future projects are written down and filed away.

My focus is therefore on the big picture. My plans are flexible and are subject to change but I needed to sort out the tangled spaghetti mess of ideas in my head.

Plans are all good and well, but how do you maintain the focus needed to fulfil lofty ambitions (I realise I am aiming quite high in what I expect to achieve but the bar has to be set somewhere)?

It is useful to distil the focal point of a year to a clear statement or paragraph or a set of words. Some people choose a S.M.A.R.T. plan  (Specific. Measurable. Attainable. Relevant. Timely.)

I choose three words.

This distillation is easy to recall. It is a check for me against what I am doing compared to what I know I should be doing.

I find using three words is a good way to monitor myself and my progress. This year I have chosen three words relevant to what I am aiming to achieve for my writing and myself. They are a measure of maintaining my creative life.

  1. Disciplined

  2. Dedication

  3. Purposeful

Disciplined

One area in my life that deserves attention is discipline. One of my favourite Proverbs (25:28) is “Like a city whose walls are broken down is a man who lacks self-control.”

If I want to pursue a creative life through writing, I must be disciplined. For me it will involve setting aside specific times for writing, editing, planning, while minimising distractions and time-wasting activities. It will also be a year of a disciplined mind and a disciplined body.

It requires discipline to keep your eye on the goals you have set and to work towards achieving those goals. I incorporate aspects and elements of a S.M.A.R.T. plan into my writing goals, although I allow for greater flexibility knowing certain times of year are busy for me with work.

Dedication

The commitment to a creative life, the pursuit of excellence in a creative endeavour requires dedication. I write and I create because I believe it is an integral part of who I am. To ignore it is to forget who I am.

I am also dedicated to excellence in my work. I will not settle for substandard work. In my dedication to my craft and to improving my work I will seek out beta readers, gather feedback and critique, then edit and rewrite until it is finished.

Purposeful

I will frame this third word as a question: “Is what I am doing moving me towards my goals or moving me away from it?”

I allow for down time, rest periods and general shenanigans, but when it comes to writing time, am I writing with a purpose? Am I wasting time or am I being productive?

being purposeful might mean saying “no” to a project I want to work on. It might mean forgoing entry into a prestigious competition.

But the ultimate question is, “Is it moving me towards, or away from, my goals?”

Disciplined. Dedication. Purposeful.

What are your 3 words for the year?

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Recreation – Becoming a Creative Person Again

Posted on January 1, 2013 | 3 comments

Welcome to the third part of the “Reflection, Resurrection, Recreation” series.

In Part 1, Reflection, it was asked what kept you from being creative. Part 2, Resurrection, asked if you needed to shut down your creative life.

Part 3 brings both groups of people to a focal point: the need for re-creation. At the beginning of the new year it is good to have looked back at what was, evaluated the positive and the negative, in order to look forward.

Recreation of yourself and your creative life requires a new focus, a new perspective, a new challenge. It comes down to the core of who you are, your values, your purpose and the tools and skills you need.

At our core we are creative beings. If we have lost the creative core of who we are, we need to recreate ourselves like the phoenix is reborn from the ashes of itself.

The act of recreating yourself is a spiritual one.

The act of creating is a spiritual act, a divine unction to do something. It is time for recreation. Here’s how.

Know Who You Are

Knowing who you are requires a bold, declarative statement. It requires a fundamental belief in what it is you do.

Get a pen and a piece of paper. Write down the following:

“I am a creative person.”

Repeat it. Write it down again. Say it in your head. Say it aloud.

This is who you are. You are a creative person. How it is manifested in your life is based on your interests and skills.

There is a fundamental need to create inherent in each one of us.

Embracing the fact you are a creative person is the first step to recreation.

Creativity Gives You Purpose

“I am a creative person.”

You identify creativity as a purpose in your life. It gives meaning to your life because in the act of creating it helps you make sense of the world. Even if all you do is ask questions through your creative acts, you understand creativity gives you purpose.

Creativity is the means you explore ideas, confront fears, confront negativity, promote positivity, birth beauty, truth and wisdom into the world.

Creativity brings you child-like joy in the act of creating.

Creativity is who you are.

Update Your Tool Box

What tools do you need to be creative?

Pens and pencils? Notebooks? Canvas, paint and brushes? Scissors? A ream of Post-It Notes? A camera? A stick of glue and tube of glitter?

If you have abandoned your creative life or are resurrecting it, you will have the tools at your disposal.

Keep it simple. As a writer I only need a pen (preferably an Artline 0.4 black felt tip pen) and a notebook (any cheap thing will do). I don’t need fancy pens or paper; they will not make me write better. I don’t use writing applications on my computer.

Work out what you really need. Start simply.

Don’t go out splurging massive amounts of money.

As a drummer it is tempting to walk into a drum store or browse through catalogues and believe I need the latest and greatest or the most expensive. But each time it happens I stop myself. I have the tools I need and they are good tools. I must master the tools I currently own. I need to focus on developing my skills to improve my technique.

What skills do you need?

Being creative requires very little skill at all. Pick up a pen, a piece of paper and a pair of scissors and hours of fun await you.

Use what you do have to create.

But to take your skills further may require training, new information, a mentor, or professional classes to enable you to be excellent at what you do. Part of your recreation may involve enrolling in a community college or a university course.

Recapturing the Creativity

The beauty of creativity is in its simplicity. There is much joy and wonder to be gained by creating simple things.

Creativity is about play, being child-like in our enthusiasm. The child-like simplicity of play is something we forget as adults. We grow, mature, develop sophistication and somehow forget the need to play. I suggest reading Jodi Cleghorn’s recent post on rediscovering creativity through the eyes of a child.

When recreating yourself, coming back to the very essence of who you are, come back with a sense of playfulness and joy. In your recreation:

  • Be playful
  • Be adventurous
  • Be spontaneous
  • Be silent from time to time
  • Be aware of wondrous things: the remarkable and the everyday
  • Be observant
  • Be proactive
  • Be musical
  • Be kinaesthetic
  • Be you

This will feed your creative spirit and find expression in creative acts.

May your creativity be reborn from the ashes as you rediscover who you are, your purpose and your tools.

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Resurrection – When To Shut Down a Creative Life (And When To Resurrect It)

Posted on December 30, 2012 | 7 comments

Welcome to Part 2 of Reflection, Resurrection and Recreation.

Friday’s post, Reflection, asked why we gave up a creative life and encouraged us to live creatively again.

Part 2 is about death: the need to shut down a creative life, and resurrection: when it take it up again.

As creative people, the idea of shutting down our creative life is akin to hacking a limb off or stopping breathing. While it might appear to be the opposite thing to do, it may in fact be apposite.

Every so often you need to evaluate your creative life, check the map for where you are compared to where you are headed and work out whether you are lost in the Pit of Despair or frolicking in the ball pit at Ikea.

If your creativity is not in the place you want it to be, you need some serious self-reflection.

Do you need to shut down your creative life?

Ask yourself the following questions:

Have You Lost the Passion?

Being creative is hard work. Every creative person will proclaim it loudly from the toilet cubicle (better resonance). We enjoy being creative because we are passionate about it. The passion drives us to continue, to persevere, to work through the tough periods. There is great joy in creating.

But without passion, you are continually giving of yourself and not feeding your own needs. There is more going out than what is coming in. The reasons for the lack of passion are numerous, both internal and external; you will know what has taken away your love for creativity.

Without passion, your creative work will suck you dry and spit out your withered carcass.

To find your passion again, shut down your creative life.

Are You Grieving A Loss?

The loss of a creative project or the completion of something you have invested yourself heavily into can be like a death in the family.

You have to grieve what you have lost; remember what you have accomplished and celebrate the achievements.

It is natural to grieve after a loss. In order to deal with the grief and loss, shut down your creative life.

Does Your Work Suck?

This is tricky. If you are not developing and improving in your chosen creative field, you have to ask someone to objectively and critically evaluate your work. You need to ask the hard question, “Does my work suck?”

If the overwhelming consensus is your work sucks, you have two choices. Firstly, improve your skills. Enrol in a course, find a mentor, workshop your project, seek advice. Or secondly, shut it down. Focus your creative energies elsewhere if what you are doing is truly not what you want to do. Experiment with a few areas to see where your skills are best suited.

Have You Moved Away From Your Core Values?

It can be too easy to seek out the latest trend, jump aboard the bandwagon and ride shotgun. All the while you are moving further away from your original intentions and purpose.

Are you in the wrong creative field?

Are you writing short stories when you should be producing short films?

Are you painting when you should be writing?

Who are you and what do you want to be doing?

Are you doing it?

Why not?

There is nothing wrong with diversifying and experimenting, trying out new creative mediums, but if it takes you away from the core of who you are and what you do, it is time to shut it down.

Has Your Creative Life Crossed Boundaries?

Creative people can be obsessive and focused or ethereal and unreliable as they pursue a creative life. If your creativity is taking over your life and interfering with relationships, if it is taking away from family and friends, it may be time to shut it down.

Creativity involves a sacrifice of time and effort, but not at the expense of you being a selfish pillock. Communicate what you want, negotiate the boundaries so that all involved have a clear understanding of what is required. It may require the drawing up of an agreement, stuck to the fridge as a constant reminder of each person’s responsibilities.

Focus and dedication are important to the life of a creative individual, but if it crosses boundaries, shut it down.

Has The Well Run Dry?

Creative people speak of the “well of ideas,” a place to draw inspiration. Reading a book, watching a movie, visiting art galleries or taking a walk with the rabbit on a leash can fill the well of ideas. A project needs time to develop, consciously, unconsciously and subconsciously. Ideas generate ideas.

Sometimes the creative well is dry because the plug has been pulled out. The draining of ideas may have its source in a range of things: your own emotional state, external situations and circumstances, demands and pressures on your time, or relationships.

You need to refill the well by putting the plug back in and letting it refill in its own time from a trickle to a torrent. Feed yourself on good things like art and music, books and films. Fall in love with simple pleasures again. Leave the tools on your desk and have no regrets in leaving them alone.

If you are dry, shut down your creative life.

Death and Resurrection

But how long should your creative life be shut down?

If you shut down your creative life, will it be resurrected?

Will it become a derelict building, boarded up, dilapidated, falling into ruin and fit for demolition? The shutting down of a creative life may be an individual’s choice or the result of external circumstances and situations, or a combination of both. Some may choose to leave the creative life altogether and never return. This is a shame because I believe creativity should be a part of everyone’s life.

If the shutting down is a voluntary choice, you are giving yourself permission to step aside from a creative life. When you make that decision, embrace it. Grieve your loss and mourn the death.

Set a period of time for your creative life to be dormant: days, weeks, months, or even years.

During that time clear your space; throw out what is not needed; purge the unwanted and irrelevant.

Then set a specific date to resurrect your creative life.

Focus on a project; set achievable goals. Have a project ready to pick up and finish or a project to start afresh.

The creative life is one that is inherently a part of you and brings benefit, but you need to return to the thing you fell in love with. It’s like a relationship: you have to work at it.

Grieve when you need to grieve. Always find ways to improve your work. Reclaim what you are passionate about and establish the core values of who you are. Establish the boundaries of your creative life and keep the well full of ideas.

Only then will you live a creative life to the full.

Do you need to shut down your creative life and resurrect it?

* this is an edited version of a post that originally appeared at Write Anything.

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Reflection – Why Did You Stop Being Creative?

Posted on December 28, 2012 | 20 comments

As the year draws to a close like the end of a roll of toilet paper, I am running a series of three posts about the creative life: Reflection, Resurrection and Recreation.

Reflection addresses those who have stopped creative activities, while Resurrection (Sunday) addresses the need to stop creative endeavours. It all leads to New Year’s Day (Tuesday): Recreation.

Reflection – why have you stopped being creative?

Have you paused to ask yourself why you stopped being creative? Has your once prolific creative output reduced from a torrent to a dribble? Or is the well of creativity nothing but a cracked dust bowl?

Here are five reasons you have stopped being creative (and a plea to start being creative again):

1. Logic and Reason Replaced Emotion and Passion

Once upon a time, perhaps when you were a child or a teenager, you were passionate about creating something: you wrote or painted or composed or gardened. Whatever it was, you were passionate about it; you engaged emotionally with your creative process.

But that passion and emotion you threw into creative endeavours was replaced with the cold push of logic and reason. Artistic, creative people were typecast as overly emotional, passionate and highly illogical.

You were encouraged to put away childish things and focus on more adult pursuits. Emotions are considered primitive brain responses to be suppressed, ignored or detached. The Vulcans have a lot to answer for; I’m looking at you Spock.

Creativity gives equal balance the emotions and to logic and reason. Great art comes out of logical, reasoned thinking AND impassioned, emotive thinking.

What you create is a product of your logic, reason, emotion and passion. Tap into it again.

 2. Career Over Hobby

What did you dream about doing as a child? Did you want to paint? Design clothes or fashion? Did you want to write?

These pursuits are often considered a hobby, not something you make a career from. Too often creativity is seen as a hobby, a pastime to be indulged in during holidays or the occasional weekend. It is not valued as worthwhile because it at best it does not produce income, or at worst, it costs money, time and effort.

Instead our chosen career path dominates our time and resources, pushing creative endeavours to the periphery. The regularity of what we do for a living is a drain on our time and resources. If you have a family, there are still greater demands on your time. The chance to be creative is reduced, pushed out as a thing you do when you have the time or the inclination.

Being creative is something you make time for. It refreshes and rejuvenates. It is not a hobby to be done in spare moments; it is a vital extension of all facets of your life.

Rediscover the joy of your hobby.

3. Pragmatism Over Recreation

When was the last time you did something creative simply because it felt good for you? Or did you feel guilty, feeling like you should be doing something more productive? Have you put pragmatism over the need for recreation and rest?

We are obsessed with knowing, with proving something through empirical data and evidence, hypothesis and conclusion. We do something because it is proven to be beneficial or productive. Creativity does not easily fall into a pragmatic category therefore people are wont to give it up.

Creativity is not neatly defined by a formula or pattern. Creativity is a chance for recreation, to pause, to rest, to have a sabbatical.

Because you can.

Because you need to.

Your best reason to create is “just because.”

4. Utilitarianism Over Culture

In Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World” utilitarianism creates a consumptive culture: If it is not for the greater good, if it is not productive and beneficial, if it does not advance, it is not deemed worthwhile.

Culture is not measured in scientific or technological progress alone. It is measured in the greatness of art produced. Poetry, art, philosophy, literature, film, drama are the benchmarks of a culture. The paucity of good art needs addressing because we have made creativity and art something we consume, a fast food meal. Creativity can never be mediocre.

In recent years, especially in Australia, the government’s investment in creative activities such as literary awards has waned. Funding cuts to reduce budget deficits hit creative spheres first. They are deemed unimportant. (The rights and wrongs of this need not be debated here; there are other ways to fund creative projects).

The culture of a society, a community, a family and as an individual, is created consciously and unconsciously. If you do not participate and contribute to a creative culture, another culture will dominate.

Creativity can appear to be frivolous and wasteful, a solo production without discernible benefit to someone other than the creator.

Take a risk and develop a positive, creative culture. Start with yourself then extend it to your family, your community, your society.

5. Structure Over Boredom

Throughout our infant and adolescent lives, we are run by timetables. School provides a rigid structure, chronicling where we need to be at any given moment. A university timetable is less rigid, and a workplace gives broader latitude, yet the moments of our day are accounted for.

We fear boredom if our children are not engaged in a meaningful activity. Boredom promotes creativity (when was the last time you were bored), allowing the subconscious time to percolate, compost and rejuvenate. Stimulus is good for the brain but it also needs to rest.

Have you filled your life with so many activities you do not have time to rest, to be bored in order to be creative?

Schedule some down time to be bored.

Final Thoughts

Creativity is not a tacked on adjunct to life; it is an integral part of it. To lessen its role in our lives is to diminish the fulfilment creativity brings. Creativity brings life, that you may live it to the full.

Creativity is not self-centeredness but a means of recreating yourself and the world around you.

Will you dare be creative again?

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Tell Me Your Story

Posted on December 9, 2012 | 2 comments

“What’s your story, boy?”
“I don’t have a story.”
“Every man got a story.”
The Saint of Fort Washington

Three simple lines of dialogue.

A simple declaration by a homeless man: “Every man has a story.”

I saw this film, starring Danny Glover and Matt Dillon, many years ago in my late teens and the lines above resonated with me, deep in my spirit and in my soul.

I wrote down the lines in a notebook (which I still have). Deep in my spirit and deep within my soul these words planted a seed that is only now beginning to germinate and take root.

When I am asked why I write, this will be my answer: “Every man got a story.”

I wrote a manifesto.

It is my declaration of who I am as a creative person.

It is my declaration of who I am as a writer.

Towards A Creative Manifesto

I am a writer.

I write because I want to tell a story, but not just any story.

I write because I want to tell the story of those who are not heard.

I write because I want to tell the story of those who cannot speak.

I write because I want to tell the story of those who are disempowered.

I write because I want to tell the story for those who cannot.

I write because I believe that telling a person’s story is integral in understanding who they are.

I create art to speak into the darkness, that I may be a light for others to ignite their own flame and walk clearly.

Last night in a quick burst of ideas on twitter I threw down some words. It extrapolates further on my manifesto. I have compiled them here (with some editing for clarity and development).

People matter because every individual has the potential to be amazing in their own way. We ignore the everyday because we think it’s insignificant.

Instead we worship the grandeur of the successful and the famous. They are inspirational and we learn from them but it is little more than hollow idolatry.

The most influential people in our lives are the ones we know intimately because we’ve learned from their example, both in word and in deed, even when they are not looking. We have been mentored by their advice, corrected by their discipline and modelled our lives after theirs.

They are fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, cousins, friends, coaches, teachers. They are servants at heart.

And they are ordinary people.

But in their ordinariness, they have become extraordinary.

We have learned to listen to their story and recognise its value and importance.
Celebrate the little things people do. Believe in them. Support them. Love them.

For in doing so, we grant them dignity & respect.

I write truths about life through story by focusing on the little things, the seemingly insignificant: an argument before a family holiday (The Holiday), a gardening accident (Open Wounds), mental illness (Scar Tissue/Pieces of A Puzzle), cancer (The Naked Jacaranda), discrimination and disability (Give Me Your Hands), life expressed through sound (Sounds of the Heartbeat).

Simple truths expressed through story; parables and fables in their own way. It is an expression of loving your neighbour as yourself because story connects people.

Let me tell you a story.

But first, tell me your story.

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Don’t Hide Your Creativity

Posted on December 2, 2012 | Leave a comment

Don't Hide Your Creativity_0002

P.S. I have always thought that kitchen appliance stores are too clinical and antiseptic. The displays lack character: clean chrome or white surfaces with no hand prints smearing peanut butter or jam down the length of the fridge.

To be authentic they need to be decorated with paintings, cards, photos, bills and newsletters.

Anyone for a kitchen appliance store flash bomb?

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Why Writing is Like Building Furniture from Ikea

Posted on November 25, 2012 | 1 comment

Pick up the novel nearest to your hand you have read. Flick through it. You understand the plot, the characters, thematic concerns and the nuances of the language used by the author. It is said that everyone has a novel in them. Then you think, “I can give one of these novel things a crack. Doesn’t seem too hard.”

In your hand you hold a pen, ready to scribe your first novel. You know your story will unfold like a fresh bed sheet snapped out, floating down with delicate grace. The characters are complex individuals; the dialogue witty and full of sly observations; the plot is fresh and modern; the thematic concern touches on the toughest questions of life (but you have all the answers).

Sitting down you aim to start, but suddenly you are verbally constipated, stuck with the result of too much cheese and crackers. There are brief starts and squeezing out paragraphs with such force you could turn coal into a diamond.

So while it is said there is a novel in everyone, it is also said that no man is an island or that, all in all, we’re just another brick in the wall. And maybe that novel inside you should stay there because not everyone is called to be a novelist in the same way I am not called to be the Prime Minister of Australia (it would be a benevolent dictatorship, I assure you).

And it is because writing is difficult. It is hard. It is brutal at times. To understand how hard writing is, let me write you a simile.

Writing is like building furniture from Ikea.

In your hands you hold the instruction manual and emblazoned on the front is a catalogue image of what the finished product should look like. Caveat Addendum: power tools and me are mutually exclusive entities. I am useless with things that would validate my Man Card for all eternity.

Turning to the first page, the opening declaration states: “You must be two people to assemble this item.” (True story – was in the instructional leaflet for a lamp my wife and I received as a wedding gift).

So you lay out on the ground all the component pieces, checking you have everything you need. Then there’s the Allen key, the hexagonal tool of mystery. It is the key to success but lose it and you’re doomed to a lifetime of failure if you cannot wield it’s magical properties.

And so you begin. The instructions make no sense, you need the input of 6 people and certain words fly out of your mouth that would cause your mother to wash your mouth out with a wire brush and Dettol if she heard you.

People know to stand clear because the vein in your temple is throbbing and pulsating like a death metal blast beat, and one more inconvenient dropped screw or slipped piece of timber will cause your frustration level to become cataclysmic.

I am not usually a swear-y person, but this ad was too good not to include. Please excuse me.
http://madisonadblog.wordpress.com/2011/05/05/oh-sht/

The object before you takes on the appearance of Frankenstein’s monster; it is ugly, gangly, obtuse, imperfect, but dammit, you’re making it!

And yet you persevere; this thing will not beat you. Your aim is to give it life, and LIFE IT SHALL HAVE!

Finally, after hours of building, cursing, swearing, begging, pleading and grovelling, IT IS FINISHED. All the lines and angles are straight. Its beauty and function are unparalleled.

You did it!! (with a little help from your friends) And you don’t have a piece missing or a leftover screw.

And then someone asks why couldn’t have just bought one that was already put together.

This is why writing is like building furniture from Ikea.

With thanks to Jodi Cleghorn (@JodiCleghorn) and Monica Marier (@lil-monmon) whose comments I have appropriated.

Add your own additions to this idea in the comments below.

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