Carving out creativity from life

Or how creative endeavors cannot exist outside of lived experiences.

Hi friend!

How are you? What's new? I hope that you're keeping your head above the incessant chaos of life. (If you'd like to drop me a line and tell me how you're doing, I'd actually be really glad to hear about you!)

So this newsletter's a little meta. I outlined it a few weeks ago, right after writing the last one, when I sent out a prompt on my socials. One of the answers that piqued my interest was from a good friend who's asked, "How do you continue to show up with creativity when life is stressful?" Apparently, my three-weeks ago self had all the answers, and my now-self really, really would like to know what that other version of me was smoking.

As I sat down at my writing desk last week to tackle this post, I looked at my outline and... none of it made sense anymore. I didn't feel great writing about something I was actually struggling with myself. The advice may have worked for me three weeks ago, when I was in a different state of mind, but now? Not so much. (Fun fact: this is actually one of the reasons I rarely bank posts.)

For context, here's where life currently lies for me on the emotional plane: I am thrilled to be having the life that I'm having. It's the best I've ever felt in my life, the most free, the most myself, and I never knew these feelings were even possible. My old self genuinely thought that these feelings were reserved for some other people. Maybe for some monks on mountaintops in a distant land. Or like Rihanna. Just not me.

Yet, simultaneously, I'm feeling heavy grief that is seemingly sourceless paired with a deep, unsettling restlessness. The current of life is running a lot faster than I've been used to over the course of the pandemic, and the adjustment has been rough. Everything feels too fast, too furious. (And I'm no Dwayne "the Rock" Johnson.) And that alone can make me feel like I'm drowning sometimes. Life isn't stopping just because of this sudden wave of ennui. I still have to feed my cat, fold the laundry, clean the patio, check on my electric usage, go on little mental health walks, shop for mattress toppers, etc.

You know. Life.

And this reminded me of something. I've already spent so much time in this emotional landscape. Years ago, while at university, I was going through a pretty bad depressive spell. At the time, I had no idea what mental health even was, much less to know that I badly needed some external help and healthier coping skills, and (hindsight is 20/20) a lot less coursework piled in one semester while taking on a full-time workload in half the time. All this to say, what I remember from that time besides feeling awful is how I coped. It was in the little things. I remember thinking how odd it was that accompanying my mom to Costco or washing my face or watching a ten-minute comedy sketch really seemed to help. How could it help? My situation hadn't changed.

What I'm realizing now, years later, as this much-less-dramatic ennui has set in, is that back in my twenties, I'd forgotten a very specific truth: that this is life. Life really is failing a math exam and also going grocery shopping after it. It's feeding your cat and simultaneously worrying about how many more days you have with him. It is being very happy about your domestic life all the while grieving not having this happiness sooner. All of these make a life. My life, specifically.

Now add the creative ingredient to the pot, and then it really gets complicated. As creatives, we carry these ideas of how we should create with us through our every-day. We watch these movies and read these stories that really, really move us, and we're moved enough to want to move the rest of the world with us. There's really nothing inherently wrong with this; in fact, one of my favorite things to ask other creatives is to ask why they're doing what they're doing. Everyone who creates does so for a personal purpose.

The problem arises, I think, when we think of creativity as outside of our lives. I'm a lived-in example of this. For so long, my creativity skirted outside my actual life, and it was so insular. Granted, for the incubation period of a project, I actually think this is necessary. Creative ideas need to exist outside of our lives, imagined far beyond it (especially if you're writing spec fic, which I tend to do). But when the words take off from the page, the creativity needs to draw from the well of life that is being lived. And if there is no life to draw from, then the creative endeavor will flag. The endeavor itself might have a lot of potential, but without life breathing into it, it will seem one-dimensional and flat.

You know that tried-and-true parable that only you can write the story that you're going to write? I suspect that its true wisdom comes from the congruent statement that only you can live the life you're living. Our creativity comes from our unique experiences and our distinct lives. We bring our whole selves to our creativity, including our exhaustion, our stress, our worry, our sadness, our grief, our anger, our upset. My point is that we can't get to creating that larger-than-life, creative piece of art without bringing our full selves to the drawing board.

I'll be totally honest: I'm not really sure how to bring my whole self to the writing desk yet. It's probably the hardest thing I've asked myself to do, creativity-wise. I think these newsletters are my version of trying to do that, showcasing a glimpse into my workshop instead of just the pristine, polished work and sharing the imperfections (or as I like to call them adventures) of the process along the way. It's my way of sharing my life, my journey, a bite at a time.

So my very humble advice distills down to this: don't let your art live outside or even on the margins of your life. Living life first and creating second, without external pressures of Making It Big or constantly producing, is the only way I've found to sustain the longevity of creation.

Happy creating, friends!

Much love,

Yasi

P.S. If there’s a topic you’d like me to get into at length, drop me a line in the comments, and they might feature in future newsletters!