Blank

Yesterday, I finally received the news that my dear friend was out of danger and embarking on the long road to recovery. My brain, which up until that moment had been a flurry of worry, was able to empty itself of chaos. Unfortunately, it jettisoned everything else too.

I floated through the day until I reached bedtime and realised the hours I’d set aside to prepare today’s writing were gone and worse, I had no idea at all what to compose. Turning to my husband, I asked what I should do. ‘Write about writer’s block,’ he said and I thought, yes, I can do that.

It wasn’t until graduate school that I learned about composition and that it was more a craft than the romantic notion of inspiration set down on paper. There were ways to create creativity. There were games you could play; tasks you could set yourself that would make composition easier.

I sincerely wish I had learned this earlier, but I kept reading and acquiring this advice and passed it on to my own students.

Facing the blank page

I’m sure that we all remember the dread of facing a blank page days or hours before an essay or report was due. Most of us will find all sorts of jobs that need doing: sorting paperclips, making more coffee or tidying the bookshelves. Anything, anything is better than facing the wall of white that needs filling. This is as true for professional writers and artists as it is for the rest of us.

But the professionals will find strategies to get them started. They are myriad, so I will only mention a couple that work for me here (and which I have employed to write this).

Be reassured: everyone finds creating hard at some time or other. (Occasionally, the gods smile on us and give us inspiration, but it is a gift to be enjoyed, not relied upon.)

So, how do we start?

Finding a way in

Most of us work best in a visual format, which is partly why writing is so hard. A great idea is to harness our visual skills with our writing ones. My preferred method is the spider plan, though you may prefer clouds or mapping.

Spider plans (add googly eyes if you wish) aid both with creative thinking and structure.

A spider has eight legs and often searching for ideas to fit those final one or two, prompts us to think of something a little more unusual. (Baby spiders drawn from one of the topics takes us deeper still). You can add more or less, but eight fully developed paragraphs is sufficient for most writing tasks.

My topic was the blank page and I just jotted down all my thoughts on that. Going clockwise, it works as a plan.

A blog requires images too, so I made those. I also put in the headings that I intended to use. The worst part was over – the post page was beginning to fill.

Getting into the habit

Few of us write much any more. We email, we text, we call. We seldom write structured letters or longer pieces, so when we do have to write, it is strange and hard.

Writing, like anything else, improves with practice and, as someone who was chronically afraid of writing, I have found the practice of it the thing that makes it now a pleasure. Each day, I try to keep my journal up to date. No-one but me will read it, so if it is gobbledygook, who cares? Occasionally, I might write something good. If nothing else, I have a record of my time on the planet.

Writing daily, whether it be in a journal or a more expansive email to a friend, allows us to keep our writing muscles strong. We are using and thinking about words and how they impact others. We listen for rhythms, for awkward phrasing and repetitions. We try to make our meaning clear and hopefully a little entertaining. We are considering our audience.

What holds true for writing is equally true for art. Artists too struggle to begin. They too must practise daily. Art students keep an art journal for their teachers; professionals create their own prompts.

The Internet is positively awash with art challenges. Perhaps you are asked to work in a particular medium every day or only use one colour or respond to a visual or verbal prompt. They are all ways in and an opportunity to be part of a community.

Or you can start with something random and just make a mark. I love curved lines, so that is what I began with. Then I added some simple branches – is it a leaf or a feather?

Start to play

And once those initial lines are in, I’m hooked. What if I added lots of colour in stripes? What if I added coloured patterns instead? In a few minutes, I’ve initiated my curiosity and more importantly, the desire to continue.

Since my blog was needing to be written, I had to stop there. But if I have time later today, I might work on them further. And even though they are just playful doodles, they are illustrating how colour works together, how certain patterns sing. When you create something, you inevitably learn something too.

There is no muse, just you

Unfortunately, the mythical muses are just that – a seductive fairy tale which fools us into thinking creativity is more magic than graft. Yes, sometimes we may feel like inspiration has come from the divine, but dig a little deeper and you will find your mind has been searching and planning all along. There are no short-cuts.

There is only our willingness to try and fail and try again. What prevents most of us from fulfilling our creative potential is not laziness or lack of talent but the sheer terror of laying our souls on the page/canvass/fabric and being found wanting.

And yes, it is terrifying. Every week, I fear that I will lose all my readers, that they will yawn and leave after the first paragraph or not read my post at all. Creativity involves a huge amount of risk. Yet risk is what gives us the thrill when we occasionally get it right.

Ironically, the only thing that can help us get over our fear and improve our offerings is to keep honing our words and sharing our vision.

What would you like to create? Now is the best time to start.