On the elusive “good idea” and why it’s a trap:

 

I had it in my head that in order to create I first had to have some sort of magical inspiration, the fabled “good idea.” I call it fabled now because after many hours of hunting, I’ve determined it doesn’t exist. Sure, there will be ideas that are more appealing to you, other ideas that are more appealing to someone else, ideas you want to devote time and effort to and ideas that you don’t—but still, you can actually start anywhere, from anything, with a little bit of elbow grease. The “good idea” is a trap, making me think I can’t go on until I’ve got one, keeping me stationary. Yet, this idea is the thing that I privileged as the brilliant part of the process, and it was the very thing that I was least comfortable tackling. Initially, why did I pay so little notice to the execution? Why was I so very wrapped up in the idea? Style is not only just as important as content, it is probably more so. Great style can make any content lovable, and that, in the end, is the most intimidating—the true skill of the craft that won’t happen due to inspiration. The skill with which any idea is presented can make all the different in the way that any idea is perceived.

 

I went into this process with very, shall we say, stereotypical view of creativity—creativity as an elusive, ill-defined sort of entity that I had to either “just have” or chase and seek out, like once I caught it I would be able to keep it forever. I was attached to the manic, dream-like creative stereotype without even realizing it. It was brought to be attention that I was obsessed with the nature of the “idea” as the center of creativity, and I realized I had lost sight of what this was all about: the creative process. Not the movie or book moment of magical “aha!” inspiration, but the real, brain-melting, annoyingly frustrating effort that goes into the actual doing, and all of the thought and choices that go into the work after the idea, or before the idea, or in between ideas.

 

The idea… well, it’s hardly the most important part. What good is a good idea if it can’t be executed?

 

To create, I needed to get rid of my notions of creativity. I am, by practical definition, creating, and have always been creating. As I read my own fiction over with a red pen, I imbued it with meaning I knew I had never intended, and writing down those thoughts felt just as nearly creative as the “creative writing,” like I was making another story out of my own story, getting ideas from my own ideas. My brain can hardly wrap itself around the circles I’m writing myself into. So many sources told me to keep writing, keep reading, and to practice, practice, practice, and I did all of these things. I read and I wrote, and no, I do not think I learned to write better fiction, but I leaned myself a bit better—my habits, my biases in understanding, my approach, my insecurities—and learning all of these things must be crucial in creating anything at all.

 

So, Ken Robinson said that, “creativity, as I see it, is the process of having original ideas that have value.”

 

He also said, “It’s a process, not an event…it doesn’t have to be original to the whole world, but it certainly has to be original to you.”

 

In that respect, I think I can say I was, and am, and will continue to be, creative.