Who are you creating for?

The answer will be different for each creative project. It may even be different at different stages of the same project.

While it sounds simple, I find that I routinely require reminders that there's a wide range of “audiences” that are equally legitimate. And I find that when I'm stuck creatively, it may be that my creative intention has gotten a bit muddled or murky.

The cultural conversation tends to focus on commercial creativity, where we really care about solving someone else’s problem. The creative processes of design thinking / human-centred design require a laser focus on the end user and a deep understanding gained from extensive research and uncommon empathy. An inspiring example that has always stayed with me is Doug Dietz's MRI machines. As a principal designer for GE Healthcare he was proud of producing cutting-edge diagnostic imaging equipment like MRIs. But he was horrified to learn that sick children were so terrified of going into the machines that they had to be sedated. So he transformed them into an exciting adventure.

The child in this MRI becomes an undersea explorer!

It can be such a beautiful thing to create something special for someone else. And, it can also be a straitjacket if it’s not the right fit for your project. Because trying to predict other people's opinions can be crazy-making. And because we tend to fixate on the wrong people.

Another equally valuable and valid approach is to choose one “ideal reader” or “ideal user”. When asked about her best advice to writers, Elizabeth Gilbert said:

I always tell people to choose one human being who you want to tell your story to. Somebody who you know, love, or admire—the ideal reader who you think your book will be perfect for, and then write the entire book as if it’s like a letter to this one person. It brings out a level of intimacy in the voice. I can’t write to a void or a demographic. I have to write to an individual.

This was helpful advice for me when I was writing my PhD dissertation. I realized that I had actually been doing the opposite, fixating not on the ideal reader, but on the worst possible reader. I'd been writing defensively. It was as if my dissertation was going to face a firing squad and I needed to do everything I could to make it bulletproof. No wonder it felt like a struggle. When I imagined a specific professor I knew who was kind and curious about my topic I was able to find my flow again. 

Then there’s the scenario where you become your own ideal reader. This was the advice of Dr. Kerry Ryan, the facilitator of a 5-week writing workshop for women I started last Saturday. She said, “Are you tap dancing for approval or trying to connect? To others, but, more importantly, to yourself? You don’t need to put your bowtie on and be fancy. Just write what thrills you”. 

When I first told my mom I signed up for a course to start a YouTube channel, her very first, very practical question was who I wanted to reach as my audience. I thought about it for a moment and had to explain that I was actually doing it for myself. I didn’t care if anyone watched it or liked it. In fact, it would be easier for me to create videos if I assumed nobody I knew would watch them. And indeed I told very few people at the time. Naturally, I hoped people would enjoy the videos and not feel like they were a waste of time. But my primary motivation was as a creative outlet for me. I quit after 12 videos. My maternity leave was over. I needed to finish my dissertation. It would be easy to label it a failure. But for me it was a resounding success. I learned a lot. I had so much fun. I’m proud of the videos I made. And I taught myself (again) that I can do things I never thought I could. 

I often come across creatives who say their breakthrough came when they gave up trying to please others and decided to only please themselves. It's an interesting paradox that often by focusing on what you want, you can strike a chord with others. I recently watched a documentary about Stan Lee, the co-creator of Spider-Man. He talks about how he was about to quit Marvel because he was so fed up with churning out the same old cookie-cutter comic books with perfect heroes. Then his wife gave him some good advice. She said, “Well, why don’t you create characters that you like? You want to quit anyway. Get it out of your system.” So he “forgot about the audience” and made Spiderman. He pitched it to his boss. But his boss killed the idea. It was too different. But Stan couldn’t get it out of his mind. So he published it as part of the last issue of a discontinued comic without telling his boss. The fan response was immediate. And the rest is history. 

There's not one right spot on the spectrum of creative intention. I think it's more about noticing where you are and if it's working for you. If not, try switching it up to see if you can find more freedom or more energy.

For me personally, to train myself out of "people pleasing mode", I needed to be in "please myself mode" for a while. But I think staying stuck in this somewhat self-centered stance is keeping me small. "Oh, it's just something I do for fun" can be dismissive. Maybe what I need to step into next is owning that there's a certain impact I aspire to have. A certain shift I want to help people make, a shift that really matters. Stay tuned...

Shifting seasons

The weather in London has been quite mercurial in recent weeks with highs ranging from 64 (17C) to 90 (32C). With last week's heat wave fresh in my mind, as I rambled through Victoria Park this morning I was surprised to discover that autumn is actually upon us.

This changing of seasons is inspiring me to revisit a seasonal approach to creativity.

We live in a culture where a static or linear narrative is the norm. Applied to creativity it looks like hunting for the right routines. A belief that if only I can find the right habits and stick to them, then my creativity will be constant. The internet abounds with information on the daily rituals of artists and writers and other creative routines. 

But to me, the quest for the perfect approach to creativity feels a bit quixotic. I personally find much more freedom with a cyclical, seasonal approach and its inherent variety and dynamism.

So what are the seasons of creativity? Here’s my take: 

Spring is a season of inspiration. 

That rush of excitement when you encounter a new idea. Spring is a time for dreaming big. For wondering what if. For playing with possibility. You may feel infatuated with your idea, falling head over heels in love. This season is about enjoying the energy of enthusiasm. Exuberance.  Ebullience. Spring creativity calls for amplification of your idea by drinking deeply from wells of inspiration but also for protecting the idea. Just as a seedling may be better off in the greenhouse until it grows robust enough to face a frost, your nascent idea may be better kept close to your chest before it's exposed to premature judgement from others.

Summer is a season of implementation. 

The season of summer is about making the commitment to a specific incarnation of your creative idea. It's about taking action and gathering the resources you need to turn your dream into reality. Lots of energy. Long days. Focus. Discipline. Momentum. The satisfaction of immersing yourself in the work of building something out of nothing.

Autumn is a season of iteration. 

Now that you’ve birthed your first draft, it’s time to get down to the meticulous work of editing and pruning. Separating the wheat from the chaff. It includes the sometimes/often painful process of soliciting and integrating feedback. Here the work is to distill your creation down to its essence. To trim the fat. Kill your darlings. Simplify. Polish, refine and add the finishing touches. A time for harvest, sharing, thanksgiving and celebration. Coming to completion and launching your creative output into the world.

Winter is a season of integration. 

Winter creativity is about taking time for rest and reflection. Reviewing the experience and deciding what went well and what you want to do differently next time. A chance to recharge. Find ways to fill the well. To nourish your creative spirit. To come home to your creative self. Some hiding and hibernation may be called for. Maybe even some creative comfort food. It may look like nothing is happening. But below the surface you are rooting down deeper, accessing new layers of nutrients. 

But what's so great about seasonal approach to creativity?

First, it helps us trust that every season is temporary. We don't need to make the seasons change. They will change on their own in their own time. For example, after the adrenaline rush of launching a creative output is over, it's common to feel a sense of deflation or letdown, what some call an "achievement hangover". Before, I used to treat that feeling as a problem to solve. What's wrong with me? Snap out of it! But now I see it as a natural progression from autumn to winter. From a seasonal lens it makes total sense that after the exertion of putting so much of ourselves, so much of our life energy into something, that we need to come back into balance with a period of rest and recovery. Of "doing nothing".

Before, in seasons of creative winter I would wonder if I'd lost my creativity completely. Where had it gone? Would I ever get it back? Now, I know that what appears dead is often just dormant, and I can have faith that spring will return eventually without having to do anything other than wait. 

It's also helpful to notice if you have a preference for or against a specific season. I love springtime creativity. For a long time it was hard for me to transition into summer. I would get infatuated with an idea but lose interest when it came time to actually commit. I've also struggled getting stuck in autumn, refining and tinkering and tweaking. What's unlocked the flow for me is to appreciate the beauty of each season. How good it feels to commit to something in summer and see it start to take shape. Or how good it feels to be done with something and feel space opening up for something new. So find your version of watermelon sharbat, spiced cider or peppermint hot chocolate to tempt you into the next season if you're feeling stuck.

Finally, a seasonal approach helps me to filter creativity advice. I find a lot of suggestions people offer for creativity are season-specific. If I'm in the editing mindset of autumn, it may not be helpful to force myself to sit and freewrite for 20-minutes a day whereas that may be just what I need to focus the frenetic energy of spring.

Another insight I had is that previously, I saw these seasons as progressing in a very specific cycle. But I recently realized that just as we (at least in London) can have chilly days in June and scorching days in September, it's possible to have a wintery day where I need some introverted rest time even if my creativity is overall in a season of summer or spring or autumn. My task is to toggle between the seasons as they show up. As Austin Kleon has observed: 

"Creative work has seasons. Part of the work is to know which season it is, and act accordingly." — Austin Kleon 

We can either align with the spirit of the season, or we can waste energy fighting against it. May you find creative flow and ease as you honor the shifting seasons of your creativity.

Relational creativity

This weekend I co-hosted an understated “hen do” afternoon tea for one of my dearest friends who is about to get married (congrats Kate Van Akin!). It was a delight to co-design the experience with another coach friend, Raluca Graebner, Ph.D., to make it tailored to what Kate wanted and who she is. We brought beauty into the space to soften the tone. We set a soft structure that interwove storytelling into the organic flow of conversation. We also led a ritual that celebrated Kate and sent her off feeling supported and loved. 

It was a meaningful creative outlet and gave me that satisfaction of “making something out of nothing”. But it reinforced something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. That there is a big blindspot in our collective conversation about creativity. 

We talk a lot about intellectual creativity - coming up with new and useful ideas, and a lot about artistic creativity - making unique and meaningful objects or performances. But creativity is not confined to ideas and art.

The truth is we can do anything in a creative way.

We can bring a creative approach to any domain of our lives: to our identity, our spirituality, our sexuality, our careers, our travels, our parenting. But the domain I want to focus on today is relational creativity.

There are three main ways that creativity shows up in the interpersonal domain.  

First, we can create communities. It is magic to me how an array of separate individuals can cohere into a community. At coworking spaces community managers take on the role of building that intangible yet essential sense of community. My friend Matt Trinetti co-founded with Parul Bavishi the London Writers' Salon which has been a hugely valuable community for me personally. They’ve created an inclusive, supportive and inspiring environment for anyone who has something they want to write. I think it's easy to forget that every community that exists was created by someone. 

Second, we can create experiences. Historically, an essential role for nurturing creativity was that of the salonnière - women who hosted carefully curated gatherings to exchange and cross-pollinate creative ideas. 

Kathy Bates playing the famous salonnière Gertrude Stein hosting Hemmingway and Picasso, in the film Midnight in Paris .

In modern times, there are many professions where creating unique and meaningful experiences is an essential part of the work. I’m not just talking about wedding planners, festival organizers or restauranteurs. As a part of the Mobius community I have the privilege of apprenticing in the art of facilitation from some of the best like Erica Ariel Fox, Mark Thornton, Mieke Jacobs, Andrea Winter and Gary Joplin who designed and delivered a creative, emergent and transformational leadership experience in Portugal I was a part of earlier this summer. During my PhD I saw professors like Dan Cable and Herminia Ibarra create transformational learning experiences in the classroom.

But we don’t need to be professional experience designers. Priya Parker’s book The Art of Gathering is full of ways we can make our everyday dinner parties, work meetings or community events into something truly creative, unique and meaningful. 

Finally, we can create connection. Rather than stay stuck on autopilot, we can bring a creative approach to how we interact with everyone from strangers to spouses. My friend, Georgie Nightingall does amazing work helping people to escape small talk and have more creative conversations. In my TEDx talk, I argue that if we can bring a creative mindset with a bit more curiosity, appreciation, vulnerability and engagement, we can create that very intangible yet very real thing we all crave called “connection”.

As a final inspiration, I recently came across something called Street Wisdom, which integrates all three forms of relational creativity. Founder, David Pearl designed a creative experience, a delightfully simple practice that essentially involves taking your intuition for a walk. But more than that, he created volunteer-led events designed to foster connection between strangers engaging in a shared activity. He could have stopped there, but he created a growing global community across more than 70 countries of people who run regular sessions. And there’s an upcoming global event on September 29th called the World Wide Wander, if you want to get involved and inspired and flex some relational creativity.

The freshness of the future

Creativity is essentially an exercise in optimism. 

If we're going to try to bring something new into being, we have to believe that the future can be brighter than the past (or the present). That positive, often dramatic, change is possible. 

And yet, the pull of pessimism/fatalism/realism is real. The news media offers a steady stream of doom and gloom. Many cultures fall into a "crabs in a bucket" mentality where anyone trying to climb to new heights is pulled back down. Even statistics can sap our optimism as the majority of new ventures fail within 5 years, the majority of manuscripts never get published, the majority of art never gets exhibited. And personally, we can fall into the trap of thinking that we're too old to make a major change. That our biggest changes are behind us.

This last one is what psychologists call "the end of history illusion”. The term was coined in a 2013 article where the researchers asked over 19,000 people aged 18-68 how much they had changed in the past decade and how much they predicted they would change in the next decade. Across all age groups, people “believed they had changed a lot in the past but would change relatively little in the future. People, it seems, regard the present as a watershed moment at which they have finally become the person they will be for the rest of their lives.” It's hilarious how for me, even as a coach committed to my own personal growth and that of my clients, this still somehow resonates.

In an interview with the NYT about the study, identity researcher Dan McAdams (not an author on the study) commented that, “The end-of-history effect may represent a failure in personal imagination.” I think it's partly that. Naturally, it's easier to remember the events of the past (that actually happened) than it is to imagine a range of future possibilities (that may never happen).

But I think it's also the obsession we have with seeing our lives as a story. Don't get me wrong, I love stories. Storytelling is one of my passions. I incorporate storytelling festivals into my holidays. I read folktales for fun. And I was thrilled when my friend Sotiria Kal invited me to give a guest lecture about story structure to her creative writing students last month.

As part of that lecture, I shared some research (from Dan McAdams among many others) that seeing your life as a Hero's Journey increases your sense of meaning. With the Hero's Journey lens, you see yourself as an active protagonist who experienced a major change in circumstances. Who went on a quest to achieve a goal. Found allies and overcame obstacles. Culminating in personal transformation and the ability to offer something of value to your community.

Rogers, B. A., Chicas, H., Kelly, J. M., Kubin, E., Christian, M. S., Kachanoff, F. J., Berger, J., Puryear, C., McAdams, D. P., & Gray, K. (2023). Seeing your life story as a hero’s journey increases meaning in life. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 1–84.

I don't dispute the findings and I would say that meaning is only one of many psychological reasons why the Hero's Journey structure resonates with us so deeply. There's a reason that Joseph Campbell found the structure repeated in thousands of myths from all over the world.

However, I'm realizing that a very real limitation of the story lens on our identity is that we're always at the end of the story. We're always the oldest we've ever been. Our life story is typically told in retrospect. (There are exceptions to this, especially in the start-up space where charismatic founders love to position themselves at the beginning of a hero's journey. Although this also has a dark side as fascinating research by my friend Susanna Kislenko highlights.)

With a story lens, the center of gravity is in the past. Story, on one level, is simply a chain of cause and effect. Stories give us meaning precisely because they're able to connect the dots in a way that makes sense. But precisely because of this linear cause-effect relationship, it can sometimes feel like our future "effects" are merely a product of past "causes". That our history determines our destiny.

But if we drop the story lens, what can we replace it with?

When I asked myself this question, this was the image that came to my mind:

Ash (2003), by Bryan Nash Gill, an artist who has a whole series of large-scale relief prints from the cross sections of trees captured beautifully in the sadly now out of print book "Woodcut".

A tree does not grow linearly. Its past is no prediction of its future. It will have years of scarcity where the rings are narrow and years of abundance where the rings are wider. Just because a tree may have weathered some lean years does not mean it can not grow quickly if the environment makes more resources available. A tree has a cyclical story, not a linear one.

This image helps me tap into a feeling of freshness about the future.

Circling back to the research on the end of history illusion. One way of interpreting the findings is that I'm basically guaranteed to be completely surprised by how much I will experience change in the coming years.

That feels exciting. Like the aperture is expanding so I can start to perceive the limitless possibilities ahead. With this optimism restored, I'm reconnected to my faith in the freshness of the future and my creativity is reinvigorated.

From @jeffkortenbosch

Friendship as a creative catalyst

At two-and-a-half, my daughter is just starting to grok the concept of friendship. It’s delightful to watch her figure it out. Out of dozens of children at the playground she somehow knows exactly who she wants to be her friend. And with very few words, she’s able to form a connection and start playing together. Magic.

It occurs to me that friendship, distilled down to its essence, is very simple. 

"I see you. I like you. Let’s play."

So it’s got me thinking about the power of friendship and how it can be a catalyst for creativity. I’ve come up with 5 roles that friends can play to facilitate and enhance our creative process. 

Which ones resonate with where you are on your creative journey?

1. Friend as muse. Friends can be great inspiration for a creative project. Currently, my daughter is loving this book by Eric Carle (of The Very Hungry Caterpillar fame) about a boy who goes on a journey to find his lost friend.

Tucked into the last page is this charming photo of Carle at 3 with his best friend. They lost touch when he moved away a few years later. But he always cherished this photo and she was the inspiration for him to write this book.

And, incredibly, after almost 82 years, they were reunited because of the book.

In another example, Ramy Youssef sourced part of the inspiration for his critically acclaimed TV show Ramy from his best friend since fifth grade, Steve, who has muscular dystrophy, and acts alongside Ramy in the show.

Do you have a friend who deserves to have their told or inspires you in some way?

2. Friend as playmate. Play is closely connected to creativity: the lightness, the looseness, the enjoyment, the energy, the openness, the immersion.

Several years ago I somehow convinced 3 of my close PhD girlfriends to try a Bollywood dance class with me. I thought it would be appropriate for beginners. It was not. We were awful. We spent the whole time trying - and failing - to keep up and catch our breath. It was painful...

And it was absolutely hilarious! We laughed so hard our sides hurt. I can't remember a time we had so much fun.

Creativity often involves trying something new. Trying something new is scary. Because we probably won't be good right away. But trying something new is much less scary with a friend. And if you suck, your friend still loves you. And at the very least you get a story you can laugh about forever.

Are you feeling a bit stuck creatively and feel like trying something new? Who could you cajole into stepping out of your creative comfort zones together?

3. Friend as brainstorming buddy. Idea generation is a critical stage in the creative process. Best practices of brainstorming include psychological safety - a sense that it's safe to share ideas without the risk of being judged. Friendship is the ultimate psychologically safe space.

Just yesterday at the playground I shared a new seed of an idea with my husband, Akram Dweikat, and he helped me brainstorm ideas of what it could look like to flesh it out. I left the conversation feeling seen and validated and amplified.

Are you in the early stages of a new idea and could use a brainstorming buddy? Which of your friends would best help nurture and develop the idea?

4. Friend as cheerleader/ critic. Maybe you don't need brainstorming support but you need some positive encouragement. When I was working on a screenplay several years ago I had one friend I would share my draft with first because I knew she'd just tell me it was wonderful and that's what I needed to hear at the beginning.

Next, I would share it with a different friend who I knew would give me really thoughtful constructive feedback, but who also wouldn't think any less of me for the shortcomings in the draft.

If you're lucky, you might find both roles in the same person, like C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. In 1929, Tolkien asked Lewis to read an epic poem he'd been working on...for the previous 4 years...without showing it to anyone. Lewis said yes and wrote the next day, "I can quite honestly say that it is ages since I have had an evening of such delight...Detailed criticisms (including grumbles at individual lines) will follow." The importance of this role to the creative process can't be overstated. Tolkien said of his friendship with Lewis, "Only from him did I ever get the idea that my 'stuff' could be more than a private hobby. But for his interest and unceasing eagerness for more I should never have brought [The Lord of the Rings] to a conclusion." Imagine a world without LOTR?!?! No thank you.

Who can you turn to for a little cheerleading/constructive criticism or both?

5. Friend as co-creator. My mind immediately goes to startup co-founders who started off as friends like Google’s Sergey Brin and Larry Page or theSkimm’s Danielle Weisberg and Carly Zakin. But there are many examples across disciplines as explored exhaustively in the fascinating book, Powers of Two.

During Covid, I joined with two of my close friends to design and launch a 9-month women's circle journey. It was such a rich and enlivening experience. It took our friendship to a whole new level. There was a real sense that together we made something much more magical than any one of us might have managed on her own. Doing it together also meant that the tasks were distributed and didn't become a burden for any of us.

Co-creating with friends means there's a baseline of trust, respect, shared values, understanding, admiration and communication. And it's a chance to deepen your connection with a shared meaningful experience and the satisfaction of putting something new out into the world.

Do you have a creative project in mind that you'd assumed you'd do alone? Might it be more fun and less stress to bring on a friend as co-creator?

So there you have it! Five ways friends can be a catalyst for your creativity. Which one(s) will you use to take your creative dreams/projects to the next level?

Rediscovering childhood treasures

My mom has been going through boxes of old things. In our recent calls she points the phone at objects and I tell her keep or toss. Yearbooks, keep. Second grade soccer trophy, toss. Love notes from college boyfriends, definitely toss!

But my heart skipped a beat when she held up this item.

I had completely forgotten about this book. If you'd asked me to list my favorite childhood books it would not have come to mind. But seeing it immediately brought back a powerful wave of feelings. Memories of unencumbered imagination, the adventure of discovery, the magic of storytelling and the ecstasy of immersion in a world of beauty and possibility.

My dad brought it with him on a recent visit but it got set aside and only last week did I rediscover it. I blew off the work I’d been planning to do that morning and just inhaled the book and its sweeping story and breathtaking illustrations. Pure bliss.

A parade as part of a festival to celebrate children in Dinotopia

There’s something so sweet about rediscovering the treasures of childhood.

It reminds me of the charming sequence in Amélie where she discovers a tiny toy box hidden behind a loose tile in her bathroom.

“Only the discoverer of Tutankhamen’s tomb would know how she felt upon finding this treasure hidden by a little boy 40 years ago.” 

In the movie, she vows to return the box to its owner. When he finds it, seemingly by chance, he is deeply moved.

You can watch the whole delightful sequence here:

I truly believe there is no such thing as an uncreative child. 

But I have met multiple people who claim to have no memory of creativity in their childhood. 

If that’s you, thinking about the childhood treasures you cherished might be a gateway to reclaiming your creativity. Helping you reconnect with that sense of awe, imagination, play and joy. 

• Was there a story, perhaps a myth or a fairy tale, that captured your imagination? 

• Was there a game you could play for hours and never tire of it?

• What was your outlet of self-expression?

This wall of portraits from the Young V&A might give you some inspiration.

If you can locate something, great! See if you can find a way to honor that child-like creative energy. Give it a little time and attention.

If you’re still drawing a blank, also great! It just means that your treasures are waiting to be discovered. Like Viking treasure buried to keep it safe, trust it will resurface one day. And stay curious about what it might be. Let your child-self surprise you. Know that your version of Dinotopia is out there waiting to be rediscovered. 

PS: If you're curious to learn more about the behind-the-scenes story of Dinotopia, check out this inspiring video from author and illustrator James Gurney's YouTube channel:

What to do when you discover your idea already exists

Has it ever happened to you that you’ve been sitting on an idea, like a proud mother hen incubating her egg. It’s something you’re really enthusiastic about bringing to the world. You just haven’t found the right time to launch it yet. But it feels real. And it feels like yours. And it feels exciting.

And then, all of a sudden, you come across something amazing and it looks... exactly like the idea you’ve been sitting on (wah-waaaaah). 

In that moment there’s a huge range of emotions that can inundate us: 

Shock. "How can this be happening to me!"

Anger. "They stole my idea!"

Jealousy. "That should be me!" 

Fear. "Everyone will think I'm a fraud!" 

Despair. "Now that it’s already been done, there’s no point anymore!"  

Shame. "If only I hadn’t procrastinated then that would have been me! I’m weak and worthless."

If this happens to you it’s easy to let your thoughts spiral in the direction of catastrophe. I encourage you to reach out to a trusted friend (or coach or therapist) who can help hold space for your vulnerability and fact check your fear. 

Then, consider these three points before you abandon your idea or drown your sorrows in a pint (of Haagen-Dazs).

1. See it as validation. You’re not crazy or on a wild goose chase. You’re onto something. Something real. Something valuable. See the fact that something similar exists and is succeeding as your proof of concept. The wisdom or truth or medicine in the idea is meeting a need. It’s resonating. And it's worth pursuing.

2. Use it to niche down. If we want to create something that connects with an audience we need to get clear about who that audience is. For most of us, our first answer is, “everyone”. It seems obvious how everyone would benefit from reading our book or using our startup. In a vacuum it can be hard to narrow down and find our niche. So, the fact that something similar exists can actually be liberating. You don't need to worry about the people who are reading that book or using that service. You're now free to focus on your people. The people who will resonate with your unique voice, who will value your unique point of view.

3. Shift from competition to camaraderie. It's natural to feel competitive when we discover someone doing something similar. We start comparing ourselves. Our insecurities get triggered. And there's a temptation to start tearing the other person apart in our mind like the jealous stepsisters in Cinderella. But that will only cramp your creativity.

Instead, try to see yourselves as members of the same community of people with a shared passion, a shared purpose. Social psychologists would call this seeing each other as in-group members rather than out-group members. You have a similar message you want to put out into the world. A similar problem or pain point you want to solve. But odds are one person can't solve the problem. In fact, odds are 100 people or 1000 people still wouldn't be enough to solve the problem.

So see it more like you're adding your voice to the choir. You'll do it in your way and be able to reach people others can't (see point 2 above).

I love seeing the way professional musicians or entertainers enjoy each others' performances. The way jazz musicians savor their bandmates' riffs. The way storytellers soak up the magic of their fellow tellers.

If you can pull it off, you'll have made the shift from indignation to inspiration. From your creativity frozen to fuelled up and ready to bring your unique vision into reality.

Creativity calluses

For the last month or so I’ve been playing around with an audacious idea. Could I design a video game? 

New tools are becoming available like Everywhere and Skybox AI that mean it’s not quite the pipe dream it might have been a few years ago. Although it’s still by no means a straightforward endeavor.

Concept art I co-created in 5 min with Skybox AI. It's super fun and you get 5 images free.

Unsurprisingly I’m noticing the voices of the inner critic and self doubt sprouting up. “Who do you think you are?” “Who gave you permission to do this?” “You’re too old, game design is for college students sleeping under their desks,” etc. etc. etc.

These are familiar voices that pipe up in an indignant huff every time I try something creative. But something feels different this time. Their voices are a bit muffled. A bit distant. Easier to tune out. 

I think I’ve developed a creativity callus. 

When we do hard physical labor it hurts at first. There is friction, pressure and irritation. But our bodies have a brilliant response. If we keep doing the same hard thing over and over our skin produces a callus. We literally get a thicker skin precisely in the spot where we need it.  

For example, if you want to play guitar for any length of time, calluses are necessary. One article says that "the continuous pressing down on the strings is like torture if you don’t have calluses to protect you.” (For some reason I needed a reminder that we need protection when we do hard things.)

Importantly, if you stop playing, the calluses will go away within a month or so and you’ll have to build them up all over again. This is why finding a consistent creative practice is so important.

I think so many of us end up in this cycle where we want to do something creative. We dive in. It’s hard. We stop. We wait a while. We feel stagnant. We crave creativity and we try it again. Try. Pain. Quit. Wait. Crave. Repeat. Quitting before the calluses form means we’re stuck like Sisyphus in a constant cycle of pain and pressure. 

For me, this is a whole new way of thinking about creativity and resistance. In general I value inclusivity and resonate with schools of thought that focus on health as wholeness. Jung tells us to integrate the shadow. Internal family systems helps us welcome home the exiled parts. Systemic psychotherapy shows us that many painful symptoms can be traced back to excluding people and the health of the system is restored when we make space for everyone. 

But there is a limit to inclusivity. 

It reminds me of something Oprah said. Her only regret from 20 years of doing the Oprah Show was when she did an episode with white supremacists. She thought that by opening a dialogue she might get them to change their minds or at the least expose their ignorance. But in the end she felt like she just legitimised their point of view by giving them a platform and the dignity of debate. 

I’m increasingly convinced that if we try to reason with our inner critic it just gives it more power. It feeds on our attention.

Fairy tales and myths also point to this wisdom. A classic fairy tale on this theme is Bluebeard. Two elder sisters reject the advances of a wealthy man with a strange blue beard, but the youngest sister accepts. He gives her free rein to explore his castle as long as she does not enter one forbidden room. When her husband goes away on business, she opens the door to find a pile of dead bodies of all his ex-wives. With help she removes Bluebeard, leaving him to be dismembered by carrion birds (there are many versions of this tale, some with different endings. I refer to the one told by Clarissa Pinkola Estes in Women who Run with the Wolves). 

In her commentary, Clarissa Pinkola Estes notes that Bluebeard represents the archetype of the Predator who cannot be rehabilitated. But rather than try to fight or punish the predator, she counsels it is wiser to contain it.

“Like a person who must be in an asylum, but a decent place with trees and sky and proper. Nourishment, and perhaps music to soothe, but not banished to a back ward in the psyche to be tortured and reviled...when we refuse to entertain the predator, its strength is extracted and it is unable to act without us."

The Asylum Gardens at Arles by Vincent Van Gogh (1889)

It also reminds me of the iconic moment in the Odyssey when Odysseus must pass by the Sirens. To even listen to their song means certain death. So his men put beeswax in their ears and keep rowing. But Odysseus wants to listen to the Sirens' song. So he has his men tie him to the mast so he can’t steer the ship off course no matter how much he wants to. This myth tells us we absolutely need to tune out certain predatory voices, like the inner critic. Or, if we want to listen to them, our commitment to our creativity must be sufficiently strong that we will not waver. 

Ulysses and the Sirens by John William Waterhouse (1891)

A callus is our body's way of tuning out the pain. Strategic, almost surgically precise, desensitization.

So we need to make peace with the fact that a certain amount of discomfort is simply part of the creative process. When we encounter self-doubt (or fear of failure/judgement, etc.), it is not a stop sign. Rather, the only cure is to keep going. And keep going. And keep going. And trust that you will develop a creativity callus. The siren song of self-doubt may never cease completely, but at least you can tune it out enough to stay the course regardless and continue on the adventure of reclaiming your creativity.

Inter-generational creative inspiration

I think it's a bizarre feature of modern society that we're quite generationally segregated. Isn’t it strange that we can go years of our lives without interacting with a single child? Or a teenager? Or an elder? I think this is a huge loss on many levels, including the impact it has on creative inspiration. 

Each generation has its unique vantage point on the creative process. Its unique wisdom about how to approach creative work.

This week we’ve been traveling in Italy. After a friend’s wedding in Milan we went to Como for a few days to bask in the beauty.

A view from the enchanting Villa del Balbianello

Traveling with a toddler is challenging to say the least. But one of the joys has been seeing how many strangers completely shift their state when they engage with Laila. 

It started on the tube to Heathrow. Laila was sitting on the seat closest to the door, holding onto the pole. A middle-aged South Asian man was standing on the other side of the glass partition, also holding onto the pole. Without any words he started a little game where they would chase each others' hands up and down the pole. It was very sweet. Laila loved it.

Later, Laila decided it would be fun to throw her stuffed cat up in the air. She has no sense of aim yet, so the result is truly random, and she found that randomness hugely entertaining. A few times the cat fell at the feet of a stranger who gently tossed it back to her. The joy on his face was shining. 

Italians love children and we had many more interactions like this on our trip.

It made me realize that our child-like joy is so close to the surface.

As adults we generally go through our days with our generic persona held up like a shield. Being serious, professional, matching societal expectations of how adults behave. But often all it takes to scratch the surface and let that inner child out is a tiny invitation to play. 

Play is a close cousin of creativity. They share the same root of intrinsic motivation -- doing something for its own sake. If you're feeling creatively stuck, introducing more play into your days is one of the best ways find your creative flow again.

And play is part of the creative wisdom of children.

The creativity of the child is playful, light and easy. It's all about what interests them, what pleases them. Their impulse of self-expression is uninhibited. 

Children see the extraordinary in the ordinary and can turn anything into a game. We visited the breathtakingly beautiful Villa del Balbianello and all my daughter wanted to do was build little "towers" with pebbles.  

When we’re feeling creatively stuck, calling on the energy of the creative child can give us more freshness and freedom in how we approach our creative work. 

Similarly the teenager energy holds the creative wisdom of challenging the status quo and breaking rules. Teenagers can see the failings of the adult world and have the idealism to believe a better world is possible. Teenagers also bring an experimental mindset, trying on different identities and activities and taking risks. 

So if you’re feeling creatively stuck, it might be helpful to channel your inner rebellious teenager to give you that boost of energy to break through barriers and push boundaries. Or burn it all down and start over.

Equally, I think we can take creative inspiration from our elders, despite the fact that we generally associate creativity with the young. Elders know that our time is precious and they've lost the illusion of immortality we have in our youth. Feeling the proximity of the end can be a valuable cure for procrastination.

Elders have a healthy equanimity. They’ve lived through the highs and the lows and the know the wisdom of “this too shall pass”. So they know that failure is not forever. The world will not end because your book proposal was rejected or nobody liked your post or the investor passed. 

Elders also have a stance of “zero f’s given”. They no longer care what anybody else thinks and are unapologetically themselves. I remember a funny moment many years ago when I was backpacking solo through Europe. I was sitting in the Jardin des Tuileries in Paris. A bunch of teenage boys were playing football, using 4 chairs as goalposts. An old lady just walked up and took one of the chairs. The guys offered some weak protests, but none of them dared approach the woman to try to get the chair back. She just didn't give a ****.

So if you’re creatively stuck it may be the energy of the elder that you can call on to give you a pep talk. “Who cares what anybody else thinks!” “What are you waiting for! The clock is ticking!” Or as Andy Dufrane says in The Shawshank Redemption:

I love this movie so much <3

PS - As a fun bonus check out this Saturday Night Life sketch that speaks to what can happen when we go too long without interacting with children.

Blessed be the rule breakers

This past weekend I was in Wales for a storytelling festival.

Storyteller Abbi Patrix sharing a beautiful story about why we tell stories on the opening night of the festival.

This was the 4th storytelling festival I've attended with my father -- we have a shared passion. And it was such a delight to share a bit of storytelling magic with my husband Akram and our daughter, Laila, for the first time.

But the story I want to share, a story that sparked some reflections on creativity, happened the morning before the festival started. 

The festival took place at a historic location, the beautiful grounds surrounding the ruins of Dinefwr castle and the stately home of Newton House. 

Newton House, originally built in 1660 with a gothic facade added in the 1850s.

Right in the entrance hall we saw a comfy sofa invitingly placed in front of a table of books for visitors to browse through.

Laila was immediately drawn to the sofa. Perhaps it was the novelty of a sofa with removable cushions (unlike the one we have at home). Or perhaps it was the inspiration of the Good Morning number from Singin' in the Rain (her current favorite video and one of my all time favorite films).

The iconic sofa from the finale of the Good Morning sequence in Singin' in the Rain (1952).The iconic sofa from the finale of the Good Morning sequence in Singin' in the Rain (1952).

Regardless of the reason, she kicked off her yellow wellies and climbed on the sofa to play.

Now, I faced a dilemma. On the one hand, one of my core values is independence of thought and I want to raise Laila as an independent thinker with a healthy degree of irreverence for unnecessary rules. (Coincidentally a characteristic that research shows is also highly conducive to creativity). 

On the other hand, I also want to raise her to be a functioning member of society with a healthy degree of reverence for rules that should be respected. Oh the paradoxes of parenting!

It seemed sensible to assume that in this 17th-century manor house they would have a “no jumping on the sofa” policy. It seemed like the kind of place where people would be told off for such shenanigans. I imagined Prof. McGonagall suddenly apparating and deducting 10 points from Gryffindor.

But Laila was having fun and there was no risk of damaging the sofa, so I said to myself, “better to ask forgiveness than permission” and let Laila carry on. 

Then in walked employee Steve. 

My whole body contracted and I scanned his seemingly friendly face for any micro-expressions of disapproval or disdain. 

But rather than dampen our fun he joined in and amplified the experience. A beautiful embodiment of “Yes, And!”

He smiled at Laila with a twinkle in his eye. “Do you want to see a magic trick?” 

He left for a moment and returned with a simple brown paper bag. He proceeded to play a little game where he would give Laila an imaginary ball and ask her to throw it and then he'd "catch" it in the bag. I managed to capture a small moment of their game and her giggles.

After a minute or two we thanked Steve and we went our separate ways. 

As we walked away, we were all glowing from the encounter. 

And I was overcome by a wave of deep reverence for the value brought to us by the rule breakers. The laughter, the lightness, the fun, the play, the ease, the enjoyment, the nervous system regulation.

It would've been so easy for Steve to simply tell us to get off the sofa. He wouldn't have risked anything. Nobody would have questioned his behavior or judged him in any way. But instead, he took the risk of playing while he was "on the clock". (Which I also take as a testament to the healthy work environment that made him feel safe enough to do so.) 

It's left me thinking about breaking rules.

I realized that breaking the rules is a key feature in most stories. Without some kind of transgression, many stories would never get off the ground. Little Red Riding Hood's tale would be terribly boring if she didn't disregard her mother's warning not to take the short cut through the wood. And arguably humanity would still be stuck in the garden of Eden if Adam and Eve didn't decide to engage in some rule-breaking behavior. 

I'm currently re-reading Ego and Archetype and in it Edward Edinger offers a Jungian interpretation of the story of Adam and Eve. He argues that breaking the rules is a necessary act of individuation, to "sacrifice the passive comfort of obedience for greater consciousness." With this lens, rule breaking is an essential part of personal growth. 

And it's true, our brains naturally push us to break rules when we're toddlers and teenagers. But it seems we otherwise generally settle into an attitude of obedience or at least compliance. Perhaps we need to give ourselves permission for another period of rule-breaking later in life. To shake off the shackles of all those "shoulds" we've accumulated. Or perhaps that's part of what a mid-life crisis is for? 

Regardless, I'm feeling inspired to reevaluate my relationship with rules. To continue to weed out all those unnecessary irrational rules that still lurk in my mind and can crowd out my creativity. 

What if I wasn't just a secretive stay-in-the-shadows, "these aren't the droids you're looking for", rule-breaker, but could become, like Steve, a joyful rambunctious irreverent easy breezy rule-breaker?

What kinds of creative concoctions could I cook up with that kind of irreverence for the rules? 

Stay tuned to find out ;).

What a legend! I love her so much.

PS - If you want to learn Steve's paper bag trick YouTube's got you covered.