I was talking to someone recently about creative work and the challenge of cranking out quality material when you feel absolutely brain dead. As someone who writes for a living this can be tough, for sure. When I’m approaching that feeling I try to switch tasks. So instead of writing, I’ll transcribe an interview, for example. It’s a quick fix which I jokingly refer to as procrastinating from work by doing other work, but for the most part, it works. I also have a good idea at what time of day my creative output is stronger, so I try to schedule interviews and writing around those times.
Our conversation turned to “writer’s block.” I find that image to be creatively harmful, if that makes any sense. Blocks seem like an obstacle, and obstacles may loom large and seem insurmountable. Instead I prefer to think of myself as a cup or a vessel that needs to be refilled when I’m running low. (I have written about this before.)
Mark went out last night so I had the evening to myself. I ate dinner in front of the TV, put in a load of laundry, walked Piper… now what? I had lots of options. I could watch more TV. I could read. I could clean something. I could fritter away time scrolling my social media channels. Those things were the easy things to do but I knew that what I really needed was to fill my vessel.
So I picked myself up, changed my clothes, unlocked my bike, and took off. The wind in my face felt glorious.
I didn’t go far. I biked to the beach and hung out for a bit.
On the way home I detoured to Maplelawn gardens in Westboro, where I observed the last of the poppies. I had somehow missed them in their prime.
While I was there I spied a baby bunny spying on me. A wee mouse. A red-winged blackbird sitting on her nest. These sightings were my reward, I am certain. My cup feels a little fuller this morning.
