Creativity is hard to grasp, don’t you think?
It’s this strange, elusive, intangible thing that everyone talks about yet no one can really quantify. It must have been how people described gravity until a certain someone lied about an apple falling from a tree…
Does that mean that, somewhere down the line, someone will break the creativity code? A eureka moment that makes everyone understand just exactly what it is? Likely not.
The reason I’m writing this today is because, well, I didn’t have any better ideas. Sad but true. I remember when I was younger ideas would fall out of my head like rain on a cloudy day. It was easy back then to just sit in front of a laptop, focus your mind and just start typing. 9 times out of 10 it was trash. But that 10th time, that 10th time was almost always gold.
So that’s why I’m here today, typing out essentially nothing, other than my vague frustration at not being able to write anything even remotely interesting. It’s like a twitter post without the character limit. Useless and only of importance to the person writing it.
Okay, let’s just get out of the funk.
I can already sense my mind spiralling into a dull, self-deprecating slog of uncreative moaning.
And I’m definitely not the first writer to feel this way so I should stop trying to romanticise it. Cliché much?
At the moment I’m in Scotland, just outside Glasgow, with fields and neds as far as the eye can see. You know that typical writer scenario? Where they just want to get away from the noise of day to day life to find some peace and write their next novel? I guess to a certain degree that’s what I’m doing now. It’s a shame I just don’t know what I want to write…