Tag: creativity

Addicted to the Flow

I sit in my writing chair (the loveseat near the front window) feeling uninspired. This doesn’t sit well with me, because I am addicted to the flow.

I’ve talked about flow before, but it’s worth mentioning again. Flow is a state in which a person is completely involved in what they’re doing. Time slips by and the person experiences mastery of the task, an optimal level of challenge and competency. Flow contributes to well-being through accomplishment and a state of near-meditation.

I get my flow from writing, and that’s what brings me back to writing again and again. If I never published again, I think I would still write because of the feeling of flow. It took me years to accept that experiencing flow was enough of a reason to continue writing.

I’m looking for my state of flow today, and I don’t know if the current project is captivating enough for me to find it. I’ll be looking for a new project soon, maybe the right short story.

A Good Day and a Shameless Plug

I finally got 1200 words on the work-in-progress written today at home. It doesn’t hurt that l got a venti flat white Door Dashed in the morning. I also listened to good writing music. The most important thing is that I had an idea of what needed to happen in the story.

I should point out that I am self-published and relatively unknown. The big thing for me is the writing; although I really want people to read my writing, I have not mastered marketing the books.

If you want to read some, there’s the fluffy Christmas romances and the more serious fantasy stories. And all of them can be found Right Here.

First SMART Goal: Writing

One of my goals for the New Year is to get back into a steady writing discipline. I began three books and finished none in 2022. I have been backing off on writing because I have not felt inspired. Yet writing is a way to open the mind to creativity, and to allow new thoughts to pass through. I have, therefore, dealt with a vicious cycle, where I don’t write because I don’t feel creative and I don’t feel creative because I am not writing.

I need to get the discipline and enjoyment of writing back. To make the goal SMART — specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time-bound — I may have to set my daily word goal for less than I do when I’m writing for NaNoWriMo. During NaNo, I write 2000 words a day; that may be too much when I need to take baby steps toward the goal. So my goal, as SMART as possible, is:

I will write 1000 words a day on some sort of fiction work either early morning or in the afternoon after work starting January 3 2023.

  • Is the goal specific? Yes. I know what, when, and how much.
  • Is it measurable? Yes. If I don’t write 1000 words by evening, I haven’t done it.
  • Is it achievable? I think so. 1000 words is a suitable compromise between zero and 2000. (To give you an idea of what 1000 words look like, the bulleted section you are now reading is 82 words.)
  • Is it relevant? To a writer, it is.
  • Is it action oriented? Yes, it focuses on writing.

Notice I set the date for today, so I’m going to have to write soon. I will write on the Christmas Kringle book unless one of the other two books — Avatar of the Maker or Walk Through Green Fire — tempts me away from that book.

Hello! I’m Back! (and a little about depression)

How long have I been gone?

According to my log of posts, I have been gone exactly a month from writing. It feels like longer. I need to write again.

Why have I been gone so long?

I could say “things got busy”, but that’s not the whole truth. I had free time, but I slept much of it. Writing my novels fell by the wayside, although I proofed a couple novels using ProWritingAid, because it was easy and didn’t take too much thought on my part. I dealt okay with routine things, but did nothing truly creative.

Photo by Keenan Constance on Pexels.com

I have to break out of the cocoon that depression wraps around a person, the lassitude, the negativity, the self-loathing. I’m working with my doc to remedy the depression on the medication front. The rest is up to me.

I was depressed.

I’m still depressed, but I realize that I have to reach out again to break out of my solitude, just in case someone responds. I have to put myself in the stream of humanity, so it reminds me I am part of it.

I have to go back to writing, to find my soul within the flow of words.

Hello again! Expect my usual content soon.

A Creativity Ritual

I need something to slap my imagination into working.



Life has been pretty staid lately. I’ve already complained about it — the lack of scenery, the lack of creative forces, etc. Time to not complain.

When my editing is over (at least on the current novel, which is three out of four), it’s time to spend some time in creative freefall.

This will involve some sort of ritual — A bubble bath, some rose-scented spray, a candle burning, some fresh paper and fountain pens. Free writing, possibly based on one of the novel ideas (pun intended) I have sitting in a drawer that I haven’t felt passionate about). Possibly based on short story ideas.

I need to do something besides edit, I think. Although I have another novel that needs a rewrite. Maybe I should go there. But I am so, so bored of editing that I think I need a recharge.

The Very Busy Caterpillar

I’m at the annual Association for Psychological Sciences conference in Washington, DC. It’s a huge, busy conference, but it’s also a huge, busy venue especially during Memorial Day weekend. And I want some writing time, and I want to go to the zoo, and the botanical garden (I’m saving the Mall for another administration) and I have homework to do.

I’m beginning to long for a staycation.

Honestly, my summers aren’t usually this busy. I still have to (religiously) schedule my one hour writing/editing daily just for the discipline.

But look at this presentation panel title!
“Tension, Conflict, and Paradox: The Science Behind Creativity”. Talk about dovetailing two interests — psychology and creativity! 

Well, off to — well, one of the gazillion things that’s on my calendar.

An Epiphany on a Long Drive

Yesterday, I drove past fields of white against a cold blue sky, scattered with wind turbines like ice giants. My playlist, a random mix dominated by the local bands I have known and loved over the years, lulled me into a sense of introspection.

When I was younger, I declared that local music was the salvation of the universe — said in a dry, understated tone for comic effect, of course. Nonetheless, I believed it. The bands I loved ranged from introspective roots rock to bagpipe jazz to Celtic rock fusion, and I loved their energy, their bravado, their desire to create a sound that wasn’t like every other band out there. At the same time I wanted them to become big enough so that other people could enjoy them, I feared what the corporate music machine would do to them.

I hit an epiphany somewhere north of Creston, IA, in the icy white afternoon through which I drove:

Why did I see self-publishing as different from what my friends in local bands went through? 

Why did I see big contracts as something that would kill my friends’ spirit and creativity, but I didn’t see the parallels in my own life?

I don’t know how ready I am for self-publishing, but I am beginning to see it in a different way.

The Art of Gorifying

Last night, I made shrapnel. Lots of shrapnel.

Missouri Hope is this weekend, and all my creative brain cells are occupied in making prosthetic plant-ons for casualty simulation. These are used to simulate impalements, and can be glued on someone’s skin with spirit gum. I learned this from Will Lanfear, who is a professional moulage artist in New York state.

I made a quart of special effects gelatin — 2 cups each of water and unflavored gelatin, 1/4 cup each of sorbitol and glycerin. It’s actually fun and soothing to make, and it can be frozen.

The loops of intestines are ready, and all they need are fake blood  (1 jug liquid starch, 1/4 cup red food coloring, 1 teaspoon blue food coloring).

Yes, moulage (casualty simulation) is gory. It’s a lot of sitting around the dinner table talking about the color of day-old bruises and how laminating plastic makes good glass debris. It’s googling pictures of hand deglovings (this is exactly what it sounds like) and third-degree burns, and then figuring out how to recreate those injuries. It’s buying a large wheeled toolkit to bring supplies in to the site.

It’s being nicknamed “The Queen of Gore” by a retired Army brigadier general.

Yes, it’s creativity.

Coffee in (not quite) Paradise

I’m sitting at Latte Lounge in Oneonta right now, sipping my husband’s caramel steamer and wishing we had a real (non-corporate) coffeehouse in Maryville. To be fair, we have close — the best Starbucks in the 50 states, attached to the campus library,

Yes, this is a bay window.

Oneonta still has a bit of a hippie vibe, with quirky coffeehouse spaces, the Autumn Cafe (a former food coop turned restaurant), and a head shop (the tacky price you pay for the health food stores and artisan delights). The summer traffic has gotten worse and the hotels get quickly packed due to the demand from club baseball tournaments, which Oneonta has capitalized on. The local artisan’s store features a writer who writes romantic suspense with a witch as the main character and publishes through Llewellyn Press (the leading pagan press). The attitude of New York State lends itself to diversity of opinion — “You have a right to live your life, and I have a right to live mine”. I suspect things still got heated during the last election.

There is a local Quaker meeting here, as there always has been, and I suspect that it (like most Quaker meetings) has very few attenders. But there is a Quaker meeting.

People are friendly here, whether from Upstate (the mostly rural majority of New York) or Downstate (NYC — or “The City” as it’s known here — and its suburbs). They can’t drive worth a damn, but they’re friendly.
You can learn a lot about a town by what it treasures. Maryville, MO treasures kids and church, which is great if you have kids and a church denomination to belong to. As a childless Democratic Socialist and pacifist, I don’t fit into any of the local churches. (The most liberal church in town will not take any constructive criticism, which is one of the things most apparent about Missouri — the attitude of “It’s ours, don’t question.” I was brought up to question everything.)
Oneonta treasures creativity. It has its own arts venue separate from the University. It has the aforementioned artisan booths, local writers, unique restaurant dishes, quirky coffeehouses and quirkier people. I would imagine that, with two colleges and a head shop, Quakers and witches and Unitarians, many families with children would find it a less than ideal place to raise a family. 
It will be hard to leave today, to get back to Syracuse and take the train back to the Heartland and then drive back to a place that reminds me too much of my hometown in Illinois, with its ugly secrets and its resistance to reflection and growth. But I have miles to go before I sleep, it seems, and that includes another year teaching at Northwest Missouri State University.
Which brings up a question:  How can I make my current home liveable? I’ve lost friends over simple requests to examine their use of words to be less derogatory of the neurodiverse. I have friends. and even though I worry they wouldn’t like me if they knew who I really was (the granddaughter of a witch, a Democratic Socialist, convinced that everyone will go to Heaven if there is a Heaven) but they accept my sense of humor and my bipolar disorder. It might help to find groups to connect to outside of town to make up for the lack of church affiliation and connections through children’s activities. I may have to drive 90 miles for the nearest Quaker meeting now and again.
But I will retire someday, and if we can find the money for a house (Oneonta has higher housing prices and older, bigger houses) we will settle down here.