I’m not feeling very creative at the moment.
It’s been a tough few weeks at home, the sort of exceptional and unpredictable moment in your year where everything’s hard, where your daily energy feels less like that of an Olympian ready to run up a mountain and more like someone who accidentally stuck their finger in a light socket. My three kids right now are equal parts wide-eyed hummingbirds tirelessly flapping around in wonder and city-smashing anime villains trying to destroy that which they can’t control. I love them, AND also it’s a lot right now. Sleep has been lower than normally prescribed for mental acuity, stress higher.
Meanwhile, my task list is like one of those relighting birthday candles you use to trick kids at birthday parties. Anytime you blow it out, it pops back on. This morning, I realized I have to go grocery shopping again, even though I went yesterday and the day before. What sort of evil magic has fallen on my kitchen whereby everything I buy seems to dissipate so quickly? My wife astutely remarked how that sounds similar to the creative process — you have to do “all the things” to make something great, only for your reward to be doing all the things again the next day. Fair point.
I take some comfort in knowing that I’m not alone in this feeling. We all experience moments like this — some of us more frequently, some less. I’ve heard others (especially parents) refer to it as Survival Mode, the feeling that you’re just about hanging on with one sweaty hand to a sickly little root you managed to snag on your way over the cliff edge. Unfortunately, Survival Mode happens sometimes. You just gotta accept it.
Funnily enough, I’ve had multiple experiences of Survival Mode. There are times in my life when I’ve been able to use it to fuel a sort of manic creativity, for whatever reason. My music has become a cozy place to huddle up away from the stress, or an outlet for siphoning off some of that light-socket energy zipping around inside of me.
But this time isn’t one of them. For whatever reason, my motivation is down, my ideas are as sickly as that cliff-edge root I’m hanging on to, and I’m struggling to make real progress on things.
So what do you do?
I’m taking inspiration from a few places this week, as I think about this. First of all, I’m channeling the energy of Dougal Robertson who survived 37 days at sea with his family in a life raft: “Of course we’ll make it!” (Shout out to Austin Kleon’s newsletter for the recommendation).
Second, I have a sort of mantra I like to remember in moments like this: “Give it time.” Actually, one of the essays I’m most proud of is this one about how time can solve so many of our puzzles, our frustrations, our pressures, and our challenges. Time rounds off the pointy edges. Even if things are hard right now, they won’t be forever, and that’s a helpful mindset.
Finally, and maybe most importantly, I’m going to scale it back a bit. In boom times, a business will chase new opportunities and take big risks, while in recessions, they’ll look to cut costs and re-focus on the core promises they’re making to customers. The same strategy can work for musicians and artists.
Right now, I’m trying to design a number of new courses, organize a full day-long education festival, produce two new singles, develop a new piano-based album, work on some new film scores, and keep my daily improvisation and writing practices going. I like being ambitious with my goals, especially over the course of a quarter or a year. I get excited about big creative projects.
But it’s hard to see the beauty in the clouds when you’re dangling off a cliff. The best thing to do is find a good foothold you can use to push yourself back up onto level ground again. Because of that, I’m taking my most ambitious goals and placing them next to the plant on top of the piano where I can see them waiting for me, but also know I don’t have to engage with them right now.
Instead, my goals this week are much simpler, starting with spending an hour with the piano this week. Because I’m not feeling super-creative, I’m mostly focused on time and effort, rather than output. Rather than pushing myself too hard, I’ll start by going over old ground — playing songs I already know and doing exercises I’ve done before. The goal is simply to find that foothold I can use to lift myself up again. A little momentum can be a powerful thing.
Of course I’ll make it, as we’ll all make it in times like these. De-pressurize the situation, start small, and gradually find your way back to where you can get lost staring at the shapes in the clouds again.
What about you? What strategies do you employ when you’re in Survival Mode?
Happy climbing,
Ian Temple
