Kristin Eckhardt O'Ferrall
Getting Back to Creative
This blank page is awfully, um, what am I looking for? It’s awfully, um, BLANK.
It’s just staring at me — how rude! — with no expression, no feeling.
It’s as if we are having a stand-off and, well, apparently I am losing.
It’s just staring at me — how rude! — with no expression, no feeling.
It’s as if we are having a stand-off and, well, apparently I am losing.
I used to write all the time as a kid. It wasn’t as if I really had to try. I never forced
myself. No one told me to write. I wrote because the words were already in my head
and I had to write them down to clear it. Poems especially, they would just come to me.
A journal and pen were always beside my bed because during the night, poems or random
thoughts would appear and I would have to turn on the light and jot the words down
immediately.
myself. No one told me to write. I wrote because the words were already in my head
and I had to write them down to clear it. Poems especially, they would just come to me.
A journal and pen were always beside my bed because during the night, poems or random
thoughts would appear and I would have to turn on the light and jot the words down
immediately.
Throughout my adolescence and into college, writing was my form of relaxation. I was allowed to reveal my thoughts without judgment. I was allowed to call someone an asshole without negative repercussions. I could express my insecurities without
being found out. These were my private moments. My private thoughts. For me and my eyes only.
being found out. These were my private moments. My private thoughts. For me and my eyes only.
So, how is it now that I am writing a not-so-private blog? Well, for starters I am using this blog as a challenge to myself. You see, I am out of practice. Using the excuse “life got in the way,” I simply stopped writing. Writing soon felt like a frivolous waste of time and in all honesty, it just didn’t seem very fun anymore. From time to time, I would try to write. But nothing would come. Every word seemed forced. Even fake. I always prided myself on being a creative person, but over the last 15 years, it felt as if my creativity muscles were dried up.
And then it dawned on me. Creativity is a muscle. Sure, it is inspired by passion but to obtain it, we must be open. We must stop, listen to our hearts, head, emotions, and feelings. We must breath. And, did I say STOP? Yes, we must stop and listen to the words. Trust them and not quickly disregard them as nonsense.
Right now, I know that I want creativity back in my life. I know that I want to pursue this new-found desire. I have decided to start relaxing (giving myself permission to relax and write). This time however, I feel compelled to help myself AND help others get BACK TO CREATIVE. I am just going to be open, stay diligent, and see where this takes me.
I know that I must work out those creative muscles, and in order to do so, I must write daily. I must stay at it. So this is my story (my journey) of how I am getting back to creative. Maybe this blog will serve a higher purpose. Maybe this blog is just simply medicine for myself. I do know that ideas are coming back at me. I am writing. Hear me roar.
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