Unleashing the creative monster 🪄
The joys and consequences of pursuing our ideas, and the wisdom we gain through the process.
“What are you working on these days?”
It’s a common question in creative circles that provokes a range of responses. It’s asked with good intentions but can inadvertently open up a floodgate. You see, creative people can be protective of their ideas, especially when those ideas are in a phase of nebulous, free-floating considerations. A creative slump might spur us to feel the pressure of not creating, of lacking inspiration. Gosh, am I falling behind the pack!? Even a well-formed idea might crumble to pieces at any time — Life gets in the way, funding falls through, we’re hit with a health crisis — and we feel it’s best not to divulge too much until the project has neared its completion. And then there’s this feeling, when we’re in the flow, that if we talk about the project we’ll somehow break that magical, beautiful spell.
And yet, the sharing of our ideas can help us work through the sticky stuff, make new connections, and consider angles that have previously eluded us. Camaraderie can give us strength. I also believe that creativity breeds creativity, that people feel inspired to create when they see others investing in their craft. But recently I’ve been reminded of what can happen when you do share an idea. For me, it was the feeling that I’m handing over something precious that the other person is now also responsible for. Don’t drop it, I think. In the sharing, there is a call to safeguard and support, to help shoulder the burden and challenges that the creative process holds for those who bring their ideas to life.
Last weekend I presented a writing workshop in Vancouver titled, Transforming Adventures into Impactful Stories. The Q+A at the end led to a thought-provoking conversation around ideas, inspiration, and how to create time for our projects. How do you know which ideas to pursue? How do you create space for larger projects? What if I put in the work but ultimately let myself down with the results?
I did my best to answer by telling my students something I had not been told when I was a budding creative, with dreams and goals, but no sense of what it would require to create a body of work. In the back of my mind, I was reminding myself not to crush anyone’s dreams (akin to that scene from The Truman Show wherein the teacher says to a young Truman, eager to be an explorer like Magellan, “Oh, you’re too late. There’s really nothing left to explore!”) But if I could go back and coach my 21-year-old self, I might have told her to have more discernment about my creative projects. Heck, I could have said this several times in the last decade. As I mentioned to my students at the workshop, when you do choose “the One” — an idea that will inevitably snowball into something much bigger and more involved than you could have ever imagined — you’re simultaneously birthing a mini monster.
It will eat your time, energy, mental bandwidth and, at times, sanity. Maybe health, if you’re not careful.
And while this is a cautionary tale, I’d like to impart some lightheartedness about it. This little monster may not be a menacing, alien creature. It can be silly, like Cookie Monster. Its job will be to distract you, tease you, and make work for you. If it’s not spreading cookie crumbs for you to clean up, it might toss the whole cookie jar right off the counter. The point is: when we home in on an idea, we must be ready for it to take over in ways we can’t see from the outset.
It’s as though we’re meant to be blindfolded going into life’s greatest trials and accomplishments. Otherwise, would we ever dive into anything so life-changing and meaningful?
Of course this is also the irony: even if we know we’re getting into something big, we’ll never know just how complicated and all-absorbing that project will become.
I often compare it to climbing a mountain or giving birth (you pick!); if we knew how much we’d go through, and felt at the outset the full scope of pain and discomfort, as well as the ensuing joy and relief, we’d probably melt right into our shoes. It’s as though we’re meant to be blindfolded going into life’s greatest trials and accomplishments. Otherwise, would we ever dive into anything so life-changing and meaningful?
And this takes me right back to “What are you working on these days?” When my student asked me how I know that the spark of an idea is the right one to follow, my advice was to first let the idea marinate for a long time, or as long as possible. Ultimately, I think we know in our gut if it’s the right one — or that, at the very least, we can explore what the next steps might look like. As we nudge it forward, we test it, adjust it, and tinker. The best projects unfold organically.
When we’re ready to share, it’s important to tell the right people. Keep the circle small. Tell people who can handle the idea delicately, and explore it creatively. Invest in relationships with non-competitive creative colleagues who can hold that idea with you and help you carry it to the finish line, even if their involvement is nothing more than that mutual Knowing that the idea has now gone from intangible to tangible, and Cookie Monster is spreading his crumbs all over. Lord, help us.
Be ready to prioritize your time and make sacrifices. Retire the relics from an old way of being and creating, and make way for whatever the new project will need. Your time must be protected and used wisely. It is the only way to take your idea from the ethereal world of the mind and transform it into something that others can interact with.
And might you let yourself down in the process? What if you create the Thing and you’re disappointed by it? Or, what if you’re worried you can’t top it — the curse of first-time best-sellers?
You let go. Now, you can put down that precious object. From here, others might drop-kick it or they might place it carefully on a pillow. This is the risk we take when we create, even if it takes us 1, 5, even 10 years. The reward is, we took the seed of an idea and grew it into being. We gifted a piece of art to the world that no other human could have made. We contended with the creative monster and came to be more discerning through the process. We built a foundation and we’ll keep building on it.
And when the next idea comes along, we’ll have that newfound wisdom, in hindsight. We’ll know, beyond a shadow of doubt, what the last one required of us.
Meghan J. Ward is an outdoor, travel and adventure writer based in Banff, Canada, a Fellow of the Royal Canadian Geographical Society, and the author of Lights to Guide Me Home. Meghan has written several books and produced content for films, anthologies, blogs and some of North America’s top outdoor, fitness and adventure publications.
What’s caught my attention lately… ✨
This podcast episode brought me so much joy and insight: Adam Grant’s interview on Rethinking with the author of The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, John Koenig — so much so that I bought the hardcover copy of the book. The episode (and book) is about emotions you’ve felt but never had names for — and Koenig’s effort to create new words that capture these aspects of the human experience.
Check these out too… 🙌
Lights to Guide Me Home - my memoir (reviews welcome on Amazon and Goodreads)
The Wonders That I Find - my children’s book
My Email Newsletter - updates about my books, projects, and 1:1 coaching
I am an eight-generation Canadian and a descendent of British, Scottish and German settlers living, working, and recreating outdoors in Treaty 7 Territory — the homelands and gathering place for the Niitsitapi from the Blackfoot Confederacy, including the Siksika, Kainai, and Piikani First Nations; the Îyârhe Nakoda of the Chiniki, Bearspaw, and Goodstoney First Nations; the Tsuut’ina First Nation; the homeland of the Métis and Otipemisiwak Métis Government of the Métis Nation of Alberta, and many others. I am doing my utmost, both personally and professionally, to deepen my understanding of the history of Indigenous peoples and the impacts of colonialism — past and present.
Really good wisdom here Meg.
Thank you for this Meghan. Such helpful wisdom - I've always been so inspired by your see-through-it-ed-ness/willingness to stick with the monster.