The Mythical Solution To Our Creative Struggles
Some afternoon musings on finding the right tools, the right spot, and the right outfit to make shit go.
There's always something out there that will let me write. Better. More. Simpler.
It's an easy trap to fall into because it's not a complete fallacy. While the temptation to imagine some perfect future isn't usually helpful, there are external things that can help.
"Maybe when it's cooler, I'll write more. I'm always so much more creative when it's cool out."
That one doesn't work.
"Maybe I'll sit in that coffee shop with a pen and a notebook."
You know what? That might work!
Today, I was looking at a new magic typewriter. By magic, I mean it's beautiful. It's made from brushed aluminum, has a lovely e-ink screen, and there's wi-fi hidden inside, which syncs my writing to Google Drive. The keyboard is real, with honest switches and buttons that do things we usually do with a click.
It was also a thousand dollars.
But just imagine me! Sitting in the cutest coffee shop I can find (it has to be cute), writing on this beautiful machine as words pour out faster than I can type. Imagine the attractive people walking by wondering who I am, sitting there oh so calmly typing on a magic machine they've never seen before.
And maybe it would work. Perhaps something new (something better!) would come out of all this typing. Maybe the perfect setting, the coolest machine, and the self-absorbed romanticism of being a writer would mix into something transcendent.
Creativity is elusive, and we often speak of it as something external. It happens to us rather than comes from us. And if we create the right situation for it to arrive, we're in luck. And if not? What can we do about it? The fucker just didn't show up for our appointment.
And I had the right bloody machine!
Like most things in the world, balance makes all the difference. Add in understanding and the ability to separate an excuse from an invitation, and we might be onto something. The excuse says that once I have the right hat and shoes, I'll feel like a writer. The invitation reminds me that I can set myself up for success with a few simple (or not so simple) things.
This coffee shop, for example, is cute. The table wobbles, but my coffee came in a real ceramic mug with tropical fish printed on the inside. The music isn't anything I'd choose, and it's delightful all the more for it.
The people walking by and the chatter of the barista keep me here and in the present, and this little typing machine I have offers no distractions. It's not the bigger, fancier, more expensive version, but it's pretty damn nice.
Easier to carry around too.
Discernment is a challenging word, combining elements of wisdom and knowledge, both of which I often feel I lack. But at times, I can give myself enough space to sit with my choices and desires and discover the difference between an excuse and a distraction.
And on a good day, like today, I can move this and wiggle that until the door opens and the creativity that lives inside me can find room to breathe.
And if some of it happens to slip in the window, dip around my stool, and slosh its feet through my coffee before climbing into my lap, I'll take that too.