A creative block is not just an inability to create but an inability to consume. To create you must consume. It doesn’t matter what it is, but it has to be something. Recently, I have been unable to do either. The hum of life and responsibility is too loud. A TV stand begs to be attached to the wall. A unicorn tear apart cupcake head insists on being made. A pair of cafe curtains need to be sewn, to obscure the direct view into the bathroom of the house opposite. Then there is all the other work; leads to be followed, money to be made, bills to be paid. These necessary parts of being an adult have a habit of creating a fog and a fuzz that can make creating seem impossible.
I began by attributing my lack of creativity to the Easter Holidays, which presented a lack of childcare, and a period spent cat-sitting and being up-ended from my daily routine. It will be better when… I told myself, as I have many times, expecting the landscape of my mind to change at the same pace as that of the real world. But the Easter Holidays came and went, and nothing changed. Reality TV does not help, nor does Instagram, or the background buzz of a podcast whilst doing something that could be done in silence. But these things are all so tempting, and so easy, and they call to me when nothing else does.
Of course, some of the low level hum of adult life is not unpleasant. Succeeding at my fourth attempt at putting the TV stand on the wall was a huge victory and made me the proud owner of an adjustable wrench. The tear apart unicorn birthday cake required four batches of cupcakes and a sickening amount of butter; but it made my daughter happy. Sewing the curtains was tactile, and practical, and now the light in the room - which is best in the morning - is soft, and gentle and beautiful. These tasks are not necessarily uncreative, but they are also a distraction from me, and the world inside my head, and the things I have to say and often, need to say. In times like these, I don’t just not want to read, or watch, or see, or listen; but the very idea of it seems impossible. And then, I am closed to new thoughts and rediscovering the urge to create feels impossible too.
The other day, I let my phone run out of battery early in the evening, and I decided to pick up a book after a long period of not reading. The effect was quite sudden. A light was switched on. I often forget that it is necessary to set the bar low, although sometimes we must - because to be open to something is better than nothing. Try to read, just a page. We aren’t in school any more - you can give up on the book if you hate it and try something else. Try to listen to music. It doesn’t matter if you’ve heard it all before, or what anyone else thinks about it. Sometimes you can’t really explain why things don’t work and then they do; one moment, everything is shut and the next, here I am, writing this. Most things in life are temporary; we have to enjoy them whilst they last, or remind ourselves that they cannot and will not endure forever
.(a photo taken inside my flat earlier this year)