My friend Jason calls this “a dark incantation that guarantees that I will 100% not do more of that.” Cynical, perhaps, but not inaccurate. It’s like a doomseeker circuit that’s always present in our psyche. We clearly have the power to recognize values that lie outside of our everyday behavior, but change is freakin’ hard. Even with little things.
Lately I’ve been buried. TsunamiCon is looming like it’s namesake against the horizon, an inescapable storm that requires a shit-ton of preparation. It’s a storm I know well; the preparations are rote, carved into the soft tissue of my brain and fueled with caffeine and determination. It’s worth it, of course, but it’s a solitary pursuit. Particularly since I moved 8 hours away from my support system. I navigate those currents with a deft hand, but the hand still grows weary.
I have other pursuits, of course, but many of them grow stale during this part of the year. At least once a week, I open my manuscript for the sequel to Shadow of the Spire and stare at the page. I pick up my guitar for a few minutes nearly every day, but I’m not writing anything new. About the only creative outlet I navigate successfully every week is prepping and running tabletop RPGs for me friends. Admittedly, that’s something I’ve done nearly every week for almost 40 years, so it’s kinda like breathing. I couldn’t shut that part of my brain off if I wanted to.
Creative endeavors can be heavily affected by exhaustion or depression. It is remarkably difficult to find the energy and inspiration to conjure new ideas and expressions from the ether when your brain just wants to curl up in a corner and ignore the world, and if you are a creative by nature then this failure perpetuates a cycle of failures that makes it even harder the next time. It’s a death spiral that can’t be easily abandoned, and even small bursts of creative expression have little effect on the overall conundrum.
So what we have is little things. Tiny behavioral efforts that may not feel like much but break away from your S.O.P. And they don’t have to be the same things… you have to avoid pressuring yourself to meet an impossible standard. It’s like cleaning out your closet or wiping down the kitchen counter suddenly becoming a New Years resolution. Do it once and be happy, then look for other opportunities to break the cycle. And if you can find a way to hook into something that inspires you, ride the high and see if you can create a new pattern of behavior. But keep it small. Don’t punish yourself if its falls flat… it’s a little thing, not an impingement on your character.
I had said to my friends: “Actually find blogging very therapeutic. I need to do more of that.” So here I am. Keeping it small.
Here’s a picture of my cat.
