Why creative cravings are worth giving into
A Riff on Creative Cravings
I consider them to be this urge, desire, that bubbles up inside of us. It wants us to make something, it wants us to take this idea, whether it’s sturdy and fully formed or flimsy and brittle and full of gaps of uncertainty. It wants us to turn it into something. To create.
The last two weeks after being in wild writing class, I’ve had the weirdest, cool and intriguing ideas for fictional books or short stories come to me. I noticed that familiar craving fill my chest, lungs and seep into my neck, a big exciting inhale that eventually reaches my face and carves out a smirk.
Then thoughts of oh no, I don’t have time for this, when will I fit it in. I don’t know how to write a proper fictional book or short story. I don’t know where to begin.
The chorus of standard-issue objections seems to always play on repeat anytime it senses a creative craving rise up from inside. It wants to shut it down, trap it inside. Fear of failure. Fear of not enough time. Fear of it going nowhere - like the spy novel that’s partially written in my Evernote.
But here’s the thing, those worrying and fearful thoughts that want to snuff out this urge to create. The ones that question what’s the point. This isn’t worth it. What will happen if you fail or it just ends up in the incomplete pile like the rest?
Those aren’t the only thoughts. Those aren’t the rule - as much as we might think of them that way.
We could just pick up the pen and write. For 20 minutes here and there. In a messed up order. Without the desire to publish it or have it land on a store shelf. We could just start and let those other worries come later.
I was thinking about this willingness to just attempt creating, to just be there with your creative cravings yesterday. I’d just let our dog out in the backyard and as I was piling on my winter layers so I could join her, below me our cat, Fez, had his two front paws resting on the trim of the window. He was meowing or whining - it was the particular meow he uses when he wants to go outside.
He’s obsessed with being outside, even in the winter. He’s an indoor cat, for his safety and also for the safety of our neighbourhood birds, mice and whatever else he’d likely slaughter if he was out there. I found him outside after a thunderstorm. No clue where he came from. We joke that maybe he has a loving family waiting for him and he just wants to be outside so he can run back to them.
Some days he gets impatient with us and as soon as we crack the door open he makes a dash towards the nearest tree. But most days he waits for one of us to pick him up and take him outside. He’ll sit contently, on our lap. I think he just likes being outside. Sniffing the air and whatever else his little nose can pick up. He doesn’t need to explore, climb a tree or be chased around by our dog. He’s mostly just content to be outside.
And that brings me back to our creative cravings. We can choose to give into them. To let our creativity out and just write. Just paint. Just sketch, stitch or dance. We can just do that and not worry about the logistics of how. We can just do that and not place expectations on it to be perfect.
We can just create because that’s what we need to do, that’s what we’re meant to do.
Today I wrote in my notebook. Possibly the start of three short stories or novels. Or possibly they’re just words that now live on these lined pages. Possibly just sentences, incomplete chapters, and stories.
But letting myself see what it feels like, see what it’s like to experience just writing and creating with no other strings attached or without being hindered by the worrying thoughts and fears...that’s the point. That’s the purpose. That’s expressing my creativity and giving into that creative craving.
And how it makes me feel is enough. Maybe just for now. Maybe in a week or months from now, I’ll have the urge to share it. I’ll have the urge to turn it into something with more structure and completeness.