I’ve been trying to write this column for over a month. But it’s only now, when I have a week to complete this, another (3000 word) competition entry and write two different CVs and cover letters that I’ve actually started to feel some ‘inspiration’ (read: panic). I would wonder why I do this to myself, but – at this point – I think I’m past that.
Writing is my particular interest, but I don’t imagine this feeling is new to anyone with creative ambition (…at least, I hope not). Hopefully you know what I’m talking about:
Step 1: Think up, decide on and become unreasonably excited about a project idea.
Step 2: Spend hours and hours fleshing it out in your head, probably never once actually setting pen
to paper, or fingertips to keyboard.
Step 3: Realise this project has been existing only in your mind for several months, panic and make garbled notes, drafts or sketches at four in the morning: lose these, presumably forever (not that they were legible, anyway), and be eternally unsure whether or not you dreamt the entire thing.
Step 4: Spend days meticulously organising your mental process into an actual Word document: realise all you have done is write stuff down, without making any actual progress.
Step 5: Overanalyse. Begin to feel as though that unholy, sadistic little flashing cursor is actually mocking you.
Step 6: Decide it was a crap idea anyway.
Step 7: Rethink. Repeat.
Or, you know, something like that.
I truly believe it is the curse of the creative to simultaneously be easily distracted, woefully self-doubting and every shade of procrastinator. Creative types talk about ‘inspiration’ as if it’s this pre-packaged, gift-wrapped burst of genius descending on a velvet cushion with a hallelujah chorus accompaniment. And frankly, when it happens that’s pretty much how it feels. Unfortunately, it also seems to vanish the split second fingers make contact with a writing instrument.
That being the case, if you’re trying to make an actual living out of being creative, you can’t really rely on ‘inspiration’ – it doesn’t understand that rent is kind of a monthly thing. Sadly, sitting at a desk and feeling as though your brain is bleeding nonsense onto a piece of paper is sometimes all you can do. Bad, forced creativity is just that; bad and forced. But it’s better than nothing. Most of the time.
If you take away all of the material difficulties of being a professional creative (actual poverty, job-hunting, the fresh hell of freelancing, senior family members consistent enquiries as to when you’ll be looking for a ‘real job’), I would argue that is the most difficult part: sticking with an idea until the end, through the inspirational desert, crippling insecurity and failed attempts. It can, does and will happen – generally, you’ve just got to produce a lot of crap first. And, tragically, that definitely doesn’t come with a hallelujah chorus.
