Comments Gwynlyn MacKenzie says: I have often told my beloved there is a reason necessity is the MOTHER of invention; Father won’t do the job without the proper tools! Most of the women I know have, at one time or another, made McGiver (or is it Mac? Hmmm….) look like a pantywaist. THAT is creativity, and I’m afraid I’ve the misfortune to know a number of people lacking it. Perhaps, instead of giving the kids video games, we need to return to the days when a couple of good-sized boxes would keep them busy for hours. Of course, the last time I tried it, not only the parents looked at me like I was a nut case. However, realizing nothing more would be forthcoming and a tentative beginning, they soon became like kittens, crawling in an out of the fool things. And then . . . “No. My bus!” Victory. Ha! Having grown up in a klutzy household where new things were broken almost as soon as they were bought, I think I could equal MacGyver (again, sp?) in the inventiveness stakes. We couldn’t just run out and buy another X, Y or Z. We had to adapt. Let me tell you, elastic bands and clothes pegs are mightier than superglue sometimes. Thought-provoking post, Elisa!  Diana Layne says: that silver duct tape is my fix all, Vanessa. My last son’s first words were “I broke it.” Gwynlyn MacKenzie says: Sounds like my boy, although he didn’t always “break” them, per se. He took everything he got his hands on apart—and then couldn’t put it back together. One of those items was his dad’s pocket watch. Diana Layne says: speaking of boxes, Gwynlyn, my daughter has been wanting boxes, not just small one, but big ones, to construct herself a castle. So her father has finally honed in on some big ones and they plan a castle constructing project this weekend, now where we are going to put this, I have no idea since the house overrunneth with people already. sigh. I was thinking along the same line, Gwyn. It seems we hand the created project to the kids today instead of saying here are the tools, make something, have fun. A few years back, you probably remember, we (in PA)had a blizzard/ice storm starting on Christmas day which knocked our power out for seven days. The world around us stopped. To me it was heaven, except I carried buckets of snow inside to melt on the wood stove in order to flush toilets, but anyway.. my 16 year old daughter went nuts in like two days. It took a walk off the moutain to see the world was is the same shape and a walk up the mountain again for her to realize she had to do something to stay sane. She wrote poetry on her bedroom walls. Beautiful poems. It really was heaven, for me.  Elisa Beatty says: I love the idea of writing poems on bedroom walls! How long did it stay up there? Did you write it down for safekeeping? Her poems were there until she painted over them the following summer. And yes, she wrote a few down. They’re hers. I was so proud of her. Gwynlyn MacKenzie says: I remember that storm—and the blessed silence after. It does drive the kids crazy because silence is so alien in their world. Remember singing in the backseat of the car because you lost the radio station and couldn’t find another? We did rounds and harmonies and “fill in the line” thing. So much laughter… Gwynlyn MacKenzie says: Too lovely, Diana. Sounds like fun. On my really “are you out of your freaking mind, Woman?” days, I miss that stuff. Elisa Beatty says: Kids and boxes! One of my fondest childhood memories was of a week when several houses on our block all got new refrigerators at the same time (the houses were all built at once, and I think everybody’s appliances conked out at once.) The kids dragged the boxes into one back yard, and made castles, forts, rockets…. Of course, back then, we were ALLOWED to run around free all day, and no one was scared we’d be snatched up by strangers. I was so pleased to see my brother-in-law had duct-taped a proper box fort in his young son’s playroom the last time I visited their house. It’s a castle, or a prison, or a basketball court, depending on the day. When my nephew sees a television on (which he only sees while my brother-in-law is showering, I think, and he needs to mesmerize the baby for a bit), the child stares at it in wonder, like he’s never seen it on before. Then it gets turned off when dad comes back downstairs, and the boy dances, or draws, or “reads” a book. Or he goes outside to play with his trucks in the dirt, or dig up worms, or pick flowers, or whatever it is kids do, and what’s cool is he does it all without a ton of parental supervision. I mean, his dad’s there all the time, and is a loving, involved father, but he isn’t hovering over his son, telling him what to do, making sure he’s entertained. I was amazed to see that the boy entertains himself just fine. So fear not: some modern kids are still getting a relatively low-tech upbringing that requires them to develop their creative play skills. Elisa Beatty says: Sounds fabulous! What a great childhood! Gwynlyn MacKenzie says: Thank you, Jamie. You renew my faith. Without the creative folks—the ones who not only think “outside” the box (hate that cliche, but it works in this instance) but about the BOX’S potential to be more—heaven help us if something happens to disrupt the power grid and all its corollary output for any length of time. It scares me that teens can’t make change without the cash register telling them how much to return. Very Sad. If you lived with my husband you might change your mind about everyone being innately creative. My hubby has ZERO ability to imagine or envision anything. He swears he gave all of his creativity to our kids. Diana Layne says: I have “don’t die with your story still in you” typed out and taped on my computer. Elisa Beatty says: Amazing quote! (And I think keeping the story in will kill you faster! Exploding brain, and all that.)  Shea Berkley says: That’s a great quote, Laurie. It made me gasp when I read it. I totally agree, nothing would be sadder. Elisa Beatty says: My brother also claims to be a non-creative sort. In high school, when my sister and I were total theater geeks, and singing in choir, and taking dance classes, and reading Dickens for fun, and writing all the time, he’d entertain himself by reading huge black and white newsprint catalogs listing prices for various brands of electronic equipment. I couldn’t imagine anything deadlier…but it was a real joy for him. (He ended up being a computer programmer, and makes WAY more money than either my sister or I do.) Though in the past year or so, he’s taken up making furniture for his sons’ rooms, and I see the joy on his face when he shows it off. Computer programming might not be a strong expression of self, but it certainly is creative. My husband is a hardware engineer, and also does some software engineering. He says his projects are like puzzles, and he loves putting the pieces together. It strikes me as no different, in concept, from sewing, or quilting, or cooking, or any other craft. It might not be “art,” but like all crafts, if it’s masterfully done, it can be elevated to that status. Diana Layne says: Elisa, I’ve been a SAHM almost all my kids’ lives, and I’ve been writing almost that long as well, and I wondered just the other day what it would’ve been like to be a SAHM and not always be trying to frantically cram in as much writing as I could. I mean I don’t think I’d have the slightest idea what to do with the kids if I couldn’t tell them, “shut up and go play, I’m working!!” ha. Elisa Beatty says: I can’t imagine being a stay-home mom WITHOUT creative outlet on the side! I think it would drive the kids nuts, too, if all mom’s creative energy was either locked inside, or being focused on them.  Elise Hayes says: I keep telling my husband–who lives, eats, and breathes scifi to try his hand at writing the genre. He’s a scientist himself, and his favorite scifi writers are scientists–but he says he just doesn’t have the creativity. I don’t believe that myself, but I do acknowledge that words may not be his medium. His woodwork, though, is beautiful–there’s nothing like a laboratory physicist for precision in a carpentry setting So I do think everyone has it in them–they just may not recognize what they do as “art.” So true. I think many people have a craft that they excel at but don’t recognize it as creative. My mother is a seamstress. She WOWS me with the articles she makes, yet she doesn’t think her work is art. The apron she whipped up in under 30 for my grandmother this weekend, just so Taylor could bake cookies, was totally beautiful. Yet she says it was nothing. I bet his shelves are awesome.  Tamara Hogan says: ** So I do think everyone has it in them–they just may not recognize what they do as “art.” ** I agree completely, Elise. I think a lot of technically-oriented people just don’t see what they do as artistic. The manner that creativity is represented in the media or in culture – as “burst of creative energy”, or “feeling the muse” – as this mystical, undescribable, undisciplined thing – doeesn’t help. Some people’s creativity is more pragmatic and structured than that. Almost mathematical. I’m one of those people. Some of my first draft scenes are written entirely in pseudocode. As a novelist, as a (former) software developer, as a quilter, it makes complete sense to me that both left brain and right brain have to be engaged for my creative process to work. There’s the free-form brainstorming piece, then the discipline that comes in when it’s time to execute. Don’t ask me where the words come from, though. Elisa Beatty says: Yes! Yes! Yes! I come from a long line of seamstresses (and my sister’s a theatrical costume designer by training) and I completely agree that creativity that *goes anywhere* needs both parts of the brain. Whether it’s the ability to imagine a wedding gown in 3D and break it down into all the separate fabric pieces you’ll need to make it, or the ability to work out a logically-coherent plot, or the ability to work within time signatures / musical keys in order to write a symphony, creative work has got to be a combination of mystery and hard-headed practicality….or else it’s just daydreaming. Elisa Beatty says: The description of those shelves makes me think of Pa in the Little House on the Prairie books…he could make ANYTHING (mostly functional), but the stand-out thing Laura remembers is a carved shelf he makes for Ma’s little shepherdess figurine. It all goes together–the ability to make things needed for survival, and the things needed to satisfy our sense of beauty. A deep well.  Liz Talley says: Ahh…my favorite books and tv show. I think I parent the way I do because of the Ingalls. Sometimes I say things and think, “Well, that sounded just like Pa Ingalls!’ In fact my heroine in my first pubbed book is named Nellie. I was so fascinated by that nasty little girl This reminds me of an article a friend of mine wrote recently. She has two daughters, and when one of them told her she identified more with Little House’s Mary than with Laura, my friend felt completely thrown. Then her other daughter (reading Little Women) told her she preferred Meg to Jo. My friend freaked out for a bit–was something wrong with her girls? Didn’t everybody identify with the tortured, drama-seeking, gonna-grow-up-to-be-a-writer characters? Then she realized SHE had spent her own girlhood as a tortured, drama-seeking, gonna-grow-up-to-be-a-writer girl. Her own daughters were mellower, happiness-seeking people like their father. My friend had to make her peace with her little Mary and Meg. My husband is a science fiend, too. He recently said that he has an idea for a book involving vampire aliens. I thought he was kidding, but he’s brought it up a few times, and I think he’s serious. I bet it’d sell like hotcakes. I told him that if he wants to plot it, I’ll write it. We’ll be the next Weis & Hickman. Elisa Beatty says: Cool! You two sound like a great team! Elise Hayes says: I’ve thought about partnering with hubby, too, but he just hates, hates, hates anything having to do with writing (I tell him fiction is different from the scientific articles he writes, but he doesn’t believe me). So, for now at least, I’ve given up ideas about a scifi writing partnership…maybe someday, when we’re retired and he’s missing the science…  CJ Chase says: A scientist who doesn’t like symmetry? Now that is unusual. When my dh (engineer, now IT manager) was in grad school, he and his roommate (also an engineering grad student) had their furniture in straight rows. Try turning a chair at an angle to promote, say, conversation, and you’d find it back in formation when you returned from the restroom. But he’s very musical — that whole math-music relationship, I guess. I can play a piece of music on the piano, but I’m not creative with music. I just play someone else’s notes. But dh can create a harmony part where there is none. Elisa Beatty says: I’ve seen that science-music connection many, many times. My mother was a biochemist, and her father was an electrical engineer, and they loved to play together (her on piano, him on the violin). When I was in grad school (English), my housemates were all science grad students, very “logical” people who thought my obsession with writing was weird, but they spent hours themselves singing, playing guitar, playing piano. (For a weird little treat, check out “Symphony of Science” on youtube…includes Richard Feinman on the bongos!) Gwynlyn MacKenzie says: I can understand this, Elise. My dh is an engineer—has a formula for everything. And is literal to his core. I had written a line “He couldn’t deny the evidence of his eyes.” Laurie caught it and warned me the literal folks would have a problem. I said to my dh, “what does this … mean to you?” He said, “His eyes were evidence?” DUH! This man has an amazing IQ—although I only believe that half the time. Still, we infinitely creative folk sometimes need the pragmatists and literal minded to keep us grounded. That said, my dh made beautiful furniture pieces and other woodworking projects before he got hurt. His hands would skim over that wood as he checked for sanding flaws or finish flaws with all the care and sensuality of a lover. Go figure. Elise Hayes says: My hubby is so incredibly literal when he speaks–and when he listens to me. I’ll say something that relies on either context or just a bit of metaphorical imagination, and he’ll just stare at me like I’m nuts. It can lead to some really funny miscommunications Gwynlyn MacKenzie says: Oh, I hear you. (Chuckling just remembering a few!) I love the Monet quote! Words are our obsession, joy and our torment. Yesterday I heard someone use the word “quiver” and I thought, hmmm…I haven’t used the word quiver in a while. Maybe I can work that in. I agree with you that humans are innately creative. They way it manifests itself in each person is just such a mystery! For us, it’s these words and these stories. For others, it’s cooking an awesome meal with five ingredients. The theory of multiple intelligences even recognizes body awareness and movement as an intelligence. There’s a lot of creativity in people who know how to move their bodies to communicate — athletes and dancers. That’s a creativity I don’t have and don’t understand at all. Elisa Beatty says: I hear you on the multiple intelligences! As a teacher myself, I’m very conscious of how people who don’t “shine” in the traditional classroom (can’t spell, can’t stay at a desk, are tongue-tied in discussion) are often incredibly smart and talented and creative in other ways. When we had some work done on our house, I was struck by how many contractors are absolutely brilliant kinesthetically and in their ability to work in 3D space (and in their ability to respond with tremendous creativity around all the odd quirks and “surprises” of a older house). Since they knew my DH and I are teachers, several of them chatted with us about how they struggled with school, even dropped out. They’d been made to feel “dumb,” but they had incredible gifts! Great post! If only the others knew what a high creativity is.. How much more advanced would this world be? Or the fourth rock to the right? GRIN AJ Elisa Beatty says: Absolutely! It IS an amazing high. (Which, unfortunately, comes with some amazing lows as well. Torment, torment.) Yes, I think creativity makes us human. I must write, just like Richard Dreyfus had to sculpt a landscape out of his mashed potatoes in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. Before I was writing, I was doing needle work, quilting, painting, landscaping…the pursuit of beauty. Elisa Beatty says: Love that scene with the mashed potatoes! I remember when I saw that for the first time, I thought, THAT’S ME! THAT’S ME! (Mimesis, but with aliens.) Liz Talley says: Sounds like we are the same. From our “Barbie” stories to our other talents, we are creative by nature. I really thought about this…I mean, all people have the ability to create. They just don’t. And it’s sad really. I think the most definitive thing I’ve learned today – and, jeez, it’s only 8:45 here – is I need to foster my children’s creativity more. My only saving grace is that they attend a Performing Arts school. But I need to do a better job. Hmmmm….I wonder what they’ll think when they unwrap their Christmas gifts to find out that their boxes contain nothing? I’ll tell them to call Gwylyn. It was all her idea. LOL Elisa Beatty says: Hmmm…good idea! Good for the Xmas budget, too. Gwynlyn MacKenzie says: You do that, doll. LOL Creativity is as much a part of me as fingers and toes—I COULD live without it, but my balance and agility would take a serious hit. Cooking, sewing (I have to put up the pictures of the costumes I designed and made), crochet, embroidery, (I’m wondering if my spelling gene took a hit doing all that GMC last night!), gardening, music (I miss my organ and a keyboard just isn’t the same) are all pieces of the same picture. But writing—taking the ephemeral and giving it enough substance that others can see, hear, feel, smell, and taste it—that’s so freaking COOL! I’m totally with you. I just can’t not create. (How’s that for a totally intentional double-negative?) I have worked and lived with plenty of people who just don’t get it. They are happy to sit on a couch and watch the world go by. I try it, and I end up dreaming up new furniture arrangements, color schemes, and mentally designing new drapes. By day I’m a software engineer, which is one part creativity and nine parts drudgery (testing, documentation, sitting in meetings). And there have been times in my career where I’ve been stuck in a cycle of 10 parts drudgery and 0 parts creativity. And I nearly go postal. My husband (also a software engineer) thinks I’m nuts. Maybe I am nuts. But the more I connect with other writers, the more I realize that I am not alone! Elisa Beatty says: You’re definitely not alone, Kristi! I know–when I hear people say their “hobby” is watching TV, my head practically does a 360. Gwynlyn MacKenzie says: Sure you’re nuts, Kristi. But I promise the company is EXCELLENT here.  Katrina W says: “It doesn’t matter if no one else ever reads what I write. I have to do it.” – I’m afraid I’m the exact opposite. I like to create for other people’s enjoyment. It’s like that tree falling in the forest. My writing can’t make a sound unless someone else is experiencing it. That’s why I get so frustrated when it’s just not right because until it is, I’ll never be published and then it would be like I have lost the voice of my inner soul. Wow. That was way too philosophical for this early in the morning! Would it be too redundant to go ahead and say writing is a torment and an obsession for me?? Eventually if I make money, I expect I’ll find some joy in it as well! LOL Thanks for the great post. I never thought about how awful it would be to dream in black and white… Elisa Beatty says: Oh, wow! I hope your words get out there in the world! I believe they will! It’s funny: when I used to do theater, it didn’t come alive for me until there was an audience out there, laughing and responding; I could feel their physical and emotional presence even if I could barely see them,and that’s when I really loved what I was doing. With writing, though, for me the joy is all in the (private) doing. I get scared to death whenever I know someone is reading it…I just want to burrow under some really heavy blankets and hum a really loud Souza march to block everything out. If I get published, I may have to go live in an underground bunker. Thank goodness for pseudonyms….sort of like a secret identity to hide behind. Gwynlyn MacKenzie says: The energy of an audience can’t be bottled. Having one always adds depth and dimension to a perfomance. But a theater or auditorium holds few people when compared to the audience who will appreciate your books! So break a leg, doll. Gwynlyn MacKenzie says: Yes, I’ve crawled out of my cave to pester my Sisters for a wee while. Needed a breather, and this is such a great post! Elisa Beatty says: Thanks, Gwynlyn! And speaking of creativity, how’s the wild ride to 100,000 words going? (I keep thinking of you as I forge ahead with my WIP). Gwynlyn MacKenzie says: Just now getting into the gut-churning, breath-stealing descent-into-hell stage. First three are done, clean, and taking a moment to breathe—I know they are rife with prepositions and things that can be tightened—before I do a final edit. But Laurie says they’re good, so here’s hoping. Spent last night refreshing myself on GMC only to realize my secondary villain (he’s in all three stories, a puppet-master of sorts so in the background for the first two) had zip, zilch, zero apparent motivation for his obscenely obsessive behavior! DUH! It’s ALWAYS a learning process, isn’t it? Such a great post. I taught crafts and stained glass before I started writing. I think writing has superceded my need (and time) for other creative outlets, but I still get the hankering from time to time. Like when we installed a window in our house and had to cut off old wooden siding to do it–that siding is now hanging in our house, transformed into a large entry mirror. I think even people who don’t “think” they’re creative are, in some shape or form. There’s beauty in a football player catching the perfect pass. I’m always fascinated by the slow motion replay–watching the player push off the ground, hands coming up…fingers wrapping around the football. It’s as graceful as a ballerina executing the perfect arabesque. Or watching a horse and rider move together in perfect sync…or a musician’s ability to instill emotion into even the most difficult passage. Oh…or architects who are able to combine straight lines and curves to make buildings that are a work of art, rather just a square box. Okay…that was way too long of a comment. There are just things that bring tears to my eyes at the oddest moments. Humans are amazing creatures. Elisa Beatty says: They are amazing! (If only we could weed out a few of the *destructive* urges so many humans seem to have, and concentrate on the creative side!) I’d love to see the mirror you made! I cannot imagine my brain without it. Seriously. I’ve had it since my earliest memories; I always made up stories, even when I was little, my mom said I’d go to my bedroom and she’d hear me talking to myself about some random little story I came up with. My younger sis and I were always coming up with stories surrounding our dollhouse people and stuffed animals. Honestly I cannot fathom NOT coming up with stories. It just doesn’t make sense. My husband says he doesn’t understand how I can come up with stories surrounding imaginary people, but he’s about as logical as they come I think those who claim they have no creativity have it different ways. Even those who are analytical have some sort of creative spark; it just manifests itself differently. Elisa Beatty says: Oh, yeah–I spent endless hours in my room as a child making up stories with my toys. My mother used to send me up for a nap, but when she’d check on me, she always heard me babbling the dialogue instead… Writing is just the big-girl version of the same thing. Liz Talley says: During naptime, I read my Little Golden Books (my fave was Peter Pan) then spread them out around my bed and leapt from one to the other. In my mind I was the Indian Princess dodging the ticking croc. I loved Tigerlily – Wendy bored me. I played make believe so much when I was a child it amost seemed real. I could string a make believe story out for weeks. I wanted my mother to call me Barbara – that was often my pretend name. It sounded ever so sophisticated to me as a child.  Ami Weaver says: Oh, yes, I feel it. It’s usually a joy, but can be torment when I get stuck. Elisa Beatty says: Me, too… living without that wildness in my head would be worse than going blind. If I’ve let life get in the way too much, I definitely feel that creative urge. More than a day or so and I’ll do just about anything to write again. Elisa Beatty says: I feel that way, absolutely! I start snapping at everybody, and feeling like there’s an incredible weight pressing down on me. Everything feels better if I can just get a couple of hours to write. (Luckily, my husband’s radar has been getting better on this…he’s developing a knack for taking our five-year-old to the playground for a couple of hours when I’m really getting desperate, so I can work. I’m sure he’s noticing how much NICER I am to be around afterwards.) Elisa, maybe your friend just had a narrow definition of creativity. Love Tina’s sports examples, especially horse and rider. But even a liar is creative I’m coming in SO late, but Elisa, this is a such a beautiful post! Words and music are my creative outlet. Every time I think I could walk away from writing, I’m drawn back by the need to put words down on the page. Elisa Beatty says: Glad you made it! It’s amazing how strong the draw of writing is… I feel it every day, and I still wonder WHY, exactly. Writing’s such a new thing in human history, we’re not even biologically adapted to doing it. (Storytelling, yes, I think–but writing, specifically, no.) Yet it’s like our brains were just WAITING for it. I probably shouldn’t say this, but I once heard a methamphetamine addict say something very similiar about that drug…it was the key for her lock. The very first time, it just *fit*, and felt right, and it was almost impossible for her to shake it afterward.
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She actually said she isn’t creative? That’s … crazy! Wow.
Everyone is creative, at least that’s what I’ve been taught, that God gives us imaginations to help us not only solve problems, but to stave off boredom. Some of the craziest, imaginative things I’ve done happened when I was bored.
When I’m not writing, I love to paint and cook. I can’t imagine life without participating in some sort of artistic expression. Heck, you should see me with play-doh. I can kick a three-year-old’s diapered tush with my version of a snake. My kids and I would have craft time every day when they were younger. It was the highlight of our morning.
Funny thing, nothing tortures me as much as writing. But then, nothing gives me as much joy when I do it right, either.
Shea said: Funny thing, nothing tortures me as much as writing. But then, nothing gives me as much joy when I do it right, either.
Amen, sister!
Yeah…it really took me aback. I hope my jaw didn’t actually drop.
Then again, when I tell sports-loving, super-athletic people that I’m just not athletic, I get some pretty shocked (and pitying) stares. It takes all kinds, etc..
LOL. This is exactly what I was going to write, Shea. I love to cook and paint. Before I had children and wrote, I’d stroll across the living room with my huge craft box. My husband would say, “Uh-oh, what’s going on here?” And I’d respond, “It’s time to make something.” I just had to, you know? And cooking’s the same way.
I think I have a God complex. The need to create. Hey, He said He made us in His image, right? So we HAVE to create stuff whether it’s art, writing, fantastic cakes, or scrapbooking. Men do it too – they build duck blinds, wood working, or baseball collections. It’s just in our nature, thank God, or we’d still be shivering in a cave playing with rocks.