As of today at 1:18pm Central, 185 generously creative women have taken the Women & Creativity survey. Thanks to everyone who took the time to complete it and thanks to those of you who sent it on to the other amazing women in your lives.
The survey will remain open until the end of the month. If you haven't had a chance to participate, there's still time!
After the survey closes, I'm looking forward to sifting through the responses and sharing the results on this blog. So be sure to check back and see what happens when we come together as a creative force!
Monday, January 26, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
Quality Brainstorming--It's All About Quantity
A knock-your-socks-off brainstorming session requires three things: candy, caffeine and courage.
Brainstorming is an incredibly vulnerable creative activity. It's also a big undertaking--generating as many ideas as possible within a given time frame is quite the task. Whether we've convened in a group in front of a white board or sit alone staring at a blank screen, the very act of brainstorming requires us to blurt out every idea that leaps out of our gray matter. That seems easy enough in theory. The hard part is refusing to pass judgment on those ideas.
Ironically, quality brainstorming is, first and foremost, about quantity. It's hard not to judge the ideas as they come to you. If you're working in a group, the pressure to filter out the "bad" ideas can be immense (especially depending on who's in the room with you). Even alone, you'll be tempted to edit out the "corny," "silly" or "stupid" ideas to preserve your sense of self. But judging your (or others') creativity at this delicate juncture damages the creative flow and bring ideas (good and not-so-good) to a halt.
In a perfect world (i.e., if we weren't human), we would honor each and every idea as valid. But I've been in brainstorms where I've uttered a headline and the room goes silent while an account executive dutifully records the idea without looking me in the eye. Let's be frank--it's hard to honor the crap. But brainstorming's like panning for gold--you collect everything in the pan first, then you shake it out to find the good stuff. The great thing with brainstorming is that often the crap leads to great ideas (unlike panning for gold where dirt is just dirt).
Remember the big truth of brainstorming: your ideas aren't necessarily a full reflection of your creativity. In many cases, it might be a truer reflection of your grace under fire, your wicked sense of humor or your uncanny ability for free-association. So withhold your judgment at all costs until it's called for. Think of it like pulling socks out of your dryer: at first, you're just identifying what's a sock and what's not. Later, you'll figure out which ones go together, which ones don't have a mate, and which ones are ready for the rag bag.
If you find yourself facilitating a group brainstorm, cultivate an open environment, keep things fairly fast-paced, and encourage people to riff off each other's ideas. You'd be surprised what kind of alchemy occurs when a stone of an idea is transformed into gold with a terrific team dynamic.
Regardless, a quality brainstorm session relies on quantity first. Only after you have a pan full of ideas can you shake out the nuggets.
Brainstorming is an incredibly vulnerable creative activity. It's also a big undertaking--generating as many ideas as possible within a given time frame is quite the task. Whether we've convened in a group in front of a white board or sit alone staring at a blank screen, the very act of brainstorming requires us to blurt out every idea that leaps out of our gray matter. That seems easy enough in theory. The hard part is refusing to pass judgment on those ideas.
Ironically, quality brainstorming is, first and foremost, about quantity. It's hard not to judge the ideas as they come to you. If you're working in a group, the pressure to filter out the "bad" ideas can be immense (especially depending on who's in the room with you). Even alone, you'll be tempted to edit out the "corny," "silly" or "stupid" ideas to preserve your sense of self. But judging your (or others') creativity at this delicate juncture damages the creative flow and bring ideas (good and not-so-good) to a halt.
In a perfect world (i.e., if we weren't human), we would honor each and every idea as valid. But I've been in brainstorms where I've uttered a headline and the room goes silent while an account executive dutifully records the idea without looking me in the eye. Let's be frank--it's hard to honor the crap. But brainstorming's like panning for gold--you collect everything in the pan first, then you shake it out to find the good stuff. The great thing with brainstorming is that often the crap leads to great ideas (unlike panning for gold where dirt is just dirt).
Remember the big truth of brainstorming: your ideas aren't necessarily a full reflection of your creativity. In many cases, it might be a truer reflection of your grace under fire, your wicked sense of humor or your uncanny ability for free-association. So withhold your judgment at all costs until it's called for. Think of it like pulling socks out of your dryer: at first, you're just identifying what's a sock and what's not. Later, you'll figure out which ones go together, which ones don't have a mate, and which ones are ready for the rag bag.
If you find yourself facilitating a group brainstorm, cultivate an open environment, keep things fairly fast-paced, and encourage people to riff off each other's ideas. You'd be surprised what kind of alchemy occurs when a stone of an idea is transformed into gold with a terrific team dynamic.
Regardless, a quality brainstorm session relies on quantity first. Only after you have a pan full of ideas can you shake out the nuggets.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
History in the Making
Whether we sit to the left, right or center of the proverbial political fence, I think we can all agree that today's inauguration of President Barack Obama was a big moment in U.S. history.
But it's important to remember that history, especially personal history (or herstory), isn't defined only by the big, record-setting, news-worthy moments. Every day you make your own history moment by moment, deciding who you are, what's important to you and how you choose to live. Although it may not always feel like it, your daily existence is a real-life Choose Your Own Adventure.
Our lives are shaped each second by the choices we make. At times, our ability to choose might feel like an albatross around our necks--when it's all said and done, only we can be held accountable. We were the ones who closed the door, dropped the gavel, opened the letter, stepped on the brake, cast the ballot, said yes, said no, said nothing. But the beauty of this daily responsibility is the inherent power we have to become our most authentic selves. We can do it in the blink of an eye, in the single second it takes to choose the path that honors our truest nature.
Don't think for a second that you must struggle, fight, curse or claw your way into an authentic life. Although the path may be rocky or unclear, and the soles of your shoes may be worn away until every rock and pebble can be felt underfoot, and it's through sheer grit or courage you take each next step, it is the gift of presence--that incredible moment of now that lets us choose over and over and over to be our most honest, realized selves--that is gently, surprisingly effortless.
But it's important to remember that history, especially personal history (or herstory), isn't defined only by the big, record-setting, news-worthy moments. Every day you make your own history moment by moment, deciding who you are, what's important to you and how you choose to live. Although it may not always feel like it, your daily existence is a real-life Choose Your Own Adventure.
Our lives are shaped each second by the choices we make. At times, our ability to choose might feel like an albatross around our necks--when it's all said and done, only we can be held accountable. We were the ones who closed the door, dropped the gavel, opened the letter, stepped on the brake, cast the ballot, said yes, said no, said nothing. But the beauty of this daily responsibility is the inherent power we have to become our most authentic selves. We can do it in the blink of an eye, in the single second it takes to choose the path that honors our truest nature.
Don't think for a second that you must struggle, fight, curse or claw your way into an authentic life. Although the path may be rocky or unclear, and the soles of your shoes may be worn away until every rock and pebble can be felt underfoot, and it's through sheer grit or courage you take each next step, it is the gift of presence--that incredible moment of now that lets us choose over and over and over to be our most honest, realized selves--that is gently, surprisingly effortless.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Leap of Faith
You may be familiar with The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron, the classic self-help book on recovering your creativity. From morning pages (freewriting when you first wake up each morning to help kick start your creativity) to artist's dates (scheduling an activity for yourself that helps stoke your artistic fire), Cameron's activities have been a guide for many an artist, writer, or performer looking to rediscover their native ability to create.
But Cameron's biggest impact on me was a small quote included in her book: "Leap and the net will appear."
I started as a freelance copywriter after almost four years at a small, privately-held marketing agency. Although I knew I had the skills to make a living as a freelancer, I wasn't sure if I had the ability to sell myself. I'd read a few books about freelancing, Bob Bly's Secrets of a Freelance Writer and Peter Bowerman's The Well-Fed Writer, but I still had no idea if I'd be living in a cardboard box after a year. The only way to know for sure was to quit my steady, full-time job at the agency and go out on my own.
So I did.
And it worked.
I landed clients and paying gigs. I never had to worry about how I was going to pay the bills. In my first year as a freelancer, I made more than the salary I'd left behind.
How? I lept and my net appeared.
More specifically, I went into the situation with a very specific intention: I believed (and still do) that big risk comes with big reward. I honestly believed there was no way I could take a potentially foundation-shaking risk (like quitting my job to freelance) and not have it pay off.
It wasn't about a sense of entitlement--I didn't think the universe owed me anything because I quit my job. It was about understanding what I needed to do to make things work out the way I wanted.
Take self-promotion. I developed a direct mail piece that I sent to a targeted list of potential clients. "But what if that doesn't work?" said that somewhat whiny, annoying little voice in my head. If my phone sat silent, I knew I could cold call. Not exactly a fun way to spend a day, but if I had to do it to keep my newly established freedom and flexibility, then I'd start dialing for dollars. "And if that doesn't work?" (It's surprising how persistent that doubting voice can be.) If all else failed and I was completely destitute, I'd start looking for a desk job. "And if you can't find a job as a copywriter?" Then I'd get a job. Any job. I'm a smart woman with a diverse communications background--I knew I was worth a paycheck, even if that meant I was standing behind a cash register at Starbucks. Not a dream job, but gainful employment by most people's standards.
So when I leapt, my net did appear in the form of believing in myself. I knew that if things didn't work out the way I'd planned, I would adapt, try a new path and keep moving forward. And even my last resort, my worst case scenario wasn't that bad.
Think about the path you'd love to follow, the life you'd love to create, the masterpiece inside you. Can you do it? If you're contemplating it, you probably have the grit to pull it off. Will it take a leap of faith to get there? Yes--faith in yourself!
But Cameron's biggest impact on me was a small quote included in her book: "Leap and the net will appear."
I started as a freelance copywriter after almost four years at a small, privately-held marketing agency. Although I knew I had the skills to make a living as a freelancer, I wasn't sure if I had the ability to sell myself. I'd read a few books about freelancing, Bob Bly's Secrets of a Freelance Writer and Peter Bowerman's The Well-Fed Writer, but I still had no idea if I'd be living in a cardboard box after a year. The only way to know for sure was to quit my steady, full-time job at the agency and go out on my own.
So I did.
And it worked.
I landed clients and paying gigs. I never had to worry about how I was going to pay the bills. In my first year as a freelancer, I made more than the salary I'd left behind.
How? I lept and my net appeared.
More specifically, I went into the situation with a very specific intention: I believed (and still do) that big risk comes with big reward. I honestly believed there was no way I could take a potentially foundation-shaking risk (like quitting my job to freelance) and not have it pay off.
It wasn't about a sense of entitlement--I didn't think the universe owed me anything because I quit my job. It was about understanding what I needed to do to make things work out the way I wanted.
Take self-promotion. I developed a direct mail piece that I sent to a targeted list of potential clients. "But what if that doesn't work?" said that somewhat whiny, annoying little voice in my head. If my phone sat silent, I knew I could cold call. Not exactly a fun way to spend a day, but if I had to do it to keep my newly established freedom and flexibility, then I'd start dialing for dollars. "And if that doesn't work?" (It's surprising how persistent that doubting voice can be.) If all else failed and I was completely destitute, I'd start looking for a desk job. "And if you can't find a job as a copywriter?" Then I'd get a job. Any job. I'm a smart woman with a diverse communications background--I knew I was worth a paycheck, even if that meant I was standing behind a cash register at Starbucks. Not a dream job, but gainful employment by most people's standards.
So when I leapt, my net did appear in the form of believing in myself. I knew that if things didn't work out the way I'd planned, I would adapt, try a new path and keep moving forward. And even my last resort, my worst case scenario wasn't that bad.
Think about the path you'd love to follow, the life you'd love to create, the masterpiece inside you. Can you do it? If you're contemplating it, you probably have the grit to pull it off. Will it take a leap of faith to get there? Yes--faith in yourself!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Get the Glow
GLOW (n): The tangible yet undefinable essence a woman radiates when she's passionately involved in work that expresses her most authentic self.
The Glow Project is a video of interviews with 15 highly successful business women discussing their road to success. Created by Sandra Yancey, Founder and CEO of eWomen Network, the movie talks to corner-office-with-a-view execs (like Cathie Black, President of Hearst Magazines and WBNA President Donna Orender) and entrepreneurs (like Tory Johnson, founder of Women for Hire), offering stories, observations and snippets of advice for women looking to excel in a more authentic way. It's a movie with the potential to become a movement, and the message is obviously heartfelt, even if the steps to tapping into your glow are left up to you.
"Glow" seems like such an esoteric, unattainable term, and perhaps that's something Yancey tries to dispel when she introduces Donna Orender in the first two minutes. I wanted to reach through the screen and hug straight-talking Orender when, in her opening excerpt, she says:
The majority of women are refreshingly straight-forward, and you never get a sense that they faced problems bigger than yours. As a matter of fact, it was surprising how much their struggles weren't particularly extraordinary--more like stories we've heard from sisters, aunts, friends or perhaps experienced ourselves (with the exception of Marilyn Tam who, as the second daughter in a Chinese family, was left in the hospital for three days after her birth because her parents didn't want her), suggesting that their large-scale success has something to do with embracing their "glow."
Although the struggles each woman faced help make their success seem more poignant, what interested me more (and what felt most valuable) was hearing them talk about common issues like fear, therapy and mommy guilt--issues most of us can nod our heads to and respond with a "preach it, sister."
So, how do you tap into glow? These women offer advice, observations and suggestions, but it seems like the process may be unique to every individual. The Glow Project merely serves as inspiration to set as many of us on the path as possible.
The Glow Project is a video of interviews with 15 highly successful business women discussing their road to success. Created by Sandra Yancey, Founder and CEO of eWomen Network, the movie talks to corner-office-with-a-view execs (like Cathie Black, President of Hearst Magazines and WBNA President Donna Orender) and entrepreneurs (like Tory Johnson, founder of Women for Hire), offering stories, observations and snippets of advice for women looking to excel in a more authentic way. It's a movie with the potential to become a movement, and the message is obviously heartfelt, even if the steps to tapping into your glow are left up to you.
"Glow" seems like such an esoteric, unattainable term, and perhaps that's something Yancey tries to dispel when she introduces Donna Orender in the first two minutes. I wanted to reach through the screen and hug straight-talking Orender when, in her opening excerpt, she says:
"I don't want to create mythology, because mythology makes us all crazy. You know, the perfect images in the magazines, that fact that women can have it all, I think that undermines our ability to be confident. So I don't want to at any point say that there were days that I didn't cry when I got home or I felt like I couldn't get there--not that there was a 'there'--or I couldn't achieve what I wanted. Have that. Still have that. But ultimately have a kind of naive conviction that if you do the right thing, the right thing will happen. And I was armed with that all the time. And I guess that always kept me focused and kept me going."
The majority of women are refreshingly straight-forward, and you never get a sense that they faced problems bigger than yours. As a matter of fact, it was surprising how much their struggles weren't particularly extraordinary--more like stories we've heard from sisters, aunts, friends or perhaps experienced ourselves (with the exception of Marilyn Tam who, as the second daughter in a Chinese family, was left in the hospital for three days after her birth because her parents didn't want her), suggesting that their large-scale success has something to do with embracing their "glow."
Although the struggles each woman faced help make their success seem more poignant, what interested me more (and what felt most valuable) was hearing them talk about common issues like fear, therapy and mommy guilt--issues most of us can nod our heads to and respond with a "preach it, sister."
So, how do you tap into glow? These women offer advice, observations and suggestions, but it seems like the process may be unique to every individual. The Glow Project merely serves as inspiration to set as many of us on the path as possible.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Agony and the Ecstasy
I've been working on my headstand, a particularly challenging yoga pose for me. It's also been an incredibly frustrating process for me--one that sometimes makes me want to take a box cutter to my yoga mat.
Enter Eric Maisel's Creativity for Life: Practical Advice on the Artist's Personality and Career from America's Foremost Creativity Coach fresh off the mail truck.
Maisel has written numerous books on creativity and offers workshops, podcasts, training seminars for creativity coaches and more. Although his name was slightly familiar (like a passing scent you can't place), I wasn't familiar with his oeuvre. But he definitely earned the book's subtitle in my eyes when I came across this gem:
Maisel was discussing the guided writing practice he recommends for creative self-awareness. But for me, he busted one of my major myths about creativity.
Creativity is uncomfortable? For me, this is a major revelation. I assumed when a person functions in her authentic creative state, things come easily and naturally, every minute is unadulterated joy, songbirds alight on her shoulder and woodland creatures coming out to sing her praises.
Jump to my vocal practice where working on a new song made me so wildly uncomfortable that I wanted to binge on a whole bag of York Peppermint Patties. Believing that creativity wasn't supposed to feel that way, I started to second-guess my desire to sing.
According to Maisel, frustration and discomfort make regular co-starring appearances in the creative process. Maisel counsels acknowledging your feelings and their source. ("I don't want to practice this song because I doubt my ability to make it original and that makes me uncomfortable.")
But the key is to wait, breathe, and see if your willingness to keep going reemerges.
So I thought I'd try it today with the headstand. I prepared myself and made a promise that I would make ten headstand attempts today--good, bad or ugly.
The first two attempts went okay. Frustration started tugging at my yoga pants by attempt #3. By my sixth attempt, I was disgusted enough to walk away from my yoga mat, but I tried Maisel's advice. "I'm feeling uncomfortable because I think I'm capable of this but it's not coming to me as easily as I want." I took a few breaths and actually felt better.
By attempt #8, I had stopped focusing on how frustrated I was and really keyed into the physical things I needed to experiment with: walking my feet closer, focusing my weight on my arms, playing with my balance point.
I'd love to say that by #10 I'd perfected the pose, but I was just pleased to have (1) met my headstand goals for the day, and (2) walked away with a more positive, more focused idea of the things I need to work on--all without psychologically beating myself up or shredding my yoga mat into party confetti.
Enter Eric Maisel's Creativity for Life: Practical Advice on the Artist's Personality and Career from America's Foremost Creativity Coach fresh off the mail truck.
Maisel has written numerous books on creativity and offers workshops, podcasts, training seminars for creativity coaches and more. Although his name was slightly familiar (like a passing scent you can't place), I wasn't familiar with his oeuvre. But he definitely earned the book's subtitle in my eyes when I came across this gem:
"The ability to tolerate an uncomfortable state for minutes, hours and days on end, to tolerate that discomfort again and again, week in and week out, is the key to maintaining resolve. An inability to tolerate uncomfortable feelings will the enterprise of guided writing--or anything else--to a grinding halt."
Maisel was discussing the guided writing practice he recommends for creative self-awareness. But for me, he busted one of my major myths about creativity.
Creativity is uncomfortable? For me, this is a major revelation. I assumed when a person functions in her authentic creative state, things come easily and naturally, every minute is unadulterated joy, songbirds alight on her shoulder and woodland creatures coming out to sing her praises.
Jump to my vocal practice where working on a new song made me so wildly uncomfortable that I wanted to binge on a whole bag of York Peppermint Patties. Believing that creativity wasn't supposed to feel that way, I started to second-guess my desire to sing.
According to Maisel, frustration and discomfort make regular co-starring appearances in the creative process. Maisel counsels acknowledging your feelings and their source. ("I don't want to practice this song because I doubt my ability to make it original and that makes me uncomfortable.")
But the key is to wait, breathe, and see if your willingness to keep going reemerges.
So I thought I'd try it today with the headstand. I prepared myself and made a promise that I would make ten headstand attempts today--good, bad or ugly.
The first two attempts went okay. Frustration started tugging at my yoga pants by attempt #3. By my sixth attempt, I was disgusted enough to walk away from my yoga mat, but I tried Maisel's advice. "I'm feeling uncomfortable because I think I'm capable of this but it's not coming to me as easily as I want." I took a few breaths and actually felt better.
By attempt #8, I had stopped focusing on how frustrated I was and really keyed into the physical things I needed to experiment with: walking my feet closer, focusing my weight on my arms, playing with my balance point.
I'd love to say that by #10 I'd perfected the pose, but I was just pleased to have (1) met my headstand goals for the day, and (2) walked away with a more positive, more focused idea of the things I need to work on--all without psychologically beating myself up or shredding my yoga mat into party confetti.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Serving Up Survey Monkey
If you're here for the first time, you're probably here because you received my email inviting you to participate in my very informal, very unscientific survey on women & creativity.
My motivating force for the survey was to get a broader understanding of how creativity factors into the daily lives of all types of women leading all types of lives. I'm living an urban-freelance-great boyfriend-no offspring-one cat life. In my ideal scenario, I'd hear from all you beet-growing, truck-driving, nonprofit-directing, 'zine-writing, pet-saving, championship-surfing, church-going, sun-tanning, soul-singing, spell-casting, home-making, test-grading, meeting-attending, care-giving, hair-styling, psychic-reading, music-obsessing, scarf-knitting, poetry-reading, band-leading, Internet-surfing women out there. (And if you're not on this list, I hope it's pretty obvious how much I'd like to hear from you, too.)
I want to hear from women in all walks of life, in all parts of the country, in countries all over the world. I want to understand how you approach creativity: how you define it, how you embrace it, and what you get out of it. Why? Because I'm so interested in how different we all are, and I want to see if there's anything we have in common when it comes to creativity.
The survey is completely anonymous. I'm not sure how long I'll keep the survey active, but I'll post a one-week-to-shutdown so any of you procrastinators (me included) can jump in at the eleventh hour. Once I've had a chance to sift through the responses, you can bet you'll start hearing about the stuff you've helped me compile.
Any woman is welcome to participate in this survey. If you'd like to offer your (anonymous) opinions on creativity, click here to take survey. And if you know other women that would like to contribute, please pass along the URL.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Space Required
Today while washing dishes between writing projects, it occurred to me how much space creativity requires.
For example--over the holidays, Christopher and I slacked on keeping the kitchen clean. Dishes would be left out on the counter or pots and pans would sit waiting to be washed. Eventually we'd clean up, only to let it lapse again. I thought we were being indulgent--it's the holidays, after all. But we didn't cook very much. Our meals were slap-dash: lunch was a peanut butter sandwich, dinner might be leftovers--nothing that took any creative energy.
When it stopped being indulgent and started to drive me nuts, Christopher and I agreed to maintain the kitchen more regularly. Dishes are now washed frequently, the kitchen trash gets taken out before it ends up with a life of its own, our long-overdue recycling has been removed, the counters and tabletop are wiped clean. Even the refrigerator has shed long-forgotten leftovers and recipe remnants.
As I dried the last pan and put it away, I was surprised by how much I wanted to cook. All the obstacles that--in this case--laziness put in my way (a full trash bag, a cluttered fridge, a sink full of dishes) had been completely removed. I could think of no reason not to cook. And the space created opened up my desire to create.
Creating physical space can have a lot of benefits. It's said to reduce stress, encourage clearer thinking, even help sell your house. Lisa Lelas, professional organizer, life coach and author of the blog The Organization Diet: Lose the Clutter and Drop the Weight, sees a correlation between extra stuff and extra pounds.
There are lots of things we use as roadblocks to creativity. Clearing physical space may be one of the easiest stumbling blocks to remove simply because it's physical.
Try it for yourself. Think of your primary creative space, then make a list of those areas in that space that could use your organizational attention. Think small (toolboxes, drawers) and big (bookshelves, closets). Then start working your way down your list. As you cross an item off, visualize that space in your mind and make a note about how you feel when you think about it. How does your newly organized art supply cabinet make you feel?
If you're on a roll and ready to tackle a much larger space (entire office, storage unit, basement, garage, personal dwelling, etc.) check out these organizational tips adapted by Annie Bond from Donna Smallin's Unclutter Your Home.
However big or small your list, go at your own pace. This is not about housekeeping or impressing guests. (Chances are visitors might not notice these changes--unless they typically rummage through your junk drawers.) It's about giving yourself the space to be creative. And maybe have a freshly baked corn frittata for dinner.
For example--over the holidays, Christopher and I slacked on keeping the kitchen clean. Dishes would be left out on the counter or pots and pans would sit waiting to be washed. Eventually we'd clean up, only to let it lapse again. I thought we were being indulgent--it's the holidays, after all. But we didn't cook very much. Our meals were slap-dash: lunch was a peanut butter sandwich, dinner might be leftovers--nothing that took any creative energy.
When it stopped being indulgent and started to drive me nuts, Christopher and I agreed to maintain the kitchen more regularly. Dishes are now washed frequently, the kitchen trash gets taken out before it ends up with a life of its own, our long-overdue recycling has been removed, the counters and tabletop are wiped clean. Even the refrigerator has shed long-forgotten leftovers and recipe remnants.
As I dried the last pan and put it away, I was surprised by how much I wanted to cook. All the obstacles that--in this case--laziness put in my way (a full trash bag, a cluttered fridge, a sink full of dishes) had been completely removed. I could think of no reason not to cook. And the space created opened up my desire to create.
Creating physical space can have a lot of benefits. It's said to reduce stress, encourage clearer thinking, even help sell your house. Lisa Lelas, professional organizer, life coach and author of the blog The Organization Diet: Lose the Clutter and Drop the Weight, sees a correlation between extra stuff and extra pounds.
There are lots of things we use as roadblocks to creativity. Clearing physical space may be one of the easiest stumbling blocks to remove simply because it's physical.
Try it for yourself. Think of your primary creative space, then make a list of those areas in that space that could use your organizational attention. Think small (toolboxes, drawers) and big (bookshelves, closets). Then start working your way down your list. As you cross an item off, visualize that space in your mind and make a note about how you feel when you think about it. How does your newly organized art supply cabinet make you feel?
If you're on a roll and ready to tackle a much larger space (entire office, storage unit, basement, garage, personal dwelling, etc.) check out these organizational tips adapted by Annie Bond from Donna Smallin's Unclutter Your Home.
However big or small your list, go at your own pace. This is not about housekeeping or impressing guests. (Chances are visitors might not notice these changes--unless they typically rummage through your junk drawers.) It's about giving yourself the space to be creative. And maybe have a freshly baked corn frittata for dinner.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Creativity in 2009
Something about 2009 got me thinking about creativity. Maybe it's the changes we're sure to face this year as a nation dealing with a deflated economy, questionable global relationships and the promise of a new administration on the horizon. Clearly 2009 will require change. And for me creativity has always been about change. Just as water, life-giving in motion, becomes toxic when it stagnates, creativity has to be free to move. No, dance. Creativity doesn't plod. It arabesques the way many of us did when we were young, leaping in the summer sun across green grass or achingly hot asphalt in our own private performances.
Creativity takes lots of forms, but it didn't surprise me when I started thinking about creativity in women's lives. As an only child, my girlfriends became my sisters and gave as much to me as real sisters would. I am incredibly grateful for that. Perhaps this is another way for me to express my gratitude.
This blog is the start of a personal exploration of the nature of creativity in women's lives. Hopefully it's the first step of a long journey where every woman on earth sees creativity not as a luxury but as an essential human right. And in that full, fresh sharing of ourselves, we look each other in the eyes and call ourselves sisters.
Creativity takes lots of forms, but it didn't surprise me when I started thinking about creativity in women's lives. As an only child, my girlfriends became my sisters and gave as much to me as real sisters would. I am incredibly grateful for that. Perhaps this is another way for me to express my gratitude.
This blog is the start of a personal exploration of the nature of creativity in women's lives. Hopefully it's the first step of a long journey where every woman on earth sees creativity not as a luxury but as an essential human right. And in that full, fresh sharing of ourselves, we look each other in the eyes and call ourselves sisters.
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