Creative on command
You might wait awhile for a wave, but at least you’re in the water. (Image by Manie Van der Hoven)
The performing songwriter has a unique challenge when it comes to their second album.
They had a couple of decades or so to come up with the material for their debut, and now they need to write just as many songs in mere months — likely while touring and doing press to promote their existing record.
What's more, they now have to contend with public scrutiny and commercial expectations on top of that. They need to write hits.
Some artists in this position turn to drugs and alcohol to numb the anxiety that comes with fame and professional pressure, not to mention the exhaustion and melancholy of life on the road.
Despite the intensity and overwhelm, however, many of them figure out how to create a second and third and fourth record, getting better as they go.
The stakes are higher, yet somehow, the quality of their output rises accordingly.
To do this, they have to learn to be creative on command. They have to set aside time for doing the work and then do it. Writers, painters, designers, and other makers have to go through the same thing. Their livelihoods depend on it.
When I was in my teens and twenties, I couldn't help writing songs. It's what I did when I had long stretches of uninterrupted time, often late at night.
Well, these days, I don't usually have long stretches of uninterrupted time — and if I do, the list of tasks I'm supposed to complete in that time has grown much longer. If I want to write a song, I have to schedule an appointment with myself to do it. If I don't, no song is born.
Yes, this puts a bit of pressure on the ol' creative process. "You mean, right now? I have to come up with something right now?" But I can do it. I can write a song under those circumstances.
Inevitably, some or even most of the output will be mediocre. But that is part of the deal. I have to practice. I have to engage in a practice. Like an athlete getting back in shape after an injury, I have to push through the rusty skills and uncertainty in order to get to the threshold of mastery at which the results start improving.
And I can — we all can. And whether we do is up to us. Imagine John and Paul, in the eye of the swirling hurricane of Beatlemania, facing each other across hotel beds to write gems like "If I Fell" or "Baby's in Black." If we do the work consistently, we can get good at doing it whenever and wherever it must be done. This creates a virtuous cycle in which we can engage in creative work more frequently and hasten our growth as artists. After all, if the conditions don't have to be a certain way for us to create, we can create all the time.
What we need in order to do creative work, then, is pretty simple: A sense of intention ("tomorrow, at 8:00 AM, I will write for an hour") and a willingness to do it badly.
Yeah, we can and should take classes, read books, seek mentors, and invest in the development of our craft. But none of that is a prerequisite for making something. We can make use of the skills and knowledge we have today.
You can be creative on command, starting right where you are. What will you make?
