No, not my mind ... yet. After a hectic week, in which I have accomplished much in the arena of home improvements and zero in the progress of my second novel, I am left wondering, "Where did all my creativity go?" Did I place in a box and accidentally stick it in the attic? Did it get donated to Goodwill? Where can it be? Oh no, I've lost it!
In trying to find my creativity, I have retraced my steps back to when I had finished writing the very rough first draft of Going Barefoot in Greener Grass. I recall explaining my inspiration to write as following a dream. My two very supportive sister-in-laws were among the first people I told about this dream. "Oh, you're like Stephenie Meyer!" They gushed, "She had a dream and that's where she got the idea for her books." Well, no. Not that kind of dream. Although that would have been really cool. I've been trying to write in my sleep lately ... with no luck. But my sister-in-laws make a good point. Stephenie Myer apparently unlocked her creativity when she was at rest and her mind was free to wander. In the past, my writing has been done in the quiet moments while my children slept. And before I tapped one computer key, my imagination had wandered freely. Most times, I had felt more like a reporter describing a movie scene that I was watching in my mind.
Okay, so I need to declutter my brain to uncover my creativity. But for some reason, I am hestitating. Ever since I've been putting my work out there for agents and now Kindle consumers to read, I've been second guessing my every word. So now that I know where my creativity is hiding I still can't get it into gear. I look to my children. They make Lego creations, mold Play-doh and scribble abstract art all the while never caring if the rest of the world thinks it's any good. Like most children their age, they act creatively because it's fun. Blank pages rarely deter them. Rather it most likely appears familiar. Most of a child's life seems to be a blank page waiting to be filled in with new experiences. Maybe it's time I tap into a little of their untainted youthful enthusiasm. While I'm at it, I ought to heed the advice I've since discovered: something about the first draft of a novel being written passionately. Correcting mistakes, editing and refining should be shelved until the next several drafts.
As I look around my house, I think I have found where my creatvity has been hiding after all. I've been using it and, in all probability, exhausting it, on paint colors, on furniture placement, on those new lamps I had to have especially since I got a great deal on them and on hanging my favorite pictures in new locations. Perhaps, all I need to get back on track is a few quiet moments and a good night's sleep (hopefully I dream of a vampire and a regular girl ... wait, that's been done).
What fuels your creativity? I'm up for suggestions.