Getting to a Creative Space

Speaking of?Timing is irrelevant, Ally and I shared a good laugh this morning as she so kindly suggested that while the older two children were with her parents and the twins were settling in for their snack, I should head out for one quiet hour during this week of vacation.

Here I sit with my green tea at Sir Walter Coffee.

Such is the reality of middle-age life with a family of six, work, and everything else that occurs on a given day - busyness is ubiquitous. As outlined in –?Leap whole heartedly?- I’ve continued to hone scheduling and prioritization amongst the chaotic bliss.

The biggest change I’ve had to make is harnessing creative energy. No longer are the days of sitting in a kayak on the lake or venturing deep into Umstead Park amongst the trees and sun writing or photographing away the weekend. Grandfather Mountain or the Uhwarrie National Forest were once quick trips; Wrightsville Beach a place to spend a quiet afternoon in the offseason.

Hours could simply slip away sitting in the backyard hammock strumming tunes. Adapt and evolve. These are all now places I enjoy with the kids, out on the water or roaming the woods. Weekends in the hammock have been substituted with splashing around in the pool.

It’s all delightful and I cherish every minute of it.

But creative time is hard to come by – it’s now deciding between?do I hit the trails at 6 a.m. or sit down to write for a hour.?Sometimes the creativity must be conjured after hours when all are tucked into bed or in the middle of the day when I need 15 minutes to step away from the workday. It’s rewarding and over time I’ve learned to maximize the output when the opportunity arises, or to at least build a framework to come back to later.

The art of the practice builds piece by piece. I’m often drawn to music and stories where moments of genius are sparked by simplicity. Here’s a few I think about quite often when I’m in a creative rut at work or personally.

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Restlessly lying in bed, I turned on the TV. This is blasphemy to me, but I just did not feel like picking up the Kindle or my notebook. Thankfully these nights are far and few between. I scrolled through the DIRECTV Guide to nothingness and settled on a Kansas documentary. Definitely not the state – the band; neither of which would particular pique my interest on a typical occasion but it was 2 a.m.

However, I found myself drawn to the documentary as it was largely the band members talking about song writing and working through the process in the studio. One particular moment sticks in my mind.

Guitarist Kerry Livgen talks about sitting at his dining room table (doubling as his “home studio) practicing finger picking, which is a far cry from the music the band is producing at that time, but something he was compelled to learn.

While picking, his wife walked by and commented that it was really pretty and he should make it a song. Kerry laughed it off, saying it was simply an acoustic finger exercise to warm up. It could never make an album.

Several days later when the band was finishing up their next album and searching for one last song, Kerry somewhat abashedly told the band he had written something completely different, but he’d play it just for the hell of it. He had put some simple lyrics to that acoustic finger exercise.

The room fell silent. Bandmates jaws dropped, all to the same sentiment of “my God, where did that come from?” And so the story goes that this up and coming band Kansas, who had gained some traction and a nice fan base, became an overnight sensation when their first?#1?hit, Dust in the Wind, was released. It was unlike anything the band had ever performed; unlike any song out there amongst that genre.

Pure brilliance from a simple exercise in a dining room, along with a helpful nudge from a casual observer with a different ear, his wife.

I think about times in my career when I thought there was an idea not worth mentioning, that has somehow become highly embraced and implemented.

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