Ideas Are Entities You’re Responsible For

Rick Rubin, Elizabeth Gilbert, Steven Pressfield, and Ed Catmull on your creative obligation (if you consider yourself a creative):

Look at any of us weirdos who’ve been at the creative game long enough, and you’ll discover we believe in magic.

Or God.

Or the Muse.

Or the Universe’s plan.

Or all three.

“Without the spiritual component, the artist works with a crucial disadvantage. The spiritual world provides a sense of wonder and a degree of open-mindedness not always found within the confines of science. The world of reason can be narrow and filled with dead ends, while a spiritual viewpoint is limitless and invites fantastic possibilities. The unseen world is boundless.”― Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being

If you’ve been creating for some time now and consider yourself a creative, but you don’t believe something metaphysical is at play in your work, perhaps you’re mistaken.

Or at the least, you’re at a disadvantage from not believing so.

The greatest mistake you can make is to think that ideas come from you.

It only disappoints you when the ideas don’t come.

You start to get angry with yourself because you can’t think of anything.

And even worse, you begin to say foolish things like “I’m not creative.”

Imaginator , if you’ve ever solved a problem before, you’ve participated in creativity.

Just because you don’t partake in it often doesn’t mean you’re incapable of doing it.

But while we grapple with the thralls of creativity , we have to remember:

Ideas don’t come from us. They come to us.

Your job is to capture them before they’re gone forever.

This becomes more and more apparent with each new music commission I tackle.

As a composer, I’m tasked with a seemingly impossible goal to write a new piece of music that no one has conceived of for a group of musicians everyone has written for.

You’d think everyone exhausted the options.

What else can I add?

How do I make this fresh?

How the hell do I come up with an idea?

And therein lies the problem.

The healthiest thing I’ve applied to my creative process is to realize that one doesn’t simply “come up” with an idea.

They “come to” the idea through an inexplicable force that pairs said creator and idea.

And maybe that “force” is the idea itself. But whether the idea had help in finding you, understand this:

Ideas are alive.

“I believe that our planet is inhabited not only by animals and plants and bacteria and viruses, but also by ideas. Ideas are a disembodied, energetic life-form. They are completely separate from us, but capable of interacting with us — albeit strangely. Ideas have no material body, but they do have consciousness, and they most certainly have will. Ideas are driven by a single impulse: to be made manifest. And the only way an idea can be made manifest in our world is through collaboration with a human partner. It is only through a human’s efforts that an idea can be escorted out of the ether and into the realm of the actual.”― Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

Ideas are alive. You’re responsible for them.

You’re the chosen one. The idea chose you as a host.

You are but a mere conduit through which creativity flows .

This doesn’t mean you aren’t responsible for your creative success.

A lot of the task is still up to you.

You still have to manifest the idea; An idea can’t come to fruition without the help of a human host.

And even if the idea leaves you to find someone else, that host will manifest it slightly (or completely) differently than you would’ve anyway.

Both of you would still be right.

The idea simply wants to come about in the best way it can, and it wouldn’t have chosen you if you weren’t ready.

“In short, if the Muse exists, she does not whisper to the untalented.”― Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

Even if you don’t feel ready, you are ready if that idea comes to you and nags at your soul.

You’re meant for this.

Until you aren’t.

You need to move fast. Your job is to capture.

And if this sounds like a bowl of hoopla to you, I suggest you keep an open mind and try it out. (You’ll need that open mind for creativity anyway).

It’s not about what’s true.

It’s about what has to be true for you to do the work.

I’m not saying to use the idea of “ideas as entities” as a means to “trick” yourself into accomplishing some creative feat, but I will tell you that the more I treat ideas as beings, the more ideas come to me, and the more creative I am.

It’s as though keeping an open mind is the only ideation method I need.

Why does this work?

Ed Catmull, the co-founder of Pixar Animation, may give us the answer. In his introduction to the expanded edition of the hit book, Creativity, Inc. , he says:

“This book was never intended to offer a clear, simple path to creative success. It was, instead, about the ongoing process of building cultures in which creativity is possible.”

That’s the key.

Like opportunity, ideas will always come.

Also, like opportunity, the best ones are lucky.

But we make our own luck. We increase our odds.

We foster or nurture environments in our minds that increase the chance of them coming more frequently.

Ideas will approach you when you’re ready, so you must continually show you’re prepared to receive them.

This is what the top creatives are good at.

Treating ideas as beings is establishing a culture where creativity will thrive.

Our task is to invite creativity to show ideas that we have the ideal place for them.

Right here.

If you are open enough to believe in the sentience of ideas, your gates are wide open to receiving them.

But ideas still have their own schedule.

Even if you’ve set up the proper place for them, ideas run their own time.

That doesn’t mean ditch the hospitality.

If you’ve made the bed and have the coffee brewing, you’re better off than those who don’t, and thus, you’re more likely to receive.

But we must think of ideas as “seeds:”

“In nature, some seeds lie dormant in anticipation of the season most conducive to their growth. This is true of art as well. There are ideas whose time has not yet come. Or perhaps their time has come, but you are not yet ready to engage with them. Other times, developing a different seed may shed light on a dormant one.”― Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being

Rubin calls the beginning stage of the creative process the “seed phase.” This is where you are collecting or capturing anything that intrigues you.

That “inkling” comes to us, whether through a plot point, a particular chord, or a striking image.

It’s why songwriters or any other creative can’t tell you an exact process—it’s always different.

Why?

Because seeds come as they are whenever they’re ready, and as Rubin mentioned above, they look for the best season to appear.

That “season” may not always be when you’re at the piano.

It may be when you’re in a porta-potty at a music festival, on a long walk, in the shower, or at an orientation for a new job (speaking from experience).

Ideas run on their own time, and I try to capture seeds as quickly as possible in whatever way possible. I use the tools at my disposal.

Often, it’s a voice memo recording.

If I can’t yet get to my piano or music notation software to develop that seed into a full-fledged idea, I have to find a way to harness that seed with what I currently have until I can.

I don’t want to lose it.

It’s a gift from the Muse.

Final Thoughts (The Muse)

In Greek mythology, the Muses are goddesses considered the source of inspiration for the arts.

“When we sit down day after day and keep grinding, something mysterious starts to happen. A process is set into motion by which, inevitably and infallibly, heaven comes to our aid. Unseen forces enlist in our cause; serendipity reinforces our purpose. This is the other secret that real artists know and wannabe writers don’t. When we sit down each day and do our work, power concentrates around us. The Muse takes note of our dedication. She approves. We have earned favor in her sight. When we sit down and work, we become like a magnetized rod that attracts iron filings. Ideas come. Insights accrete.”― Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

Pressfield talks about the Muse in his books a lot, and I love it.

Earlier, we mentioned how perhaps another force aids in pairing an idea with its host.

Maybe that force is the Muse.

But the Muse wants to see you to meet her halfway.

Which means:

Creativity is forced.

It’s not enough to open your mind to receiving and waiting.

You have to do something with your time.

As magical as creativity can be, there’s a lot of grunt work involved. It’s mundane and anything but glamorous. It’s not as thrilling and mystical as the seed-gathering phase.

This other half of establishing a creative culture is about demonstrating to the Muse that you’re dedicated through your work ethic.

This is the “forced” part .

You can’t just be hospitable.

You have to prove your worth through action.

You have to become a vessel worthy of success.

Hospitable hosts have fooled good ideas for years.

The ideas wait.

They wait and wait for the moment you’ll actualize them.

Half the time they wait so long, they begin to lose their sparkle, their glow, their magic.

They wait around for you until they die or find someone else to bring the magic back.

You have to act.

“As if catching fish, we walk to the water, bait the hook, cast the line, and patiently wait. We cannot control the fish, only the presence of our line. The artist casts a line to the universe.” — Rick Rubin

It doesn’t take much to prove your worth and show your dedication to the Muse.

Most of the battle is showing up.

You have to cast the line.

A photographer must photograph.

A composer must compose.

A writer must write.

A painter must paint.

A coder must code.

You need active patience.

You work independently and capture inspiration if it comes, but you don’t wait for it.

You do something with that time. Making the bed and brewing the coffee isn’t always enough to “fool” the Muse.

The Muse wants to see you begin the work. She wants to see, with her own eyes, that you aren’t dependent on her for creativity.

She already knows you are, but she wants to know that you want to create great work so badly that you’re willing to walk alone.

She wants to see your dedication to creating something great with your own hands that hadn’t yet existed (at least in the physical world).

So, force creativity (gently).

Cast the line.

Bide your time.

If you found value in this, you’ll love my newsletter for creatives, The Imaginator Conglomerate. Subscribe (free) and get your FREE Creator’s Handbook to Fulfillment.