Saturday, 8 August 2009

on being un-creative

I'm lying on my decking in the back yard, cat next to me, warmed by the sun for a change. Yes, it's actually warm enough in Manchester for me to be wearing a flimsy skirt and vest.

I'm pleased that I put up my tiny greenhouse the other day. It was a birthday gift. I have filled it with little pepper, tomato and cucumber plants that I have been growing from seed in my kitchen. It might be too late for them but I don't care. I can grow things, even if they never grow fruit. It's about the growing, not the end result.

Actually some of my tomato plants are doing very well. They are flowering in abundance, and twining their way up the back of a garden chair and the side of the shed. My mint is in flower for the first time, which is very pretty and the smell is lovely. I have some half dying sweet peas, a collection of shells, stones and bricks, a belfast sink with baby herbs, a dried-up rotten footpath sign, empty wooden crates and a clutter of pots all over the place. It is very pleasing. I feel as though I live in inner-city bliss.

I should in fact be at the monthly Paper Planes writing workshop, but I feel un-creative at the moment. I have writing prompts waiting to prompt me, unfinished short shorts, and work that could do ith a little editing. I have my book of ideas waiting to be written and so far still unwritten. I have some photographs of insitu-words to take for my collaboration with an artist. I have various reviews to write, and the books are unopened in a pile on my disorganised bookshelf.

Yes, I am un-creative. I'm not feeling the urge. And I don't feel bothered in the slightest.

Life is busy with a new job, a little romance, jobs around the house, gardening, and sometimes nothing at all other than pottering around or resting. Perhaps I'm storing it all up and I will soon have a creative outpouring. Or, I will feel inspired to pick up pen or keyboard and write about one or more of the many things that are inspiring me at the moment. Because, I do feel inspired by many things, just not in a way that makes me feel I need to explore them in words right now.

Perhaps this is weird for a writer. But I am many things other than a writer, and some of those things are not in the least creative. Perhaps if I was creative all the time, it would be less exciting, or spontaneous, or surprising and just part of the mundane or everyday or routine. Why would I want that!

So, today, I am lying in the garden, appreciating the weekend, and being thankful that sometimes I can be un-creative, and that this very fact makes the times when I am creative all the more meaningful.

2 comments:

Megan said...

Lovely.
Enjoy the sun Annie and all that secret growing,
m xx

Sofluid said...

I'm feeling the same at the moment. It makes me feel a little guilty, like I'm not properly dedicated because I've suddenly lost some of my urge to write, but I'm glad I'm not the only one and that others like myself like to enjoy some of the other things in life sometimes - a little self indulgence.

Enjoy the garden and hope those plants grow good and strong for you!