My husband just opened a business, but instead of being burned out and uninspired, he’s actually become more creative. Before the gym opened, when he was deep in planning stages, he picked up his guitar for the first time in months and started playing every day. And lately, even with the gym in full swing and growing every week, he’s gone full-in on photography, learning about cameras and shutter speed, finding a local shop that develops and scans film, and even starting a new Instagram for the photos he’s taken. Starting a business has eaten up almost all of his free time, but it’s also actually encouraged him to use what’s left in a way that’s creative and life-giving.
I, on the other hand, have an abundance of time (relatively, at least), and am not using it creatively. Almost at the same time Russell opened the gym, I shut down my podcast, the Localist. I wanted to have more time to write, and I have written a little bit. (More than a little bit, really — I finished the draft of a book.) But I haven’t felt inspired or excited. Writing feels like a slog, I’m rarely in a flow state, and I don’t look forward to sitting down at my desk. (My book draft is about as good as you’d imagine it would be having been written with this attitude.)
There are a million difficult things about being a business owner, of course, and Russell is feeling those, too. He’s tired. He has almost no free time. He’s always being pulled from the gym to his day job, always wishing he had more time to give to whichever one feels neglected at the moment. I’m busy with my day job, too, but Russell’s busy become a crucible for the fires of creativity, and mine’s a wet blanket.* Why?
I have a theory about the reason, and so does Russelll. My theory is that inspiration breeds inspiration, and because his life has opened up in one area — opening a jiu jitsu gym, which is a dream he’s had for years — other creative doors are opening up for him, too. By contrast, I’ve spent my life pursuing work as a writer, and I work as a manager; most of my day is spent looking at numbers and telling people things they don’t want to hear, and it’s hard to switch from practical mode to creativity just because the clock strikes 5:00 p.m.
I mentioned this to Russell, and he had a less existential, more practical theory: Because he has limited time and can only find small moments for creativity, he spends more time acting and less time deliberating on the perfect time and way to act. In other words, while I might spend 20 minutes thinking about which coffee shop provides the perfect ambiance for writing (and subsequently talk myself out of writing altogether), he spends those 20 minutes actually shooting, because he knows those few minutes are all he has.
I’m not sure who’s right, but I can tell you whose theory is more useful, and I’m sad to say that it isn’t mine. Just deciding to “be inspired again” isn’t something I know how to do, but deciding to work when I have a bit of time, even if the scenario isn’t perfect, seems pretty doable. Maybe I can stop being so rigid with myself about demanding an hour of uninterrupted writing time every morning, and start using the 10 minutes I have between meetings to knock out a paragraph or two. (It’s even possible that writing in the small moments will even help me build the muscle to enjoy the longer ones again.)
I don’t think I’m wrong about the idea that inspiration breeds inspiration. But it’s not the only way to be inspired, either. Finding stolen moments, practicing something just because you love it and not because you’ve committed to the discipline of it, and being a little more playful with your art and your time — maybe those are ways to find it again, too.
* I submit this sentence as proof that I am trying too hard.