What Do You Do When Your Creativity Leaves You?

I don’t think it left all at once. It was more of a slow leak, like the tires on my old 2007 Yukon that seemed to always be losing air. Only there’s no filling station down the street for creativity.

A client asked me earlier this week, “Aren’t you writing a book?”

I hesitated for a moment because technically, I’ve been writing this book for years. But in the past year or two…not so much. I gathered myself enough to reply, “I am, but I seem to have lost my words. So I’m waiting.”

The sweet young woman kindly said, “I like that answer. To wait. I like that.”

I don’t feel like I have any other option. I mean, I could give up, and some days, it feels like that’s what I’ve done. But there is still a desire to continue somewhere inside, hiding, latent. I’m hoping it shows its face in the not-too-distant future. Words like “failure” and “wannabe” have a way of creeping up in these moments.

“Was I just fooling myself this whole time?”

It’s easy for me to go there; I have a strong inner critic. A hopeless idealist can easily become embittered and jaded in this world, and that’s where the creative spirit goes to die, I’ve come to see.

Is it depression? Maybe a little, but not completely.

Is it stress? I’m sure that’s part of it.

Could it be that since our current season is winter that more than just my physical body wants to hibernate? Perhaps.

Or could it be that something has been planted? A seed of some kind? Deep in the earth of my soul where it must break open before springing to new life.

I hope that’s what it is. I hope there’s a seed inside, waiting, warming, gathering sunlight and nourishment to begin the process of unfurling its small, fragile, fresh leaves towards the sky.

I hope that’s it.

And so, I wait.