Studio Notes: Creativity in the Age of Overwhelm
An apology wrapped in a working theory.
I need to come clean. Over the past two months, progress on editing has stalled. It’s deeply uncomfortable to admit and accept, but there it is anyway. In the midst of some personal challenges that have taken my creative energy hostage, I catch myself shaking my fist at the glory days of my creativity, when my primary artistic focus was making music and I was pumping out the hits on a weekly basis. We’re talking back to back to back ideas and relentless follow-through that almost felt beyond my control, and, turns out, I definitely took for granted. When I think about that period of my life, I can’t help but feel a bit of shame for how un-prolific I’ve become by comparison. Each creative project I finish these days requires months of recovery time before I build up the energy and inspiration to even consider diving back in. It’s a pattern that’s become painfully predictable in the last decade. Let me be clear, I do not want to go back to that point in my life. But, it’s worth hopping in the time machine to compare notes.
The Muse
The obvious place to start is at the source. What was inspiring me to write all those songs, and so quickly? Trauma, duh! My brand of CPTSD is the result of about 15 years of trauma, and I was still in it at the time. Writing and performing music was an almost involuntary defense mechanism, and I’m grateful to have found it early in life. It was my primary way to process, and there was a lot to process. All of it was an exorcism, the veiled confessional lyrics, the vocal style, the strumming technique. It poured out of me because I was full of grief and anger and sadness and hopelessness and fear. It gave me control over my story and the existential threat of the kind of abuse I suffered.
Now? The CPTSD is still present, but manageable. I’m in the safety zone, and I’ve been here for a long while. There was a period of time when I thought that was the problem. That’s why I can’t seem to maintain the same level of creative output. My life is just too boring now! What a warped perspective that is. By that logic, I just need to invite more chaos into my life to feed the little demon in my heart that is apparently responsible for writing all the songs? I hope not!
These days my inspiration comes less from an immediate emotional place. It’s more intentional and methodical. The muse lives outside of me now, which means I have to put in more work to chase it down. Still, I never find myself short of ideas. In fact, I’ve expanded my creative pursuits. Concept albums, companion books, poetry, collaborations, and podcasts. That doesn’t sound like someone short on inspiration. So, why does it take me roughly 500 fiscal years in between each project to recoup? And how come any emotional challenges that do come my way these days translate to creative paralyzation instead of fuel?
Maybe it’s…
The Method
Throughout the prolific period, it was just me, an acoustic guitar, keyboard, whatever I could find for percussion, and a little 6-track Tascam digital recorder. I wrote nearly 200 songs with that setup between the ages of 16 and 28. Never upgraded. Didn’t need to! I was a well oiled music machine unfettered by complicated production or clunky equipment.
After a significant change in genre around 2016, my gear has also evolved to give me the tools I need to produce a very different vision. Maybe we’re onto something here? Maybe the over-complication of my current production style has naturally slowed me down?
Nice try! I’m down to a keyboard and a laptop now. No more digital recorder and hours of transferring tracks to and from the computer. I don’t even lug around a guitar anymore. Laying down and mixing tracks has never been easier or faster. Sure, having infinite possibilities at my fingertips doesn’t necessarily mean faster songwriting. Especially when you’ve got a CPTSD-induced scarcity mindset that gets overwhelmed when faced with limitless possibilities. But with the time saved logistically, I think this one is a wash.
So, if the method isn’t holding me back, it has to be…
The Path
I’ve never gone all-in on a creative career. Even in the songwriting salad days, I was working part-time. But, working 15 hours a week at a music store is a far cry from the full blown career in nonprofit leadership I have now. The math tells me it has to take me longer to complete creative side projects, right? That’s the price I pay for a fulfilling career that pays the bills. It used to be 1-2 new songs a week and 3-4 gigs a month. Now, I need at least one full day of rest before I can drag myself to the grocery store on the weekend.
More of my brain space is filled with corporate jargon, virtual meetings, genuine passion for my work, and the genuine pressure that sometimes comes with passion. The slice of gray matter I have set aside for creative whimsy is smaller these days. So, there you have it. Work is the problem!
Wrong again. I have clocked countless examples of how my professional life has improved my creative life. It’s made me a highly organized, project management pro. It’s made me work smarter and it’s built up my confidence with implementing new tools. It’s made me better at the business side of art. Many of the professional skills I’ve developed have served to elevate my creative pursuits.
There are some people who cannot thrive living in both worlds, and they force themselves to choose between the instability and risk of a career as a musician or the predictability and health insurance in an industry that is much more certain to make rent. I chose both because I learned pretty early on that I need both. I need to be tethered and grounded with space to get weird in my free time. And, let’s be clear, I do in theory have more than enough free time.
The path is not the problem. So, it’s gotta be…
The Energy
Another cool part of having CPTSD is that it often comes along with chronic illness. So many days of my life are leeched away by fatigue and pain. Trudging through life with Hashimoto’s and hyperparathyroidism means needing way more rest and recovery time than I have the patience for, currently. Powering through the brain fog during the day, there’s not much capacity left over when it’s time to play. When you add the random life events that create stress or uncertainty, the tank is dry. There’s nothing left to convert into creativity. This is where I’ve been living for the last year or so.
Well, there you have it. Case closed?
Nope! Let’s take a closer look at the last three weeks. I decided I needed a major shakeup in my environment to try and jumpstart my spiritual and creative energy. The best way I know how to do that is the self-proven method of rearranging furniture. When I’m in a work slump, sometimes all I need to get a little juice flowing is to reorient my desk. Forced perspective. But this time, feeling like a major overhaul was called for, I decided to rearrange all three bedrooms in my home. This has resulted in three solid weeks, almost all of my free time, spent on moving furniture from room to room, repainting, deep cleaning, sorting, organizing, and decorating. This is real physical labor and it’s taken a serious toll on my body. But I’ve pushed through the pain and fatigue, and the stress of my entire house looking like a construction zone throughout the process. Why can’t I apply this same grit and determination to simply editing and scoring the episodes of How to Tell Someone like I intended to do this summer? Why have I chosen to distract myself with this incredibly time consuming, physically demanding, and ultimately unnecessary extreme home makeover?
This kind of blows the pitiful theory that I’m “too sick” to sit on my ass and push buttons. So, the only thing left to blame is…
The Internet
You know what I didn’t have in my early twenties when songs came out of me like sneezes? A smart phone. That’s right, I was still flipping that thing open to send a rare, precious SMS message. My phone was just another household appliance like the toaster or the countertop panini press. It was cool, but still just another thing to plug in occasionally.
I don’t need to explain to you how that’s changed. For many people like me, the phone is an extension of ourselves. I have friends that live entirely inside of it! The whole world is on my person at all times, often curated and presented without my conscious input or consent. I am shown the worst, most morally and ethically vacant parts of humanity and I keep coming back for more. I have submitted to the algorithm as a masochistic consumer. And as a creator, in the historical sense of the word, I’m told that I also need to engage as a content manufacturer as the primary method of delivery. This friction does not motivate or inspire me. This is hell.
But…here I am writing this podcast BTS on Substack. A milder, more human approach, but still playing the game. I’m still posting on Instagram. For some unknown, ungodly reason, I’m still engaging on Facebook. I begrudgingly use LinkedIn as a tool and do my best to avoid the feed at large. But, I haven’t actually bought into content creation as a business model for my creative pursuits. So, while the Sword of Damocles is dangling above my head, whispering, “Just make some process videos, it’s not that hard,” I still have free will and I’m exercising it by putting my fingers in my ears and closing my eyes.
I cannot blame the internet.
The Truth
In reality, it’s all of these things. It’s growing up. It’s evolving. It’s facing different and bigger pressures. It’s periods of poor mental and physical health. It’s existential dread. It’s bad technology. It’s navigating interpersonal challenges. It’s global atrocities. It’s probably all normal.
Although my output is lean, the quality and depth of my work has expanded exponentially with each project. I’m incredibly proud of the music I’ve written and produced as HEXTERIA and I plan to continue nurturing that. I’m incredibly grateful for the interviews that I have the privilege of editing and sharing through How to Tell Someone and I have full faith that I’ll get back on track in the process soon. I trust that the effort I’m putting into this podcast is worthwhile on a personal and professional level, and I know in my bones that people will connect with these stories in ways that are very real and deeply meaningful.
Finding the grace to take longer than expected and to approach the rollout and marketing in sporadic, nontraditional, probably ill-advised ways (like talking about the project publicly this early in the process, particularly when the process is this slow), is something I’m wrestling with now. Some of that pressure is just because my ambition isn’t always aligned with my capacity. Some of it is that over a dozen of my friends shared their real, vulnerable, sometimes life altering stories with bravery and trust, and they deserve to see this project come to light. They will!
I just have to move a bit more furniture first, I think. 👀
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I feel so seen…..
“The slice of gray matter I have set aside for creative whimsy is smaller these days.”
As always, thank you for your vulnerability. I am patiently waiting for the podcast, take your time, those who need this will wait. ❤️
First, my new favorite number is 500 fiscal years.
Second, You! How does so much warmth, talent, and insight live in one being?
Third, I get the furniture rearranging.
Fourth, thank you. This honest deep dive adds value to the world. It's a great way to spend time on the interwebs ♡