Combating hebetude is challenging endeavour, challenging, because it requires force drawn from within. In a blog post on Refraction Magazine, Allison Lloyd (writer, editor, web designer, S. Florida sunchild) manifests the secrets to re-igniting creative verve. One of her tips is exercise, the movement of blood and physical exertion being components to clearing your head and opening your mind to mental flow.
Jack London suggested going at creativity with a club.
Simons (pronounced Simmons ("I'm a rare one-m Simons"), the enigmatic and precocious protagonist of Padgett Powell's novel Edisto approaches prose by waking at four in the morning, brewing a cup of coffee and letting the oneiric pre-dawn stoke his creativity.
Acclaimed director, producer, writer of the iniquitous, Peter Kosminsky (White Oleander, The Promise, No Child of Mine), once expressed in the Rolling Stone, "Can't make the scene without caffeine").
I have to say, I employ all four. I like to wake on my own in the relative earliness (not quite the pre-dawn hours of Simons' way), brew a cup of coffee (black, no cream, no sugar. Strong.), and write something. Anything really, just so long as it helps the brewing of words and gets them nicely onto paper. If a creative streak catches, I'm writing for hours and hours on end. If not. A page, two, maybe.
But I also make sure to do cool, creative, different things, making sure I don't get stuck in a predictable routine. Like painting. I'm not good, but I give it a go. And that helps me look at things in new ways. I try to exercise or exert body as much as possible, which has benefits beyond those of creative kindling. Though, I have to say, I'm currently in a rut: why this blog hasn't been updated since my spontaneous fucking-off to New York City. I've got a job I hate, and I'm stuck somewhere uninspiring for writing. I'm uninspired, but spurring myself to break it. It's happened before, it will happen again. It won't last long.
Fiction is coming...
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