Tag: writing

Navigating the Filling-Fishing Fallacy: Balancing Inspiration and Creation

Posted on by Allan Johnson in Observations, writing
water drop on bucket photo

Part of the challenge we face as creatives is what feels like a constant pressure to come up with new ideas. We may feel compelled to continuously produce original works and keep pace with the ever-evolving landscape of our fields.

Julia Cameron often talks about how important it’s for the creative process to ‘fill the well’, that is, actively seeking inspiration, experience, and knowledge to support our creative endeavours. Creativity thrives in a dynamic interplay between exploration and expression so filling our well is crucial. 

However, it’s equally important to recognise when it’s time to move from filling the well to fishing in it, that is, taking our accumulated ideas, influences, and inspirations and break through the inertia to begin to create. 

It’s not uncommon for creatives to underestimate or overestimate just how much new information or external inspiration they need before getting down to work, what I call the Filling-Fishing Fallacy.

Sometimes we just need to start writing, start painting, start moving, or start creating. Sometimes we’ve already consumed enough inspiration to get us going. Sometimes we need to stop filling the well and start fishing in it.

It’s a common misconception that we need to inundate ourselves with new information or inspiration before we can even begin the creative process. The truth, however, is that creativity isn’t just about the accumulation of information, but the delicate balance between ‘filling the well’ and fishing in it.

By learning to distinguish between when we need to fill the well and when we should start fishing in it, we can optimise our creative process and avoid unnecessary burnout.

As I writer I used to spend hours scrolling through social media, bookmarking articles and watching videos for research and inspiration. Despite the abundance of material, I found it increasingly difficult to translate this flood of information into tangible creative results. What I didn’t then realise is that the act of creating requires not only input, but also processing and synthesis. I had to learn to take the time to think about and digest the information I’d gathered, and then to figuratively fish from this well of inspiration.

Many of us fall into the trap of overfilling our creative wells, believing that more information and inspiration will inevitably lead to better ideas. However, this can quickly become overwhelming and counterproductive. Overfilling the well can lead to analytical paralysis and creative stagnation. It’s important to find a balance between input and output to avoid getting trapped in this cycle.

By understanding the signs of overfilling, we can reclaim our creative energy and channel it into productive endeavours. By learning to differentiate between gathering inspiration and actively creating, we can free ourselves from the cycle of overconsumption that the modern world pushes us toward.

Creativity isn’t a finite resource to be hoarded, but a dynamic force that thrives on movement and expression. What happens when we shift our focus from accumulation to action?

Once we have filled our wells with inspiration and ideas, it’s time to move from passive consumption to active creation. This is where the magic happens — the act of fishing in the well of creativity. Fishing in the well allows us to tap into our reservoir of ideas and insights and transform them into tangible works of art, innovations or forms of expression. This is the phase where inspiration meets action, where ideas are brought to life.

What characterises this phase isn’t only the act of creation itself, but also the depth and richness of the material from which we are able draw. Fishing in the well isn’t just about producing something, it’s about engaging with our creative resources in a meaningful way. It’s about breaking through the inertia, the uncertainty, and, yes, sometimes the fear, to begin to create.

It’s about trusting the depth of our inspiration and allowing intuition and curiosity to guide us. When we allow ourselves to fish in the well, we can turn ideas into reality and begin to unleash our full potential. Creativity isn’t a linear process, but an iterative one, built up piece by piece over time. As we navigate between filling the well and fishing in it, we should embrace the fluidity of the creative journey and trust in our ability to navigate through its ebbs and flows.

During the Renaissance, scholars and artists created spaces known as kunstkammers or studiolos — personal rooms filled with treasures, curiosities, and inspiration. These rooms served as the physical embodiment of the creative process, where exploration and expression came together.

The cultivation of our own art chamber — whether physical or metaphorical— is a tangible reminder of the interplay between filling the well and fishing in it. It is a sanctuary for creativity, a place where ideas can flourish and inspiration can unfold. What makes the art chamber special is not only the physical components, but also the intention and energy inherent in it. It’s about understanding the symbiotic relationship between inspiration and expression and creating a sanctuary for our creative endeavours. Our environment has a profound impact on our creative process and mindset. By consciously designing a space that encourages inspiration and productivity, we can optimise our creative potential and enhance our overall wellbeing.

The Filling-Fishing Fallacy illustrates the delicate balance between filling the well of creativity and fishing in it. By recognising the signs of overfilling, embracing the act of fishing and cultivating our own art chambers, we can intentionally and purposefully utilise the full potential of our creative energy and tap into new depths of inspiration, innovation, and expression.

Digital Minimalism and Why I Write My Morning Pages By Hand

Posted on by Allan Johnson in writing

In a world dominated by touchscreens and keyboards, the reason why writing by hand is still important seems to be increasingly forgotten. The physical act of putting pen to paper has a profound impact on our creativity and unleashes untapped potential in our minds.

This year, I have gone back to writing my Morning Pages by hand and it’s made a huge difference to me.

Many famous thinkers and writers throughout history have emphasised the benefits of writing by hand—and, indeed, Julia Cameron herself made it very clear that Morning Pages should be handwritten, even if I forgot about that for a while. The act of handwriting activates various cognitive processes and creates a unique connection between the brain and the hand. The tactile experience of writing seems to anchor the information deeper in our memory, promoting a deeper understanding of the material.

In a world where information overload is the norm, it becomes a valuable skill to retain and truly understand what we encounter. Handwriting provides a pathway to better learning as it allows us to grasp concepts more effectively and subsequently stimulates our creativity.

J.K. Rowling wrote the first drafts of Harry Potter by hand. This way of writing allowed her to give free rein to her creativity without the constraints of a blinking cursor. Rowling herself has spoken about the liberating experience of writing by hand, explaining that it allowed her to explore creative tangents and unexpected plot twists.

The cognitive processes triggered by the physicality of handwriting have the potential to fuel our creative minds and push us beyond the boundaries of conventional thinking. Handwriting improves memory, fosters deep understanding and unleashes creative potential. This practise can be a powerful tool to manage the complexity of our information-driven world.

Part of the problem I struggled with is that in the digital age, speed often takes precedence over thought. Clicking buttons can feel like a race against time, where our thoughts have to keep up with the incessant flow of information. However, when we focus on the deliberate pace of handwriting, a profound shift occurs.

Writing by hand encourages a slower, more contemplative approach to thinking. It makes us savour every word, every sentence as we put our ideas down on paper. The physical effort required to form letters and words engages our senses in a way that typing does not. This deliberate rhythm can be a balm for an overstimulated mind and provides a sanctuary for deep thinking in a world where speed is often more important than substance.

Take the example of Virginia Woolf, who filled countless notebooks with her handwritten thoughts. Her methodical approach to writing allowed her to immerse herself in the nuances of her characters and narratives, creating literary works that stand the test of time. This is in stark contrast to the speed of digital communication, where brevity often trumps depth.

Writing my Morning Pages by hand has taught me to trust the pace at which ideas flow. When I used to type them, my mind would race ahead and I’d find myself faced with pages of pretty nonsensical stream of consciousness. By gently slowing down with handwritten pages, my ideas have more time to take shape before flowing onto the page.

I have realised that the deliberate pace of handwriting creates a connection between mind and paper that is difficult to achieve in the digital world. By slowing down the pace, we give our thoughts the space they need to develop and mature.

In a society that celebrates constant productivity, the value of well thought-out, well-developed concepts cannot be overestimated. The deliberate pace of handwriting encourages deep thinking and provides a counterbalance to the hectic pace of digital communication.

I see the sensory experience of handwriting as a rebellion against the sterility of digital tools. The feel of paper under our fingertips, the scratch of the pen on the page — these sensations engage our senses in a way that a keyboard and a screen cannot.

Sure, I love technology as much as the next person, but I’m learning to connect more with a form of digital minimalism, where I rely on the best of digital and the best of analogue without assuming that a digital version of something is always preferable.

Why is this tactile experience of the analogue so important? When we write by hand, we activate not only the visual sense, but also the tactile and kinaesthetic senses. This multi-sensory engagement leaves a deeper and more lasting impression on our memory.

In addition, the tactile experience of writing by hand also has therapeutic benefits. It can be a mindful exercise that anchors us in the present moment and offers a break from the constant digital deluge. In a world full of distractions, the act of writing by hand becomes a meditative exercise that allows us to switch off from the chaos and reconnect with our thoughts.

Digital minimalism is a subtle rebellion against a world that tells us that digital is the only way forward.

The practise of writing by hand is not a relic of the past, but a key to unlocking creativity in the present. From improving memory and fostering deep understanding to promoting conscious thinking and engaging multiple senses, handwriting offers a multitude of benefits.

In a world increasingly dominated by digital technologies, rediscovering the power of writing on paper can be a revolutionary act, freeing our minds to explore unexplored realms of imagination. So, in the midst of the digital rush, take a moment to savour the simplicity and richness of writing by hand — your creativity will thank you.

In The Path of Mindful Living: A 21-Day Mindfulness Companion, I lead you through a series of self-guided mindfulness exercises and show you how to bring mindfulness into your daily life. Readers of my blog can download the workbook and pullout charts for only £6.

Using Rest and Creative Cycles to Ensure a Fulfilling Year Ahead

Posted on by Allan Johnson in gratitude, Observations, wellbeing

As winter wraps London in its chilly embrace, we are grappling with freezing temperatures and the prospect of snow. I am originally from northeastern Ohio where subfreezing temperatures and deep snow are a standard feature from November through February, and something about the bracing winds today remind me of home. Like many others, it is at this time of year that I turn inwards, seeking a quieter, more contemplative rhythm to my life and creative work.

In a world where faster and more efficient results are constantly demanded, we as creative people are really seriously at risk of overextending ourselves, and there is a delicate dance between living up to the expectations of hustle culture and avoiding creative burnout. The ubiquitous messages around us emphasise the need for constant productivity, but it’s important to recognise that the wellspring of creativity isn’t bottomless. In order to be consistently creative, we must learn to find a balance between hard work and necessary rest. So strong is the social messaging around ‘speed’, ‘productivity’, and ‘effectivity’, that ‘rest’ itself has become something of a bad word and often widely misunderstood.

One of the most important lessons for creatives is to understand the power of cycles — cycles of work and rest. Sometimes these things are out of our control. For example, we might have deadlines at certain times of the year that we need to schedule in order to finish our work, or we might get sick, or other important commitments might come up that force us to not devote ourselves to our creative work as fully as we would like. 

But while there are definitely parts of the cycle that are out of our control, there are other parts that we can shape, and the winter season, as we approach the new year, is an opportunity for us as creatives to look inwards for a little retreat, however that may look for us. The winter season is an ideal time for a creative retreat, an opportunity to recharge and set the course for the year ahead.

In my own routine, I’ve learnt to appreciate the practise of an annual review in the last weeks of December (an upcoming newsletter will share my annual review process). It’s about reflecting on the past year, recognising achievements, learning from challenges, and thinking about how these experiences will contribute to personal development in the coming year. A period of rest is when we’re not creating new content or coming up with our big new ideas, but that doesn’t mean that periods of rest are unfruitful; it is an important and thoughtful aspect of the creative process.

I’m not saying that December is the month in which we simply switch off. Some of us may have the opportunity to take a creative sabbatical, which is fantastic, but there are other ways we can find this creative calm within the year. One of the best strategies I’ve put into play is the concept of planned rest on the weekends. Often we push ourselves so hard during the working week that we just slump at the weekend, binge watching TV and movies, thinking that this will relax and recharge us, but what happens is that we feel the same on Sunday night as we did the Sunday night before. What if, instead, we start the weekend with an affirmation for the activities we’re going to do to unwind and recharge, such as a long hike or a meditation class or a museum visit. Instead of just letting our weekends fall before us, we can start to give our weekends some shape, by introducing forms of intentional calm that we know will recharge our batteries and leave us ready for the week ahead.

Another way we can implement cycles for creative occupations is by introducing rituals into our lives. I’ve have lots of rituals—seasonal rituals, monthly rituals, daily rituals—that give shape and form to my creative work and practises. So during this time of calm and stillness, how about we start each morning with a very simple ritual of simply lighting a candle. We don’t need to think too much about it; this routine and discipline will nourish us. We oftentimes incorrectly think that rest and regeneration is about letting go of all discipline. It’s not. We find strength and resilience through the patterns that we create and show up for but these patterns don’t need to be running a marathon every day. These restorative and empowering rituals can be something as simple as lighting a candle every morning

Another practical tool for sustainable creativity, is something known as time blocking. When we look at our to-do list, we sometimes feel overwhelmed by the amount of things we have to do. But rather than letting ourselves fall into that feeling of overwhelm and despair we can start time blocking our diary. For example, if there are three small tasks that might take 20 minutes each to complete, we can group them together in the next one hour block in our diary. We don’t have to think about them in the meantime. So it’s not about giving up the tasks we have to do. It’s about creating routines, habits, and patterns that allow us to find the strength we need in our hectic lives to constantly be able to fill the well and show ourselves as creative professionals.

Two really great books that talk more about the importance of rest are Rest: Why You Get more Done When Your Work Less by Alex Soojung-Kim Pang and Sacred Rest: Recover Your Life, Renew Your Energy, Restore Your Sanity by Saundra Dalton-Smith. But even more importantly, at this time of year I would encourage you to simple read a book that you enjoy! A funny one, romantic one, silly one, adventurous one. Whatever it is that feels like comfort and relaxation to you. 

As we approach 2024, we can begin to embrace the cyclical nature of creativity. Knowing that as creatives we can’t work at full steam all year round, we need to find opportunities to rest, recover, and reflect. This doesn’t mean that we give up our work completely, but that we empower ourselves with forms of intentional rest. Ultimately this creates a more sustainable and fulfilling creative life for ourselves so that we’re able to show up and continue to produce as creatives, finding value and meaning in the process.