This fall has felt so thick and syrupy to me for some reason, and I just haven’t felt much like doing anything. There are the regular things that need to get done, like feeding my people and cleaning the house, and doing the work I get paid to do, but otherwise, meh, just not interested in writing (here or elsewhere), decorating, playing, or whatever. 

So, I was a little stirred from my rut when I read a recent post by Melissa over at Under the Elderberry Tree called “Work(s) in Progress: on the Creative Ebb and Flow.” 

Her timing in her creative cycle totally resonated with me. And while there is no world in which I would ever have as many creative crafty projects going on as Melissa routinely does, I loved the framework (authored by Kening Zhu) that she shared about the creative process having stages. The cycle, similar to seasons, acknowledges that even a “consistent” practice of creativity goes through some changes and is not just “I write for 2 hours every day without fail.”  Here it is:

• Inspiration/Ideation — new visions and ideas arriving (spring season)

• Production — the focused, deep flow of materializing an idea into form (summer season)

• Release – the act sharing your work (autumn season).

• … and winter, of course, is a season of hibernation and silence.

The creative process then (like all processes) requires a rest. We’re not AI after all. We can’t just make sure we have enough memory, energy, and water to keep us cool and go on making up crap forever. We do need a break. 

One of my favorite vloggers, Morgan Evelyn Cook, recently talked about this trick her therapist taught her (I linked to the good part of the video). The trick is simple: reframing “should” and “have to” to “I want to.” That simple phrase started to do its magic on her, helping her get back in the groove of things she likes to do (like exercising or taking her dog on walks by the lake), despite the frigid, cold weather.  She says reminding herself she wants to takes away the guilt factor; she doesn’t feel guilty if she doesn’t do it, but she also doesn’t have to feel bad if she doesn’t have the motivation in the moment, because she knows overall it’s something she wants to do because of how it makes her feel or the long-term benefits. She knows if she can get up the motivation to do it, she’ll enjoy the results. But it doesn’t mean she needs to do it today or everyday. 

Now, Melissa in her post said she did “want to” do all of the crafts she’s been leaving undone, and so that part seems taken care of. Then I thought of the other spectrum of this seasonal creative framework, the discomfort embedded along the way.

It reminded me of a TedX talk by author Leigh Bardugo where she proposes that the ability to create rests on the ability to tolerate discomfort, and that all art is borne from a process that includes “good discomfort”. She talks a lot about differentiating the good from the bad, but I think, in my experience, there is some good discomfort in every stage. 

In spring/ideation, there is the discomfort of having to let go of all of the ideas to pick just one. When your brain overflows with ideas, it’s hard to choose a project to hold hands with and march forward. As a person in procrastination therapy for many years now, I know this is the source of most of my issues; as soon as the ideation process is over, the work begins, and I hate to have to stop dreaming and put pen to paper. 

In the summer/production phase, there is the discomfort of seeing things through, overcoming the obstacles that arise, and working your way out. The blood, sweat, and tears, whether literal or figurative, run through this part of the process. 

And in autumn/release, there is that dread that no one will like it, that they might actively hate it, that it won’t land the way you’d hoped, or worst of all, that no one (not even you) will care that it’s done. 

The pain of wintering is easy enough. It feels deceptively like comfort – the cozy quiet of doing nothing. But the discomfort lies in the question, “Will I ever be able to do THAT again?”

So where does “I want to” and “good discomfort” fit in in the framework of the creative seasons? And is there comfort to be found in the good discomfort? 

If I have to feel the pain of stopping dreaming, the good news is I will be able to come back to this part of the cycle again. There are always more opportunities to dream. 

If I have to feel the pain of toil, that means that the thrill of problem solving and accomplishment is not far behind. And knowing that I will learn something that will help me in the future, maybe even something I can pass on to others, is exciting.

And each time I release some work into the wild, I am gripped by dread. But there is always the hope that one person will tell me how much it meant to them. It is a feeling beyond praise, beyond pride. It’s a glimmer of connection and understanding – the thing that makes life worth living. And if they don’t tell me, then I can imagine them reading it and being filled with a feeling, and sometimes that has to be enough.

I find myself, once again, looking for the comfort in wintering. Trying to let go of the feeling of lack, loss, emptiness and pause and see the worth in rest. It’s hard sometimes. It seems like it shouldn’t be, but I think I can be honest here. There is a great fear of too much rest. Getting stuck, being unproductive, being that useless thing society has taught me to avoid being at all costs. So I took a cue from Morgan Evelyn, and then I thought about something Hank Green once told me: rest and fun IS productive, because it produces my own joy. 

A few weeks ago I sat down and designed something pretty to remind me to enjoy this season. I reminded myself of the things I “wanted” to do, not things I have to do, or things that you’re “supposed to do” around the holidays. And some of them are very silly. Most of them are super low-stakes. But all of them could be fun, and all of them have no other point. So, I can lean into the discomfort of “not much going on at the moment.” Resting with intention seems to take the guilt away. And then, I don’t have to worry that I missed it – that I let this opportunity to be lazy, cozy, frivolous, or whatever pass me by while I sat on the couch scrolling (I mean, I still do that, but only when I want to). 

This is my pretty thing – if you want a template for yourself, LMK and I can send it to you!

So, I guess next time Stevie Nicks asks me if I can handle the seasons of my life, I can confidently tell her, “Um, not always. But I’m working on it.”