Five ways to get out of a creative rut

Spring replenishment for the weary, over-wintered soul

We’re slowly emerging from what feels like the longest of winters here in Scotland, one characterised by too much rain and worldwide violence.

As Easter weekend loomed the energy levels in my household dropped. We’d just finished one-rep-max week at our local CrossFit gym - the culmination of a chunky training block and the bringer of ALL the dopamine. Not only was the playlist exceptional (by which I mean 90s rock), but each time someone got a new personal best they had the joy of ringing the bell and the class would then erupt in cheers. I managed to bang out three PBs across bench press (Even Flow - Pearl Jam), back squat (Thunderstruck - AC/DC) and deadlift (Livin’ On A Prayer - Bon Jovi), before swiftly succumbing to the sore throat that signalled the latest incoming lurgy.

As the sunshine finally arrived in Fife, albeit with a side of hailstones, I took to bed to watch TV. And not just any telly, but a celebrity documentary - a sign that I was unwell, if ever there was one. After four back-to-back episodes of Robbie Williams on Netflix (which, if you haven’t seen it features a surprising amount of footage of the singer-songwriter in vest and pants - and not in the North American sense), I moved on to the Beckham doc, despite having not watched a football match since I was a student first time around. Both explored the impact of sudden fame at a young age, the ensuing mental health challenges and the pursuit of a passion at all costs. What I found fascinating was that they spoke to the psychology research I’m currently doing, and the way our sense of self-worth can be so wrapped up with our work.

While I don’t coach high profile folks, I often see similar challenges come up for the creative people I work with. Finding ways to separate our sense of self-worth from our work - and to operate from as mentally stable a foundation as possible - is one of the most important things we can do if we are to have a sustainable creative life or career. It’s also one of the hardest.

To compound things, the higher the stakes, the more we feel the need to protect our sense of self from the possibility of failure. For a musician, this might mean playing it safe and releasing a commercially viable album rather than exploring their unique style. And we see this play out on Substack also, with writers sharing the pressure they feel to deliver after turning on the paid subscriber option or receiving the highly coveted orange tick. It happens to less well known folks too, because high stakes are relative. Perhaps your finger has hovered shakily over the publish button or you’ve passed on the opportunity to share your words in a workshop. The fear of what could happen looms large.

What comes next can be creative stasis. It can feel like being stuck or stagnating. A winter with no end in sight. It’s the destination that nobody wants to visit. And yet, it’s one that we will inevitably find ourselves in, time and time again.

Other things can take us there too. One of the worst creative ruts I experienced happened back when I was a self-employed photographer. Money was a bit tight and I decided to prioritise a family holiday in that year’s budget, banning myself from booking onto any photography workshops in the process. Having already served a five year apprenticeship of sorts, my unreliable narrator of an ego told me that I didn’t really need them anymore. What I didn’t realise back then was just how much those group learning experiences recharged my creative battery, especially at the end of winter. They offered an opportunity to experiment and to be inspired that my day-to-day work simply didn’t. And as I know now, there is always more to learn. Without these creative dates in my calendar, I began to burn out. Lesson learned.

Today I find myself in a mini version of this place again. Low on energy, behind on a deadline, wondering why the hell I’m sitting here writing this oh-so-slowly, when I could be tucked up in bed with Tina or Taylor or Kurt instead. I spent the morning googling cheap flights to warm places. An internet rabbit hotel that opened with a search for a DIY writing retreat.

And here we get to the heart of the matter. My calendar is heavy with deadlines but devoid of excitement. My local writing group is on a seasonal break and the push I’ve been making on my research project has been exhausting. Which means I need to schedule a creative date, and soon. Perhaps you do too. If so, consider this your permission slip should you need one.

Maybe you need something different to fill your cup, or replenish station, as they call it in a mental maintenance book I’ve been dipping into this week. What brings you energy and fuels your creativity?

Here are some things I’ve found helpful over the years.

Go on a creative date

Whether it’s a trip to an art exhibition, a previously unexplored city or an afternoon in a favourite library, the most important thing is to regularly schedule in time to do this. Otherwise, life is likely to keep getting in the way - there will always be more emails to answer and drawers to declutter. If accountability helps, signing up for a workshop or booking a train ticket might do the trick.

Some of my favourite creative dates have included: an introduction to flying trapeze at a circus school; a visit to the balloon museum exhibition; writing workshops at the National Library of Scotland; a trip to an art supply store - which always ends with a purchase; online workshops with Arvon; a wander through the streets of Lavapiés in Madrid; trips to poetry and outdoor film festivals; a field trip to the Peak District led by Ruth Allen.

If you were to start small, when’s the soonest you could take yourself on a cheeky wee creative date? What’s on your list of things to see or do?

Collaborate with someone

I’m intrigued by the idea of making a commonplace book (more on this coming soon), and have been exploring the vast body of writing and visual art created by Thom York and Stanley Donwood, while the Radiohead albums Kid A and Amnesiac were being made at the turn of the century.

Scottish poet and playwright Rebecca Sharp, together with author and researcher Monika Szuba, recently premiered a collaborative piece, I Offer You A Needle, composed via weekly email correspondence over winter. Following the performance, in a workshop led by Elodie Laügt of the Centre for Poetic Innovation, a group of poets, including myself, braided together our words to write a collective piece. We’d been split into groups and in breakout rooms, and it was wonderful to hear the echoes of human experience when we came back together to read through the resulting poem.

I’ve also been enjoying the exchanges between Scotland-based poets Marjorie Lotfi and Hannah Lavery, whose conversation on heritage and belonging - The World May Be The Same - is as poetic as it is thought-provoking.

Finding a poet pen pal is firmly on my creative goals list. I also get fired up by interdisciplinary work and am hoping to make a poetry film with my husband, Jay (who, helpfully, is a filmmaker). And, given the number of visual artists in my local writing group, I can see some beautiful collaborations emerging in the future there too.

Which creative collaborations have inspired you? And, without censoring yourself, who first springs to mind when you think about starting a project of your own?

Find inspiration in unexpected places

It really is everywhere. Especially when you go beyond your own field of interest and read, listen or watch widely. Taking the time, and giving yourself permission, to following curiosity threads often leads to exciting new places.

Film and theatre constantly inspire me. I’m still thinking about the production of Kafka’s Metamorphosis I saw as a teenager in Prague. It was in Czech and me and my friend didn’t understand a word of it, and yet it resonated so deeply. I recently met Scottish poet and playwright, Liz Lochhead and was able to tell her how much her adaptation of Bram Stoker’s Dracula inspired me. On a dreich evening, my high school drama class travelled the 30 miles by train to see it performed at Dundee Rep. Almost 30 years later, I again took a train to Dundee, this time through heavy rain, to see my friend, Morna Pearson’s incredible adaptation - Dracula: Mina’s Reckoning. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I wrote what has been described as a “super creepy” poem not long afterwards.

In a Spark Crew workshop I ran last year, we each brought a film scene to the group to draw inspiration from. The Piano, Blade Runner and The Lost Boys inspired our conversations and writing that day. More recently, I began writing a series of ekphrastic poems, in response to the Radiohead art book mentioned earlier. This idea came from the last session of our writing group, which luckily for me happens to take place at a train station art studio right here in rural Fife (unexpected place!) and is run by the, also previously mentioned, writer and interdisciplinary artist Rebecca Sharp.

Where do you go to be inspired? And which curiosity thread could you gently tug on today?

Make time for play

Whether it’s attempting a cartwheel, blowing giant bubbles, chasing your pup around the park or a few laps of Mario Cart, time spent having fun is time well spent. Research shows that not only does play energise us and boost creativity, it can also counteract stress and improve our overall wellbeing.

One of the reasons CrossFit works so well for me is that I genuinely have fun while doing the workouts. And not just type two fun (where it’s horrible at the time but feels good afterwards) either. Swinging from bars, jumping onto boxes, skipping - these are all things that make me feel like a kid again. And a new joy is that I couldn’t do a handstand back then but I can now. I’d love to try parkour sometime - a future creative date perhaps.

The important thing is to find something that you love to do. And then do it often.

What were you doing the last time you belly laughed? What did you love to do as a child? Is there a way to recapture some of that here and now?

Find your people

Creativity sparks creativity. Whether it’s an art class or a writing group, a one off online session or a standing date with creative friends, there’s nothing quite like being around other artists, writers, thinkers and makers to get the ideas flowing. And being able to share those wobbles along the way, with folks who absolutely get it, is invaluable.

If you haven’t found your people yet, it can feel lonely to watch conversations taking place between those who seem to have already connected with likeminded creative souls. But I promise, there will be other folks feeling exactly the same way as you. I’ve gone from having very few writer friends a year ago to now being in two writer groups with people that inspire me greatly and who I know are there whenever I need honest feedback, thoughtfully delivered. One meets monthly online and was formed in the wake of a writing programme, and the other meets locally every fortnight.

If you’re still looking, there are lots of communities here on Substack that you could dip into and see if they suit you. I’ve paused my creative wellbeing membership, The Spark Crew while I focus on finishing my masters, but you’ll be very welcome to join when it resumes in spring/summer, if it speaks to you.

I’d love to hear what helps you stay on your creative path. Feel free to share in the comments any places, spaces, books, workshops or practices that you’ve found energising, useful or inspiring.