My daughter and I had a great time throwing pots yesterday. There’s something special about starting with nothing but a lump of clay, and using only the wheel and my hands, turning it into a useful and attractive vessel.
That’s why I enjoy writing. It starts with nothing but an
idea, but like the pot, gentle pressure and manipulation turn the idea into a
story. One of the wonderful things about potting is that if the pot isn’t
coming out just right, the potter can push the clay back down and try again.
Stories are the same. The shape often needs to be pushed or pulled or sometimes
completely rebuilt, and that’s okay. It’s all part of the creative process.
I think people have an inborn need to create. Creativity, to
me, is to take something and transform it into something new, something better.
To turn raw ingredients into delicious meals. To turn balls of yarn into warm
hats. To fix a broken lamp and turn it into a bedside reading light.
People create in different ways. I knew a woman who didn’t consider
herself creative, but she was volunteer secretary and treasurer for half a
dozen organizations. She took numbers and ideas and organized them into a
usable form everyone could understand. Coaches take kids full of nothing but unfocused
energy and transform them into players. Parents start with helpless babies and
transform them into loving, caring adults. Caregivers turn sickness into
health.
Sometimes, creativity is hard. It’s easier to destroy than to
create. As anyone who has thrown a temper tantrum can attest, destruction can
be satisfying too. Briefly. But over the long haul, smashing a bowl isn’t
nearly as fulfilling as creating one.
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