Dramatic? Yes. Honestly though, this has been a theme for me with every step I’ve taken this week as I’ve explored ideas as to why I’ve lost my creative spark. Or at the very least feel like I have. It’s felt like a decade of burden stacked on my chest that I can’t seem to shake and for the life of me I haven’t been able to find the light to lead me out.
I suppose an obvious elephant in the room that I need to address is my ongoing battle with mental illness. That seems like an obvious culprit, right? Because despite popular ideas around the tortured artist, I think as a society we know enough about mental illness now to understand that it can be utterly crippling and debilitating. Being depressed doesn’t make someone creative. Being depressed takes away your will to do anything most days—including the things you love most.
Mental illness alone is not the culprit here though, as I’ve been wrestling with that far longer than I have this soul-crushing inability to sit down and create. It impacts it, for sure, but the root of the problem is something else entirely.
Or perhaps they’re all connected?
“You should never try make your passion a career!”
Isn’t it interesting how polarised this can be depending on who you talk to? Voices declaring follow your passion and keep your passion a hobby are often at war on this topic as though they alone can be correct. Do I believe there’s merit to either argument? I think both can be true, as it’s an extremely individual thing based on your passions and motivations.
So then, was it going to university and completing my Bachelor of Arts that killed my creative spark?
I do believe some aspects of my study likely contributed, but on the whole, no. In fact, as much as parts of my study disconnected me from my creativity, other aspects forced me to reconnect with it or see it from different perspectives.
I initially started this blog in August of 2013 after attending an event at Penguin Random House in Melbourne. I’d met a few authors there that night. Astrid Scholte wasn’t published yet, but she was one of the first friendly faces I talked to. It was when I met Will Kostakis and was getting him to sign my copy of The First Third, that he looked up at me wide-eyed after seeing my name. “This is such an awesome name. I hope you own this.” They weren’t the exact words that left his mouth—it was over a decade ago now, I don’t remember. I do remember that message though and the way it made me feel.
I’d been sitting on this URL for a few months at that stage, but after that event, I went home, took a steadying breath for courage, and started my book blog which I would go on to actively maintain for several years.
The fire that lit my inspiration and motivation eventually flickered out though, and this became an empty space of false starts, and declarations of “as an aspiring author, I don’t believe I should be publishing my honest thoughts on the works of others publicly anymore”, and gradually social disconnect from the social circle I’d wrapped myself up in.
Somewhere in the midst of all that, I started my degree. I hated it with a burning passion. At least, I did until I finally found the fields of study that resonated with me the most. Creative Writing and Digital Media. The former forced me out of my fantasy-inspired bubble more often than I cared for, yet it still served a purpose. I explored, I learned, and I grew. The latter provided a learning environment that felt more like play than study—yet I learned so much more from those experiences.
It also forced me to relaunch my blog, as most assignments were expected to have tasks completed across multiple platforms such as Twitter, YouTube, and SoundCloud, to name a few, and be presented in cohesive blog posts. Part of me hated it. I’d always used this space for non-scholarly purposes. Yet, it also dragged me back to social media spheres, and contemplating why I didn’t blog anymore.
So, no. Following my passion through education toward a future career didn’t kill my creativity. At least, I don’t think so.
Earlier this year, I thought I’d check out Substack, and see if it was a viable newsletter platform for me to start building email lists ready for when I eventually re-publish my books The Last King and The Gem of Orithian (both of which have been calling to me with sad little whimpers lately as I’ve flagrantly ignored their digitally sliced up forms). When looking for ideas on how others used the platform, and trying to figure out if it would even do what I hoped it would, I stumbled across the work of Mike Harlow.
It was probably about another month before I actually started reaching out to him or others in his community, but through that chance encounter, I ended up forming a lot of new friendships with an amazing group of people.
It was only a few days ago that I checked out a Substack one of them had just started: Lia’s Adventures in Readerland. I was apprehensive, because I feel I do need to steer clear of book blogging spaces to a degree, but I wanted to support her and was super proud that she’d taken this leap to start this project.
I ended up writing a Substack of my own (finally) after engaging with Lia and being inspired to do so. That inspired thing felt kind of nice. I’d forgotten what that was like to be honest.
Since then, I’ve been thinking a lot about some of the conversations I’ve had over the last few months with both Chris and Kody, two other friends I’ve made through Mike. We talk about many things, but our conversations that have left a mark on my sludgy brain mostly seem to focus on how we’re being torn away from positive content on the internet as algorithms favour the rage farmers, but also how when you stop creating things for yourself and worry too much about others, it will eventually kill your creative spark. Or at the very least dampen it.
I remember one conversation where I spoke about how I needed to fix up my website and get it functional again, but I had no idea what kind of content to populate it with. Kody told me he wanted to learn more about my creative processes and journey. The good, the bad, and everything in between.
He also told me he’d come after me if I deleted it all like I have a history of doing.
Has this blog post answered any questions or achieved anything? Not yet, and it may not.
It’s likely what kills creativity may be unique to you. Some thrive on creating things that meet the needs of others, while others thrive when they think the world can’t see them and their creations are theirs and theirs alone. There are others who perhaps sit somewhere between those two.
This posts title suggests a more definitive answer than that, yet, it’s ultimately a reminder to myself to stop worrying about what others think of what I create. In no way do I believe that I’m gifted, but making things is what sparks joy for me. I’ve been without this for too long.
God has gifted me with a way to express my ideas—even if no one else appreciates that gift—and I need to learn to embrace it without fear. Or at least with less fear.
I wrote this tweet while depressed, full of regret, and in a really low place. Honestly, I was being angry and completely emo. When I woke the next morning, it had received positive reactions which surprised me. I went back and re-read it, and still saw myself being emo. I took a deep breath and attempted adopting the mindset of the positive responses. When I finally saw it, I raised an eyebrow. I hadn’t anticipated a personal lesson on perspective.
You’re never going to be enough for anyone else, so be your best for you, trust your instincts, and always put God first.
— Millicent Nankivell (@millienankivell) September 24, 2023
Does all this rambling mean that I’m back?
Yeah. Yeah, I think it might.
I’ll do as my friends have suggested and share my creative processes and journey. I’ll try not to worry too much about what others think of me or my creations. After all is said and done, if you’re creating and sharing your output, the people who need, want, or value your effort and hard work will find you eventually, and the rest honestly don’t matter—at least not as far as your personal creative journey goes, obviously other people matter, but their opinions shouldn’t stop you from pursuing what you love.
Unless you love murder or something.
Don’t do murder.
1 Comment
Leave your reply.