The power of creativity... chapter (1)

I DREAM of standing on the Cliffs of Moher, edging towards the Atlantic Ocean, the wind snapping at my skin. I dream of being surrounded by friends and family and then falling until I’m overwhelmed by the raging sea.

I dream of a restaurant lit by candles, of medium-rare filet steak, dark red

Bordeaux and marijuana. I dream of eating with friends from college and us realising we have nothing to share anymore.

I dream of returning to my old job as a care worker in a hospital, being pulled aside by my ageing manager – her curly brown hair now straight and grey and being told, “You don’t know how to do this anymore Bryan, you’re fired.”

I dream of producing a radio show for a would-be politician and then being let go. I dream about falling forwards and of reinvention.

I dream of lying in bed next to a warm body and telling her my problems. I dream of her hands moving across the dark, of being touched and being unable to touch. I dream of standing at the top of a church putting a ring on her finger. I dream of marriage and divorce, of regret and of yesterday.

I dream of a sunny October morning, the day of the Dublin City Marathon and of being unable to find the start line. I dream of putting one foot in front of the other even though my muscles are on fire; I dream of running on until I reach the finish line.

I dream of wearing a new grey suit, of tall glass buildings in the city, of shaking my new boss’s hand and starting again. I dream of six-figure paydays, of sham and drudgery, and financial ruin.

I dream of melting clocks, war, fog and smoke, steel tipped helmets and marching black leather boots, my bloody face in the dirt. I dream of holding the line. I dream of a cold Christmas morning. I wake up covered in sweat. I’ve got an idea.

An Artist’s Slumber

In 2008, a British radio presenter asked Paul McCartney (b. 1942) to name his favourite Beatles song. McCartney answered that he loves “Yesterday”, which he recorded in 1965.

''One of mine? If I had to answer one song, it would have to be ‘Yesterday’ because it came to me in a dream and because 3,000 people are supposed to have recorded it.

That was entirely magical – I have no idea how I wrote that. I just woke up one morning and it was in my head. I didn’t believe it for about two weeks.”

Oh to sit around on the couch or lie in bed, waiting for a divine moment of inspiration to strike. Then to rush downstairs, open a notebook and bash out 10,000 words of great prose that sets the world on fire or, as in McCartney’s case, scratch out a hit record that becomes the most covered song of all time.

McCartney isn’t the first creative master to turn towards dreams for inspiration.

Spanish surrealist painter Salvador Dali (1904-1989) – he of the narrow, upright moustache – slept as deeply and as soundly as possible before working on his big ideas.

Dali depended on “physical and psychic calm” that a deep, restful night’s sleep brought before approaching the white, virgin canvas and beginning a new pictorial work.

He even went as far as to influence his dreams by having a valet pour fragrances on his pillow before waking, having melodies play quietly in the background as he slept and applying intense light to his pupils so he could dream in colours.

In his book, 50 Secrets of Magic Craftsmanship, Dali wrote to aspiring painters:

''..in undertaking an important pictorial work which you are anxious to bring to a successful completion and on which your heart is particularly set, you must before anything else begin it by sleeping as deeply, as soundly as possible for you to do.”

After a deep night’s sleep, Dali worked each morning for several hours on his surrealist paintings of melting pocket watches, distorted faces, landscapes and dream sequences.

When afternoon came, Dali returned to his subconscious mind for inspiration. He sat in a bony Spanish armchair near his painting supplies, tilted his head back and draped his hands over the arms of the chair.

In his left hand, Dali held a large heavy key, which he dangled over a plate on the floor.

As soon as Dali closed his eyes and fell asleep, his grip relaxed, he dropped the key and it landed on the plate. The crashing sound woke him, and he immediately picked up his painting supplies and recommenced painting while in a dream-like state. Dali explained,

And the most characteristic slumber, the one most appropriate to the exercise of the art of painting . . . is the slumber which I call ‘the slumber with a key,’...you must resolve the problem of ‘sleeping without sleeping,’ which is the essence of the dialectics of the dream, since it is a repose which walks in equilibrium on the taut and invisible wire which separates sleeping from waking.”

At first glance, stories like these give the illusion of the creative process being quick and easy and altogether alien from the grind and monotony of daily hard work.

Look more closely at these moments of inspiration, and you’ll discover idling about or waiting until an idea arrives is not how masterpieces get made.

Creative masters like McCartney and Dali are able to recognise inspiration and then act on it only because they’ve spent hours turning up and doing the work beforehand.

They’ve fertilised the soil and seeded their ideas long in advance. Such masters are intimately familiar with the tools of their craft, and they’ve spent time shaping fragile concepts of big ideas.

In an interview with Paste Magazine, McCartney said,

[Songs] definitely just arrive out of thin air, but I think you have to know how to spot them. I think someone building a car suddenly knows when the design is right or when the engine sounds good. After a while you get used to that, and you say, ‘Yeah, this is the way you go.’”

McCartney doesn’t just wait for ideas for hit songs to appear out of thin air. He also gets ideas for song hooks by constantly considering how others compose and then by developing his idea to spot those hooks in the wild.

As far as hooks are concerned, I must say I just love them. I love them on other people’s records. I love it. You find yourself whistling it or wake up thinking, ‘What’s that? Oh, I love that. What is it?’ The best scenario is when you realize it’s one of yours. ‘Oh, it’s the one I’m writing currently.’ That’s the right sign. But I tell you what, it beats working.”

In Dali’s book referenced above, he provides new artists with a schedule they must follow.

If you’re wrestling with an idea for a masterpiece, he recommends turning up before the virgin canvas each morning at eight o’clock and working for at least five and a half hours, six days a week until your masterpiece is complete.

I give you an hour for lunch, half an hour as the maximum which the wake of your ‘slumber with a key’ should last. I authorise half an hour for love – you see that I am making generous allowances for everything.”

Dali continues:

I guarantee you that if with the five and a half hours that I give you to fill in the landscape or sea you do not have enough...you are not the great painter of genius that you claim to be and your work will not be the masterpiece we expected from your brush.”

For McCartney and Dali, the creative process is as much about preparation and good habits as it is about moments of inspiration. Creative masters keep a schedule, they treat their work seriously, and get to it whether they’re inspired or not. You too can cultivate creative habits that change your life, and here’s how.

Sacrifice the Non-Essentials

So you want to build lasting habits that change your life?

Well, you might enjoy sitting down on the couch each evening to watch a comedy or a film or even play a video game, but now things are different. You will replace old habits with productive activities.

You won’t have as much free time as you used too. You must commit to spending some of your free hours alone in your room or studio, even if a boss or lover wants to know what you’re doing.

Are you prepared to sacrifice watching television, playing games, spending time on social media, reading trashy books, enjoying late nights out or pursuing side projects that have nothing to do with your creative passions?

Because when you sacrifice the non-essential parts of your day, you’ll gain the momentum you need to progress your big ideas.

Tame Your Environment

If you’re not in the habit of keeping a creative schedule, you’ll encounter mental resistance when you try to do your work. Go easy on yourself by setting up an office or studio with mental triggers.

Remove anything from this environment that distracts, for example, television or a games console. You could even go as far as disconnecting Internet access in advance.

Willpower is a finite resource, and you don’t want to expend it wrestling with distractions.

Remove anything from your environment that has nothing to do with your big ideas. Leave visual clues about your work and ideas. Write notes to yourself each night about what to work on the next day.

Ease Yourself into It

To cultivate lasting creative habits, prepare your work in advance. This practice ensures starting work each day takes a minimum amount of effort.

If you’re writing a book chapter, for example, open the chapter in your computer, connect your headphones and queue your writing music in advance.

This way, upon waking each morning, you’ll know what to do immediately without thinking about it.

You can also ease yourself in by spending 10 or 15 minutes reviewing the previous day’s work, reading, doodling or admiring the work of others who inspire you.

Like stretches help an athlete warm up, this will help you become more intimate with your ideas faster.

Create Space

Working on your big ideas can be messy, but you need a clear space to create this mess in the first place.

When you finish working for the day, reset your workspace and sort through what you’ve worked on. Just as a master craftsman puts away his tools after work, you must tidy your desk or studio, file your notes and reorganise everything.

Then, lay out the following day’s work and ideas and the tools you needbefore you go to bed.

Creative Takeaways

• Sleep deeply before you approach the blank page or the canvas.
• Remember, you must find it easy to begin your creative practise, and it should feel effective, efficient and rewarding (at least some of the time) if it’s going to become a habit.