…on maintaining creative practice

I have always aspired to have a daily creative practice but have never managed to sustain it for long. I love my garden – but it would surely be more wonderful if I spent a little time in it every day. I love to write – but the bulk of my writing energy goes to my business. I love to cook – but so does my husband and unfortunately it tends to be a solo exercise rather than a team effort (not for the want of trying). It’s in my own best interest to let him win that particular battle.

I have done The Artist’s Way three times, twice I was the facilitator. I adore the concept of Artist Dates, where you take yourself away from your everyday environment to fill your creative cup at a gallery or take a class or attend a performance or some other admirable artistic endeavour. I still do this from time to time, but most often with my husband or another member of my family. Is there a rule that you can’t share your Artist Date with a beloved? Two birds, one stone.

I still have a kiln in my garage with furniture and thermostat and glazing materials: the last vestige of my long lost aspiration to express myself in terracotta and stoneware. I have pastels and paints and beads in abundance, wool and yarn and crochet hooks and knitting needles. I have been making cord with a french-knitting nancy for about a year now, with the vague ambition of making a loose knit decorative rug for my daughter. The end of that project is nowhere in sight.

I’m at the very start of a new memoir that I feel utterly compelled to write, with no promise of fulfilment due to the sensitive subject matter. Writing about family fills me with terror no less than it did the first time. I wonder how any writer truly manages to separate personal matters from their creative pursuits. Where do those boundaries lie? I suppose they are different for all of us.

At risk of letting my sorry blog languish unloved, I will share this lament now and promise to return shortly with some more engaging content. Think I just had to get this off my chest. Promise to self: sit in the chair and open the document every day. Even if nothing happens after that, I’ve made contact. Hopefully something does.

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