For as long as I’ve known myself, I’ve been a creative individual. If I’m not doing something with my hands, my mind is turning over with ideas of what I could be doing with my hands. And if I’m not thinking about what I could be doing with my hands, I’m probably asleep… dreaming about it. I think you get the point.
Put simply, I love building, tweaking, writing, coming up with ideas, and seeing those ideas come to life.
However, as often happens when you’ve been gifted many talents, I came to a point where I started to see my talents as always needing to be attached to some kind of real-world, meaningful utility. In other words, I started to think that if I’m not doing something with an obvious, immediate, or near-term goal, it probably isn’t a pursuit worth taking.
Truthfully, that seems like a logical outlook on the surface of it, especially in a world that doesn’t make much room for, nor easily forgive, anything that isn’t lending itself towards what we’ve labelled “productivity.” After all, we have civilizations to run, and civilizations don’t run on playtime.
At least that’s what I, and I suspect many of us, tend to think.
But I’ve come to see a different perspective on this, and it’s changing the way I approach my own creative endeavors. Instead of running from the joy of creative work, I’m leaning into it. Why? Well, because Rome wasn’t built in a day, but I’m sure the engineers were smiling at least some of the time along the way.
Okay, that’s not the real reason, but it sure was fun to include that rhyme without a real reason. And, oddly enough, that’s kind of the point. So what’s my real reason? To get to that, you’ll have to stick with me through another of my personal interests: nature.
Play time isn’t a game
Ever watch a group of puppies or kittens when they’re not drinking themselves full of milk, sleeping in a cute little bundle, or crying for more food like you didn’t just feed them five minutes earlier?
Notice what they spend much of that extra time doing: playing.
On the surface, they seem to just be embracing the nature of “childhood.” Nothing is serious, nothing has urgency (except feeding time), and there’s no reason to burden oneself with the tiresome duties of adulthood. Right? Wrong.
Among intelligent species, play is an important method of learning, reinforcement, skill refinement, and social development. Even solitary animals with no obvious need for the social elements of play behaviour have been observed playing in their free time. And the more we study these behaviours, the clearer it becomes that many of the things we associate purely with “fun” are also opportunities to practise skills essential to their survival.
Play-fighting among siblings develops coordination and boundaries. Chasing each other develops speed and timing. Climbing, digging, stalking, pulling things apart and, yes, tearing the lining off your sofa, all exercise abilities that they’ll need to employ later. Yet, animals don’t stop midway through and ask, “But wait, how is this factoring into my five-year plan?” They play and explore, and in the process, their abilities become stronger because they’re being used.
So what does this have to do with creative work?
Everything, because human creativity works on the same principles.
When I write something nobody asked for, doodle with no intention of making it public, experiment with a design, learn new techniques because they look interesting, or start building an idea without obsessing over what it’ll become, I’m establishing creative security for the future:
- Refining my storytelling process.
- Sharpening my visual judgement.
- Learning how to best fit ideas together.
- Solving problems I wouldn’t have encountered otherwise.
I’m becoming faster and increasing my adaptability and capacity for translating what exists only in my head into something other people can experience. It’s me building the same creative muscles I depend on when there is a pressing demand waiting ahead. The more we lean into this, the more we strengthen the real-world talents, abilities, and skills that help us pay the bills.
Remember when you used to doodle in your notebook?
I do. I was an expert, actually. For many years I thought I was doodling from boredom, distraction, and not really trying to understand Pythagoras or his theorem for the 50th time. After all, “I never sin-ed nor cos-sin-ed to any of this!”
Yet the more I learn about the way our minds actually work, especially the creative pathways, the more I realize those doodles weren’t necessarily wasted time. Some of the ideas I’m still using today, including the very moniker I use for myself and my business, started life as doodles in a notebook.
I certainly didn’t sit down with a business plan and decide that this particular scribble would become part of my identity years later. I let my mind wander a bit, jotted down ideas, and held onto them because I liked something about them. Eventually, purpose found them, and now here we are.
Much bigger example: James Cameron’s Avatar.
Long before Pandora became the setting of a global film franchise, Cameron was already drawing imaginary creatures and worlds simply because that’s where his imagination wanted to go. At just 19, he created what he has described as his first Avatar drawing. From that single drawing came the idea of a bioluminescent world and eventually, a story. Years later, when he needed material for a film built around computer-generated creatures and a setting to place them in, he returned to that old artwork.
What began as imagination on a page eventually became a multi-billion dollar phenomenon. Of course, most of us aren’t turning our random doodles into Disneyland, and that’s perfectly okay, because that was never the point. The lesson is that, just like James Cameron at 19, we can never possibly know where our ideas can lead once we give them life in some way. Likewise, we’ll never get that opportunity to find out if we don’t let them free.
“What is this for?”
I think somewhere along the way into adulthood, many of us creatives become a little too good at asking this question: What is this for?
- Can I sell it?
- Can I publish it?
- Can I include it in my portfolio?
- Will somebody use it?
- Is this worth spending two hours on?
- What am I actually getting out of this?
Here’s the thing: These aren’t bad questions. I mean, I make a living off asking these very questions. The problem comes when we only allow ourselves to indulge our creativity when we’re able to demand the answers before we’re willing to create anything at all. We get caught up in the weeds of the verbs and forget the most basic of them all: “be”.
Lately, I’ve been trying to give myself permission to just let a thing “be”. I’ve been using some of my free time to write stories, explore ideas, and just let my creativity wander into places that don’t necessarily have an obvious destination. Will everything I create eventually become something bigger? No, probably not. But that’s part of the process for the ones that do. Besides, I get to simply enjoy being creative.
Besides, even when my creations go nowhere, I don’t. I still practised, still experimented, still strengthened my creative muscles. Perhaps more importantly, I gave myself enough room to discover something I didn’t plan in advance. That’s the key value in this.
Being aimless, with intention
This is a skill, and it needs to be handled just as carefully as any other. It’s not being careless, lazy, or ignorant of life’s realities, nor abandoning goals and pretending deadlines and responsibilities don’t exist.
It’s allowing at least some creative work to begin without first demanding a destination. It’s finding the peculiar joy in creating something just to see what happens if you do. It’s letting yourself put pencil to paper because you had a passing thought. It’s writing a story even if you never find the conclusion. It’s designing that app nobody asked for, because they never knew they needed it. It’s learning that technique you don’t presently need.
Give yourself the freedom to build the idea that currently has nowhere to go. Live a little. Find the joy in your work again. Sometimes the purpose is obvious from the beginning; other times it’ll find it along the way. Either way, the fact that you let yourself create is justification within itself.
If you want to stay in this lane
I’ve written some related articles in this series that you might find interesting if you liked this one:
The World Needs Your Input - The Roll Out Why the little idea or side project you’re sitting on might be worth giving life to, even when you don’t know where it will lead.
Rediscovering the Joy of Learning - The Roll Out A look at reclaiming curiosity, experimentation, and the simple joy of discovering something new without needing to know exactly where it will take you.
Why the human touch is timeless, even now A reflection on why human creativity, lived experience, and the personal investment we put into what we make still matter.
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