I know it’s time to write when I begin thinking about other kinds of art: painting, collage, photography… When I have not had the chance to write, like now, I begin imagining how I might make a collage, or, paint something, or design a new web page.
I had not made the connection until recently. I just thought, I like to write; I like to make other things — visual things. Those are both true statements, I suppose. But once I mentioned this to Billy and he said, rather astutely, that I am a person who needs to be doing something creative, and if I can’t write, my creativity wants to come out in other ways. This is true. When I write a lot, I don’t feel the need to make some sort of visual art.
My writing has been thrown off by work, and by a busy life. I read stories of people who’ve fled their hectic days in NYC for faraway places and for impossibly small towns (there was an article in Domino Magazine this month, about an artist couple who moved to East Texas and refurbished an old gas station to live and work in, but alas, they don’t have a linkable version).
I read both those articles today, and they are not helping. Well, they help with daydreams, but daydreams don’t help with the reality, which is that I am not creating much these days, of anything.
Escaping doesn’t change this, only time does. I’m looking forward to later this week, when I might have some quiet time, to stop see-sawing and start creating.