In these chaotic, stressful times, it feels like the default setting is survival. We table the “creative stuff” for later—some undefined “someday” when things calm down.

While many of us sigh longingly about wanting to go on a solo writing retreat,  usually it ends there. Better to keep it a far-off fantasy than an up close reality, right? If we actually GO, who knows what might happen!

We all know how to create from emotional pain (Van Gogh, anyone?). But what is less discussed is creating from physical pain.

Sigh, I’m blocked. This blog and other writing has been on my to-do list, but when I try to sit down and write, the feeling is “blech.” No interest. I’d rather clean toilets.

I finally understand what my writing clients have been experiencing for years. They have gone from insisting they are not writers… until in a flash they understand, beyond words, that they are.

It’s hard being a Creative. Yes, it’s also fulfilling, enlivening and essential. But some days it’s dang tough to put yourself out there… again. There’s the tight feeling in your chest when you present something and don’t know if people will be more mesmerized by the fly on the wall than your words. Or when you write a personal memoir or blog and it feels like leaping out into the world naked. The tiniest stone thrown from a reader can hurt on exposed skin.