One of the most brutal things, as someone working in a creative industry, is feeling like a fraud because you’re also feeling like a shell or your creative self.
I also feel like creatives often oscillate between sharing too much about their failures and then never sharing their failures at all.
I don’t totally know why I’m bringing this here.
Maybe it’s because Twitter and blogging are cheaper than therapy.
Maybe it’s because I know other people I interact with online often feel the same. I know this because I’ve asked for help and I’ve seen others ask for help.
I cyclically go from feeling like an unstoppable creative force to operating as if I’m a husk of the writer I once was.
And AI is fine and all. Blogging with a robot is actually exciting as it challenges me to grow in new creative ways. I don’t inherently feel threatened by that right now.
But I do feel threatened by the fact that my brain has fewer and fewer creative sparks.
That almost feels like an existential threat.
And maybe there’s the fact that I’m dealing with other uncontrollable uncertainties in life right now as well.
Maybe that’s why I feel this way.
At times I’ve struggled managing to find an equilibrium between boring stability and thrilling unpredictability. I know I’ve never done well sitting in the former but the latter often leaves me stressed and in financial pinches.
And as a husband and father, financial pinches aren’t as easy to stomach these days.
And maybe my reason for writing all of this here is my brain trying to find a way to rediscover a creative spark.
Sundays In My Subaru 