When Creativity Hurts... (It probably means you're doing it right.)

Somehow over the centuries, the word "creativity" has become associated with joyful flourishes of brush on canvas; flurries of midnight tapping away on the typewriter; soulful cadenzas on magical violins. Caught up in these ethereal images, those of us in the real world take up pen and brush and bow...and nothing magical happens. Writer's block stares us in the face. We blend our paints wrong and strange colors mar our paintings. Our bows sound make violin strings whine like dying cats. So we give up, with a shrugged, "Oh, well, I guess I'm not a creative person."

You'd probably be rich if you had a dollar for every time I've said, "No one was born talented." That said, I think we were all born creative. I believe we were made in the image of God, who calls us to be sub-creators with Him, to create in a myriad of different ways in order to bring beauty to the world. So forgive me for ignoring your excuse. You've been lied to a lot, and you need to be hit with the truth.

Sure, sometimes creativity is lots of fun. Sometimes everything works out and it feels amazing to see your ideas take life. But getting to the point where your talent takes over requires a lot of work and practice. Even when you're at the top of your game, you will absolutely, 100% guaranteed, have moments where you want to scream because everything is so hard.

But aren't the best things in life--as I often tell my children--worth the hard work?

Right now I'm almost halfway through the most creative thing I have the privilege to do as a human being; I'm bringing a human being into the world. This pregnancy, on the heels of a painful miscarriage this spring, is no mystical ride for a misty-eyed dreamer. I don't dream of the pitter patter of little feet... I fight nightmares of staring at ultrasound images, searching for a heartbeat to no avail. My body is tired. My mind toes the line of anxiety every chance it gets. Every time I think with wonder at what my baby is doing now, how big he or she is, an inner voice reprimands me, "Have you forgotten your other baby already?" In March, God-willing, I'll give birth to this little miracle and mystery, through pain and worries and so much joy it will leave me breathless, just as I have six times before. And it will all be worth it. And it will all be joy.

Creating is like that. Comparing creativity to childbirth is cliche, but a very good metaphor. The moments of greatest joy in creativity are very likely to walk hand in hand with the moments of greatest pain or grief or anxiety. And, just as the pain of childbirth blurs as you stare at the wonder of tiny hands and perfectly rosy lips, the pain of creating will take a back seat to the marvel at the creation that was made.

But just because the pain becomes blurred, don't forget that it has a right to be there. Don't feel discouraged when everything seems harder than you remember it to be last time. Keep creating in faith, for love.

It won't be easy. But you were made for this.