I’m not sure where creativity comes from.  And honestly, I can’t define it either.  I can’t draw you a picture or show you a photograph.  But even so, I’ve discovered recently that creativity actually exists as a concrete, substanitive thing. A thing with proportions and weight and mass.  I know this because for a while I had it, and I felt it — and then I ran out.

And this isn’t the first time.

It makes me think of that cliche — “the well of creativity.”  And cliche’s are rooted in some truth which is why I’m pretty sure I’m not completely insane when I say I have a Well of Creativity inside myself.  This is a really cool thing.  Until I discovered one thing.