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.