Not advancing? Redirect to find your way back
And a few words from Rick Rubin
Maybe it’s the summer. Maybe there’s a planet in retrograde somewhere. But the creative flow has definitely slowed of late. This article has taken me all week to cobble together, despite how vividly it exists in my mind. Even when I talk to other artist friends recently, we mostly discuss gardening and crochet, tattoos and music. So many of us submerged in other pursuits that keep the creative muscle flexed while we wait for the words/lines/colours to return on other projects.
My other creative work right now, what keeps the writing indirectly fed, is bread.
I started making sourdough during the pandemic. Just like everyone else.
Once I mastered the basic white loaf, I began experimenting with different recipes and various flours, branching out into focaccia and English muffins, and then eventually becoming a big fan of Maurizio Leo. At first, I didn’t want to buy the gear, but the better I got at shaping and baking, I had to capitulate. First came the scale and a blade for scoring, and bannetons soon followed. A few years in and I am finally baking some truly spectacular loaves—including a cacio e pepe version and a rye/spelt/whole wheat loaf that is perfect for fried eggs with a dash of hot sauce.
When people inquire, I warn them that sourdough baking is about process, patience and time. The folding stage often runs from 2-4 hours. Once baked, loaves must cool 3-4 hours before you can slice. If I start a leaven on Thursday night, I will have to stay home most of the day on Friday and I usually bake on Saturday morning.
This schedule isn’t feasible for many, but it’s perfect for writers—when the flow is flowing and especially when it isn’t.
There are so many similarities between the writing process and breadmaking. Periods of focus, times of rest, can’t be rushed, consistency leading to results, snacking… But what I like most is the alternating between doing a little writing, getting up to fold, doing a little more writing, taking a few minutes to shape, how the two activities overlap to keep me engaged, the way breadmaking forces me to stay put and keep turning to the words rather than escaping the house in search of distraction.
I have to wait 30 minutes for the last fold, may as well try that scene again…
I also like how the physical/sensual experience of making bread contrasts to the internal/spiritual practice of writing. How the kneading complements the thought-threading. Like just maybe, moving the muscles of my hands will help clear the clutter in my brain and make way for the words to flow through again.
What are the other creative things that you do when the words aren’t being written? How does one feed the other?
If you’re experiencing a slowdown, but it’s more related to how you perceive your creative work and worries about how others will judge that work, I offer you the following from Rick Rubin. He presents some interesting nuggets that you may need to hear right now.
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And if you don’t have TikTok or don’t want to give them the traffic, here are the highlights:
“If you like it, that’s all of the value.”
“I like this enough for other people to see it. Not, other people like it, so it’s successful.”
“All that’s in your control is making the thing to the best of your ability.”
Applies to writing and breadmaking 😉