The Power and the Fury of Routines for Creativity

This past week I never updated my to do list or tracked my daily output. Without a specific list of what needed to be done I did my work and came pretty close to getting done what needed to be done. This week, at least, I didn’t need the list.

That’s not how I want things to go. I have a vision—possibly delusional but a vision nonetheless—of me accomplishing lots of creative things, some of them amazing, some of them profitable. I have a list of those things and by adding them to a todo list, the theory goes, I’ll get them done sooner.

The todo list was shoved aside and I worked by instinct.

I still recommend using a list. What got me through the week is recurring work, such as this newsletter, my author newsletter, and a class I’m taking. The past four weeks have been nearly identical for my creative work.

It’s worth reviewing your list to verify it’s there to help you complete projects rather than just part of a mega-routine that dominates your life.

Creativity makes our lives better. But sometimes we can become institutionalized by our routines, and lose sight of what matters.

The reason I skipped the list this week was pickleball. I’m entered in a tournament and the training with my partner intensified.

This morning, I glanced at my monthly and weekly planner, checked the todo list, and realized I didn’t do so badly after all.

In general, I want to make sure I make time for creativity most, if not all, days. I also want to have a normal life, busy with my family, friends, and community. I want to have fun.

I use routines to bring me back to the writing desk. Occasionally, routines raise themselves up as the point of your work, rather than a means to achieve the goal of your work. Allow me to illustrate.

My hope for my writing is to create entertaining, satisfying, and compelling novels that reach a large audience. That is, I want to be commercially successful and make some money without sacrificing artistic integrity. To do that, I have routines that keep me writing, building my platform, and improving my skills.

Sometimes, though, the routines seem like the only thing that matters. They can take over your day-to-day, and intrude on normal life. For instance, I’d heard a few stories about writers who sacrificed their family life because they thought “writing” was more important than being part of their family.

It’s not.

Family and friends and your community are the most important part of your life because those are the fundamental elements of a good human life. Creating art and telling stories is part of a good life, too, but creating and writing is better when you’re part of a community. To sacrifice family and community for writing is a mistake.

There’s a strong possibility that your art or writing will never find an audience. It’s great when it happens, but you have to face the prospect that it won’t happen. To dedicate your life to those things at the expense of family and community is to deprive yourself of a good life.

Use routines to help you create and write as part of your life, not as the main focus of your life.

Yes, there are instances where folks set themselves apart from society to focus on their art and derive great success. So maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about.

Maybe I’m explaining my lack of success by defending my priorities and choices, looking back at forty years of struggle. Maybe my psyche is protecting itself by claiming that I’ve had a good life of friends and family even though my writing hasn’t found an audience.

These are choices each person has to make.

The best life is when you can have both artistic and commercial success along with family and community.

It’s useful from time to time to step back from your routines—whether intended or by accident—and evaluate how it’s all working out. Adjust as needed.

Image is Prince Amar Singh (1672–1710) Drives His Own Elephant, c. 1695. Attributed to Mewar Stipple Master (Indian). In the public domain, courtesy of The Cleveland Museum of Art