To My Creative Friends: Please Describe Your Creative Process?

I consider myself to be a songwriter, but I'm a bit of a hack musician although I can play guitar and piano somewhat.

I wrote this song in my early 20's. I think it was my best effort to date. My creative inspiration was a made-up girl I hadn't met yet...my longing to meet the girl of my dreams.

Where Have You Been All My Life

I was lost. On my own. A dead end sign swayed in my road.
I’d turn and toss. Until the light. Just trying to find that someone to hold.
Yeah. I’ve had my share, of cold and lonely nights.
Guess I never wanted what I never needed.
I knew you cared. Cause when I held you tight well
You gave me something that I could believe in.

You made me, say it…

Where have you been all my
Where have you been all my life.

You give me hope. A reason to stand.
There’s no need to question. I know who I am.
You’re making me true. Driving me mad.
You’re showing me the best days that I’ve ever had.
Call it fate. A lucky roll of the dice.
A guardian angel. A wish from a genie.
You’re in a place. Where every word defies.
You’re in every thought girl, you’re in every feeling.
Well baby…baby…

Where have you been all my
Where have you been all my life.

Well some look forever. For some maybe never.
They live for the moment, day by day.
But always treasure, our times together.
Cause you made me see it, you made me say it…

Where have you been all my life.

(Guitar solo)

(Fade Out)
 

If it's writing, my inner author wakes up not long after my head hits my pillow. Someone told me to keep a pad and pencil on my nightstand and just note the plot ideas or whatever with some key words and phrases and lay back down. But that didn't work out. I kept rewriting my notes. So, usually, I go to my computer and open Word. Problem is, I start setting up the plot idea (or whatever) by writing a preface and wind up spending so much time on that, the idea gets lost.

I was much better at painting.
 
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OneEyedDiva said:
No matter your art form...writer, composer, artist, knitter, sewer, etc. I'd like to hear how you start creating. What's your muse? Do you set time limits for yourself
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I'm a wood and word butcher

When I write, I'm driven
Into the night....into the morning
can't stop
it comes fast
Like driving a curvy country road...with the throttle stuck

Here's one I had fun with;


Gurls

My first real girlfriend, other than dancer number three from the Jackie Gleason Show, was Patricia.
Fourth grade I think it was.
She had this smile, this beguiling smile, and if per chance she cast one your way, well, it turned all us guys into befuddled masses of profound stupidity.
I was no exception…and she knew it.

So every time she would come near, or I mysteriously found myself near her, I’d make sure and do something cool, like flip my fountain pen up in the air and nonchalantly catch it, writing side down.
Unknowing that I’d just sprayed myself with a unique pattern of Sheaffer traditional blue ....Boob, James Boob.

Oh, yeah, and her eyes…flashing, batting brown eyes….and some kinda smell too....better than, say, my catcher’s mitt, or even gramma’s rhubarb pie.

That’s all I remember about her looks.
Didn’t even consider the shape of her hind end, or if she even had one for that matter.

One blessed day her parents invited my parents to dinner.
I sat across the table from her, sipping my shaken not stirred fruit punch, creating a rather distinguished looking purple mustache.

These folks had lived outa the states for a few years, and rather proudly offered up their unusual cuisine.
There, on my plate, was a heaping festering mound of curry and rice. Not the spicy curry of the orient, no, this was some sorta green slimy slices of slug guts.

Patricia smiled at me.

I forked the slug slices, and moved them around my plate, mustering and encouraging my life long taste buds for fried potatoes, hamburger patties and ketchup.
I furtively went to the potatoes.
Only they were swimming in some sorta gawd awful milk sauce...not fried, definitely not fried.
I think I had two bites, feigning nausea, gladly skipping dessert which looked much like mousse of dog vomit.

Patricia invited me up to her room upstairs (HER ROOM!!??)

And there I was, in a girl’s room.

Puffy, fuzzy things.
Pink things.
Lacy, frilly things.
Some sorta awning of posts and frilly cloth over her bed.
Pillows, stuffed toys, more pillows, more toys.

So there we were.
‘Nice place ya got here’ (I almost said ‘doll face’, but somehow knew my Bogart wasn’t working any better than my Bond).

‘You are in third place on my list.’

(‘what? There’s a list?’)

‘If you kiss my locket, you’ll be at the top.’

(‘If I kiss her locket?’)
(‘what the heck is a locket?’)

She pulled a dainty gold chain from where, I’d discover years later, cleavage came from.
Her locket was a little gold heart.
I felt really really stupid.
Here I was, in a gurl’s room, with all this claustrophobic crap, and even considering kissing her locket for cryin’ out loud.
Get me the heck outta here!

(bat, bat, smile)

S-o-o-o-o after I kissed her locket, landing me solidly into first place, we went downstairs.

Funny thing. Next day at school, I took on a much different persona.
My once pitter patting heart went back to a normal beat.
Her smile took on a more sneer like function.
Her batting eyes became nothing more than a possible Tourette.
Her smell took on the odor of curry.
Basically, she disgusted me, and less than 24 hours ago, I kissed her locket...damn.

My first fleeting relationship.

Not for locker room lore.
 
My creativity is scattered. I have so many ideas coming into my head I have to turn away
most of them and only concentrate on a few: painting, sculpting and cartoon figures.
I can work in so many mediums but I have to let go of 90% of my ideas.
I don't PLAN. I work fast and sloppy!

I must do my writing though! I have books, magazine articles, poetry, songs to write and
transcribe words from the angels! My meditation and my spiritual communications
are much more important than anything else! Nothing else in life is significant compared
to gaining enlightenment! This is my goal and I can't get caught up in small things.

Painting: I "see" in my head, what I must get on canvas. No drawing it out or analyzing
light and dark or anything. I paint like a madwoman! Everything I do has to be done
in a matter of hours.
Sculpting: This is my love! I could sculpt in clay all day and night without stopping!
It costs so much to get them bronzed so I can't do too many.
Cartoon figures: Don't show these yet. Much harder to do. (The goofy side of me)
At this point in my life, I create to keep myself HAPPY and express what's inside me.
 
OneEyedDiva said:
No matter your art form...writer, composer, artist, knitter, sewer, etc. I'd like to hear how you start creating. What's your muse? Do you set time limits for yourself. I'll add mine later.
Click to expand...
I have never been able to figure out how my muse works (although it's often in the shower when I'm nice and relaxed) ... have to rush out and get the words for the article (or lyrics) written down quickly. One thing I won't do, though, is set limits. I don't work with publishers who set firm deadlines and I don't do it to myself either... too much pressure scares my muse into hiding. 🤷‍♀️
 
Gaer said:
My creativity is scattered. I have so many ideas coming into my head I have to turn away
most of them and only concentrate on a few: painting, sculpting and cartoon figures.
I can work in so many mediums but I have to let go of 90% of my ideas.
I don't PLAN. I work fast and sloppy!

I must do my writing though! I have books, magazine articles, poetry, songs to write and
transcribe words from the angels! My meditation and my spiritual communications
are much more important than anything else! Nothing else in life is significant compared
to gaining enlightenment! This is my goal and I can't get caught up in small things.

Painting: I "see" in my head, what I must get on canvas. No drawing it out or analyzing
light and dark or anything. I paint like a madwoman! Everything I do has to be done
in a matter of hours.
Sculpting: This is my love! I could sculpt in clay all day and night without stopping!
It costs so much to get them bronzed so I can't do too many.
Cartoon figures: Don't show these yet. Much harder to do. (The goofy side of me)
At this point in my life, I create to keep myself HAPPY and express what's inside me.
Click to expand...
I also paint images that come to me in dreams or in my imagination. Am also sloppy and disorganized about some things but remember to write stuff down when being literary.
 
Depends on the art medium, @OneEyedDiva

Love starting a new knitting project and usually all that takes is a well-stocked yarn store and a pretty/intriguing pattern. Or the yarn “tells” me the stitch.

dancing: a specific song will prompt choreography (I dream of being able to pull together a square-dance-inspired, barn-raising group dance to the theme of “Magnificent Seven”) or I hear a well-known song and realize steps I already know fit it and I’m off! 😊
 
OneEyedDiva said:
No matter your art form...writer, composer, artist, knitter, sewer, etc. I'd like to hear how you start creating. What's your muse? Do you set time limits for yourself. I'll add mine later.
Click to expand...
1. I have what I think is a profound, really cool, original idea.
2. Everything stops. Instantly I put it in writing. (I practically string pencil and paper around my neck for this purpose.) I edit for clarity, and maybe even diagram it. Setting a time limit wouldn't matter, I may be hours or days at it. I can't leave it alone.
3. I see that the essence of what I have is nothing but tired old sludge, said or done a thousand times before. But, once in a great while, I think I really have something. Anyway, If I do, I put it reverently away to be worked on at leisure.

** Goat head is not too bad with catsup. **
 
gruntlabor said:
3. I see that the essence of what I have is nothing but tired old sludge, said or done a thousand times before. But, once in a great while, I think I really have something. Anyway, If I do, I put it reverently away to be worked on at leisure.
Click to expand...
Something done a thousand times can be a brilliant new creation with the unique spin of a new creator.
Signed, Kate the Fortune Cookie. 🥠 @gruntlabor
 
I start with an outline. I mostly wrote non-fiction blogs about homesteading and alternative energy systems. Now my last blog is about my life at this age. I have neglected it since I got into my story that I was writing back in 2010. I took it out and read it and have continued on. I just bring it up on my computer and I don't know where it comes from. I just go on and on. Forget social media, writing this story is way more exciting to me.
 
Alligatorob said:
Re the other thread, any ideas for how to deal with very hard high resin content heart pine?
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Never dealt with it
Heard its good hardwood flooring
The only pine I'm somewhat familiar with is lodgepole and ponderosa

The lodgepole is great for wood stoves
The pondy not so much (creosote)
But
I have this live edge (raw slab) source from a sawyer up the path
 

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