That’s when I knew I needed to make a change. I didn’t panic. I didn’t bemoan the last couple of months (after all, I had learned a lot from them). I didn’t make any sudden visible changes. But I steadfastly began consciously working on my creativity, imagination, and idea generator.

While walking I listened to the slap, slap, slap of my feet hitting the gravel road. I concentrated on my half-swinging, half-jerking gait when I ran with a thumping bag over my shoulder. I took time to feel textures in the world around me. I gulped down books, reading at least an hour each day. I surrounded myself with words, paying attention to the cadence of people’s speech, listening to audio books and watching them play out in my brain, cheering on authors when they used creative word pictures. I pondered the meaning of different words, wondering which ones I could add to my repertoire. I randomly said words out loud, concentrating on how fun words like kaleidoscope sounded and felt in my mouth. 

I asked questions, to myself and to others. I listened to the way other people interacted with each other, noting the exchange, what made them tick. I feasted my eyes on beauty, letting my sight, and my brain, dwell until it came up with a satisfactory description instead of rushing on.

I began searching for ways to be creative other than with writing. I bought craft supplies, letting myself take time in choosing gorgeous colors and running my hand over the merchandise, feeling smooth, rough, and bumps beneath my fingers. I splurged and bought a box with 96 crayons, something I’ve wanted to have every since I was a little girl and my brother would let me sit in his room and use his overwhelmingly beautiful set of crayons to color in his Lassie coloring book.

The ideas began pouring in, tickling me with their uniqueness and making me dance for joy with the randomness, yet consistency, with which they came. Opening lines to unwritten books popped into my brain. Plot holes filled themselves. My mind was in constant motion, cataloging the world around me and storing them in my idea factory.

Today my imagination, creativity, and muse are back in full working order. Little, seemingly insignificant happenings explode into huge possibilities. I’ve reverted back to authorish me. Something as small as wearing sparkly socks with dress flats once again make me want to skip down the roads. Looking off in the distance I see an oddly shaped branch and suddenly a whole book goes poof and arrives in my brain. Sure, life might take a bit longer to live as I dance with unheard music and make a face at myself every time I pass a mirror, but do you know what? It’s worth it.

God is creative and I feel honored that He created us to be creative as well. Enough said.

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How are some ways you’re creative? What is your muse?