After more than a decade of writing, I’d never have to start from scratch. I’ve got thousands of notes, ideas, and photographs which could serve as inspiration on any given day.
Still, I often start with a clean slate, mostly for time reasons. Once I start digging, it might take me a while to find the right thread to pull on, and then longer still to fully untangle the idea. A fresh thought, however, I can come up with, start typing, and wrap it up within a few minutes.
What’s interesting is what happens when I end up in-between these two modes of operation: Neither rummaging through old insights nor starting completely from scratch. Every few weeks, I’ll have a whole bunch of brainwaves in short succession. Inspiration hits from several angles, and I quickly open several new drafts, dropping a line or two into each one. Afterwards, I spend the next several days fleshing out these ideas one at a time.
Eventually, however, I always end up where I began: Back to blank, with yet another white screen forcing me to squeeze my brain once more. On the day, it can feel a little daunting. It’s comfortable to run through a short list of existing drafts, knowing exactly how to press play on each one. But it’s also exciting to be challenged again. To have a question staring you in the face, an open door that could lead to a million places.
This interplay of creativity is a little like the seasons: Well-planned times follow periods of spontaneity, which give way to well-planned times, and so on. The trick, as I am learning, is to enjoy both as they occur, and to look forward to the pendulum swinging to the other side rather than wishing it were already there.
Cherish painting by the numbers, and appreciate an empty canvas. New stories await everywhere—even when you go back to blank.
