Creativity’s Ebb and Flow: An Unexpected Journey
By Robin LaFevers | December 14, 2018 |
photo courtesy Alice Popkorn
As the year draws to a close, it is inevitable that our minds turn toward the passing of seasons, the ebb and flow of life, and the inevitability of change. This is particularly true for me this year as I stand poised, once again, on life’s Ferris wheel. But here’s the funny thing about Fortune’s wheel—because so much of the ride is beyond our vantage point, we can never really know if the arc we’re on is poised for an upswing, or the stomach clenching dip of a down turn.
My first post here at Writer Unboxed was on how a writer’s life was full of second chances. It was written from a place where I could clearly see the direction fortune’s wheel was taking me. And while I know that down always follows up—it’s science, after all—I was a bit unprepared for the sheer variety of downs there were. The truth is, the Shadowlands of Success are heavily populated with all manner of obstacles: swamps, impossibly high mountain ranges, impenetrable mists, mazes, and terrifyingly deep caverns.
And now for my own confession. Dear reader, I lied. Back in February of 2015, just after I crested life’s Ferris wheel, I fell—long and hard and far—into the Shadowlands. It was not a professional fall, but a personal one. It was not ergonomics that forced my hiatus. Or rather, not simply ergonomics but my body finally screaming at me—enough!—and forcing an intervention.
Because the thing about the body is, it remembers. It remembers and stores all the things that we’d rather forget. That we work so hard to forget. The truth is, I have spent my entire life avoiding the shadowlands, which probably ensured my visit was a long and painful one.
But my body knew. And remembered.
All of our experiences—physical and emotional—are stored deep within our muscles, sinew, bones, and even cells. While our minds are very adept at denial and disassociation, our bodies keeps track of it all.
In an essay entitled Infinite Exchange, David Maisel offers this stunning and startling truth:
In a 2011 paper on the medical effects of scurvy, author Jason C. Anthony offers a remarkable detail about human bodies and the long-term presence of wounds. “Without vitamin C,” Anthony writes, “we cannot produce collagen, an essential component of bones, cartilage, tendons and other connective tissues. Collagen binds our wounds, but that binding is replaced continually throughout our lives. Thus in advanced scurvy”—reached when the body has gone too long without vitamin C—“old wounds long thought healed will magically, painfully reappear.”1
Given the right—or, as it were, exactly wrong—nutritional circumstances, even a person’s oldest injuries never really go away. In a sense, there is no such thing as healing. From paper cuts to surgical scars, our bodies are mere catalogs of wounds: imperfectly locked doors quietly waiting, sooner or later, to spring back open.
The tumble you took down the stairs fifteen years ago.
The strip of skin you scraped off your shin, trying to find your way to the bathroom in the dark.
The weight of being raised by an alcoholic parent.
The shame of sexual or physical abuse.
The soul crushing humiliation of being relentlessly bullied as a child.
They’re all right there, just below the surface, and far closer than we can even imagine.
New research shows that trauma and adverse experiences directly affect our health in other ways. It’s not simply wounds that can reopen, but changes occur at our most basic cellular level. Negative emotional experiences change the chemicals in our bodies, which in turn affect how even our genes manifest or mutate.
The thing is, this concept isn’t new. The medical profession has known for a long time that such negative experiences had chronic effects on our health—they just weren’t able to quantify it or identify the mechanism by which it happened. But science is definitely making huge strides in that field and allowing us to see just how far reaching and devastating those connections can be. New studies show that the more traumatic childhood events one experiences, the more likely one is to have hypertension, diabetes, or heart disease as an adult.
It can sound so incredible, that it might be easy to dismiss. Or to assume it only happens to other people.
Until it happens to you—until the day you stand there horrified, watching a lifetime of wounds unlock their doors and spring back open, leaving you flat on your back, staring at the ceiling, and wondering how in the hell you ended up HERE.
Well, I can answer that question now. My creative journey is what took me to that place. Believe me, no one was more shocked than I! Creativity was joyful! Fun! I loved writing, even when it was hard.
But the incredibly wise Donald Maass once said that the author’s reasons for telling a story might not be the character’s reason for being in that story. I will take this one step further and say that oftentimes, the journey the writer intends to take the character on, isn’t always the same one the story intends to take the writer on.
Turns out, creativity is the carrot, if you will, that calls us forward, urging us to grow and process our lived lives.
It is not unlike religion in that by engaging in it, we are forced to interact with the world on a deeper, more intimate level than we might otherwise choose to. Of course, we don’t know that starting out. Then it is simply fun or something to dabble in, a drive or compunction, possibly even an obsession. It might be play. It might escape. But it is always important work.
At some point, hopefully, we are drawn ever more forward, engaging deeper and deeper with our craft and our artistic truths. This, in turn, opens up paths to our inner selves that could easily remain closed and unexamined. Part of us might think that sounds good—let’s avoid all that messy emotional stuff, shall we? It turns out that it really isn’t possible. We will deal with it one way or another.
For me at least, creativity has been a beguiling trail of breadcrumbs that lead not only to a house inhabited by a scary witch, but a house that can sustain me with its riches, even if, sadly, those riches didn’t taste like candy or gingerbread.
I will be honest; sometimes those beguiling breadcrumbs will lead us straight into places that are dark and murky and downright swampy. A veritable quicksand, where we will remain stuck, flailing and struggling, our bodies unraveling until we have acquired the muscle strength—or the wisdom—to extricate ourselves and resume the journey.
While this might seem like a cautionary tale, it is intended to be a hopeful one.
In that original essay for Writer Unboxed, I also talked about how I believed that writers had as many lives as cats. Dear reader, we’re about to test that theory. I stand today with my foot placed firmly once more on Fortune’s wheel. I have a new book coming out in February, something I feared was impossible two and a half years ago. The book might even be good—or so the starred reviews lead me to hope.
But where this trajectory will lead me is not clear. It could be coming around for a second rise, an ignominious dip, or even a simple stalling out at the bottom. Who knows? What I do know is that I am happy to have a chance to climb back on. Happy to be riding it once more.
And that brings us back to what I love so much about winter. It is the death of the old year to make room for the new. On Twitter, a tweet crossed my feed encouraging us to bloom, and wilt, then bloom again.
Here’s wishing you all a 2019 filled with creativity that blooms—and the courage and strength to kick the dead, wilted petals out of the way once they have served their purpose.
Has an old wound of yours (physical or emotional) ever shown up in unexpected ways? Were you able to identify what was happening? How about your character–what old wounds are threatening to resurface in their lives?
Further Reading:
The Deepest Well by Nadine Burke Harris
The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel Van Der Kolk, M.D.
The Mind Gut Connection by Emeran Mayer
Robin LaFevers is the author of seventeen books for young readers, including the HIS FAIR ASSASSIN trilogy about teen assassin nuns in medieval France and the upcoming COURTING DARKNESS. A lifelong introvert, she currently lives on a blissfully quiet hill in Southern California.
Holy smokes, Robin!!! I’ve been reading up on integrative medicine as well and beginning to understand more of the mind-body-spirit connection. We’ve always known that laughter is the best medicine and that the gut is our second brain but what people don’t realize is that being creative is our natural state–when we’re deeply engaged in creative pursuits we also begin to heal.
And yes, the body remembers every assault on it. Not only that, they are cumulative. I just about cried when I read the first book, Back in Control, because his simple methods towards healing include writing and they are working!!! I think how writing has saved me over and over and thank God for this writing life.
In any case, here’s a link to the books’ findings and reviews because I hope others who are suffering might gain some healing too: https://vijayabodach.blogspot.com/2018/11/chronic-conditions-and-healing.html
Congratulations on your new book!!! And a very Merry Christmas to you and yours and a happy, healthful 2019!!!
VIjaya, I look forward to reading that post! I’m so glad you’ve found books to help you on your healing path! And yes, the message from books and therapy seems to be that accessing creativity is a key component to that healing.
Wishing you continued good luck in your healing!
Thank you, Robin. You are incredibly brave. Which I suspect is a very important part of what makes you such an incredible writer.
Your insights here enlighten an aspect of something I’ve been troubled about lately. I feel so lucky to have my creative journey, as challenging as it might sometimes feel. Someone very close to me, who grew up in almost identical circumstances to mine, is broken. Early in life we shared some of the same wounds and hurts, though this person suffered a calamity that caused the final break. And the brokenness of this person bears on the tendons and tissues of the wounds of mine that seem healed.
It came to me the last time I visited. This person has no creativity to turn to now. Bitterness and alcohol continue to take their toll. And now it festers, with no outlet. And I fear for the outcome (there doesn’t seem to be a resolution for this particular black moment).
But it also makes me grateful. My writing journey–and my love of reading–offer not just an outlet, but a higher purpose. I can now honestly see its lifesaving aspects.
This time of year I always make an annual donation to a local literary charity. Until now I’ve never fully perceived just how vital it is. Getting kids reading and writing can literally save lives.
Wishing you a lovely holiday season, and all the best in ’19, Robin. Can’t wait to read the new book.
THIS. ALL THIS. >> “Getting kids reading and writing can literally save lives.”
I think it’s one of the most important things we can do, keep getting books into the world. We don’t know what they may do with those books, how the words in those books may change lives minutes, years, or lifetimes down the road, but books, books, and more books.
Thanks, Jocelyn. You’ve reminded me of something. Did you see that Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library just gave away its 100 millionth free book? Such a cool endeavor she’s undertaken.
::raises hand:: I’m one of those people whose life was saved by books. I grew up with alcoholism, emotional abuse and neglect, with what my current therapist calls “developmental trauma,” followed by more emotional abuse as my marriage unraveled. Through it all, reading has allowed me to escape. It’s enabled me to get away from the pain for a little while, so it didn’t overwhelm me, to come off the line like a soldier in a great war, going to somewhere for rest and recuperation. When I was young, it showed me that the way I was living wasn’t the only way to live. All that gave me hope and kept hope alive. Without books I’d be dead or broken.
Robin is one of the wisest people I know and as usual, she’s tapped into an important truth.
Ha. Brave. If you only saw how closely to the quick I bite my nails whenever I post something like this. :-)
I’m so sorry for your friend–it is heartbreaking to watch someone we care about go down that path–especially when we’re on a similar but somewhat less broken one.
After reading your comment I was thinking about how all the people I know who are the happiest, especially once they’re past middle age, are actively engaged in creative pursuits. I think we’re meant to be, which is why the elimination of so many enrichment programs in schools is so frustrating and wrong-headed.
And I absolutely believe that kids reading the right (for them) books can save lives! Like Katy, books were my refuge and taught me so much more about who I could be and what a wider world looked like than the one I was seeing at the time.
Speaking of wise, Katy dear, YOU are the one who taught me that Emotion Resides in the Body, a mantra I chant to myself whenever I am writing tough emotional scenes.
Thank you for sharing Robin. A very timely topic.
Strangely, I’ve been having this conversation with multiple people from multiple eclectic areas of my life. I met a friend for coffee and I learned something about her I didn’t know — she’s a body-mind/emotion practitioner. We spent an hour talking about the physical impacts of our emotions and how our scars never really go away. And now here’s your essay! I plan on sharing it.
Congratulations on your new book and for the courage and perseverance to keep moving forward. Your journey is inspiring.
Jocelyn,
I’m always so fascinated when the Universe keeps plopping the same message in our paths using a wide variety of messengers. That always makes me sit up and pay attention!
Excellent and honest post. Thank you for the quotes, the recommendations and your story. Timely.
Thank you, Lauren! Glad you found it helpful.
Welcome back, Robin! Great to know things are – for the moment – looking up. I, for one, am screaming to get at *Courting Darkness*, & confident I will once more fall in love with the people, places, depth, introspection, & magic you offer your readers.
Thank you, Charlie! <3 <3 <3
Robin, my body—particularly back, hip and knee—distinctly remembers the thrashings and wrenchings it took from years of playing pickup basketball. At least I can still talk, though I dribble a little.
As for the emotional stuff, yeah, those Shadowlands can feel like they sometimes have no map out. Good to hear that you’re planted on Fortune’s wheel again—here’s to it lifting you up, with light and lightness. Good luck with the book!
“[T]he journey the writer intends to take the character on, isn’t always the same one the story intends to take the writer on.”
Truth. And I wonder if writer’s block can settle in when we writers try to force our plans on our characters, and the characters are not interested in easy compliance.
Old scars definitely play a role in my work-in-progress, but for once the scars are solely my characters’. Or so I think…
Thank you for another deeply felt post, Robin, and Happy Holidays to you.
This has clearly struck a chord. Thank you for sharing your story and the image of that ever-turning wheel. I so love your work and am excited for this new book. So much to think about here.