“Substack is the place for creatives”.
Musings on being creative.
“Substack is the place for creatives”.
I can’t speak for others, but I can say this. I was always a creative type.
Writing poetry, writing long-form fiction, painting, drawing, making jewellery, and photography. I’ve done it all and loved it all. Photography and writing are now the things I would like to really dive into with abandon. They speak to my soul and allow to express the depth that our society seems to really have a problem with.
Depth isn’t “cool”.
Passion isn’t “cool”.
Caring isn’t “cool”.
Empathy isn’t “cool”.
“You’re too intense”
“You’re too random/weird”
“You’re too verbose/opinionated/critical”
“You’re not a teenager anymore”
“Why can’t you just do things like everyone else?”
They like you better when you’re quiet, self-effacing, and just go along with things.
Being nonchalant, superficial, and letting nothing move you is “cool” apparently.
Pursuing anything creative, intellectual, etc are portrayed as having no purpose, being pretentious, and/or activities for dilettantes. I was always told, “It’s not practical, useful, anything more than a hobby”. Something you do when you’re not doing what you should be doing (i.e. work that is paid and paid well). So you gravitate towards something that is deemed practical, useful, and that can make you money: marketing, project management, cybersecurity.
Being practical is about necessity. Doing something to keep a roof over your head, electricity on, food in the fridge, to gain the respect and approval of others, etc. It’s taking care of the bare-bone basics with nothing to spare because you’re not allowed the “luxury” of anything else. It’s painful in ways that some may never understand. It’s a constant sense of being out of breath, not having enough oxygen, feeling cornered and always on the defensive. Feeling like you have to justify every damn thing. It’s a deep open wound that stubbornly refuses to heal.
It being made clear to you daily that your creativity is of no value and therefore you’re inability to sufficiently be practical, make six figures, find a mate, have 2.5 kids and a requisite doodle or pug or whatever the hell is trendy at the moment, means that you, by extension, have no value. That your existence and creativity are an endless burden to others. That they wish they could leave this plane of existence sooner rather than later because your inability to do like others is an endless annoyance to them.
We aren’t all built for “practical”, “utilitarian”, conformity. We can’t all squeeze into that microscopic box that society deems acceptable. Our brains have not all been wired to fit neurotypical norms. It’s got nothing to do with being the next step in evolution (that’s nonsense). It is about allowing others who think differently to do more than exist and to do so without the constant refrain that they are a failure as a person.
We aren’t defective. We aren’t just dreaming. We’re creatives.
As a fellow writer and photographer, and late diagnosed AuDHD woman, I relate so much to this! Thank you for this beautiful piece.