The Creative Process is Messy and Unsatisfactory

Friday
Start with bad grace, I think ‘Whats the use?’ ‘What a waste of time to even TRY.’

Start anyway.

About 5 hours of mulling over stuff, intensive ‘googling’, finally I force myself to sit down with pen and paper to write ‘something’ ‘ANYTHING’. I scratch out a few pathetic sentences. Then I scrawl a page. Then I bake an apple/egg bake thing. Blog, email my friend at work, go outside see that my organic box has been delivered. Decided to spontaneously invite friends to dinner and make Moroccan style stew with butter nut squash. Make stew. Go back to computer write up hand-written notes. Print off document. Hide crap in living room. Clear dinning room table, turn off lights and light candles to disguise shambolic state of flat. Friends arrive we discuss document one friend disappears into my workroom (commenting loudly on the mess) commands computer re-writes document. We have a heated debate about his changes with 3 different points of view. At 11 pm two friends dash to get last bus home and my other friend cycles off.

Saturday
Wake up with a groan – I have to prepare the final document, go to the only post office which is open late on a Saturday and meet some people in the afternoon.

More bad grace re-read document. Decide to tone it down as I know the potential readers have had their sense of humour surgically removed. Go to find another image for document. Realise time is passing, email my afternoon meet ups to say I’ll be half an hour later. Try and print off document to proof read and as I do lose document. Re-write document. Try to print again the printer won’t print. (Its been behaving perfectly for MONTHS). Leave workroom encourage myself to breathe breathe breathe, and make a cup of tea. Go back to workroom turn of printer turn it on again. It prints ! Fix typos, set to print again. Find more typos, print again. Find padded envelope. Write address stick items into envelope. Try and find stamps. Flee out of the house at 1.30pm giving myself an hour to go to post office and meet friends.

Now I’m in agony that I should have done the damned thing differently. But I know I could never have made it perfect. I’m also aware that some of the things I’ve done with the worst kind of attitude have turned out to be the most successful moves I’ve made. I don’t know in this instance. I do know I just have to let go of the outcome.