fostering creative intuition

note-taking, magic-making

It’s the middle of the school holidays so when time allows, I’ve been writing in the library. You already know how much I love the library - as a reader and a writer. It’s a comforting habitat to be in; all I have to do is lift my gaze and there are the authors who have come before me. I see the success of their finished project and between the pages I notice the immense work, too. It’s a humbling reminder that I’m not the first person to know this creative challenge. My struggle is nothing new; it’s just part of the process.

In all my years of teaching prenatal yoga, I often reminded my students that in the depths of labour, it can be helpful to remember all the women who have birthed before you. It’s a comfort to know that you’re navigating a well worn path, that deep breaths and primal knowing are within us all.

The birth analogy is often adopted by writers and while the labour (work) pain is not the same, the creativity is; to create something from merely nothing, a luminous spark of an idea, a singular hope, a strong intention. It’s an arduous process that requires immense faith, a lot of emotional support and sometimes, sheer blessed luck.

I’m a mother who writes about birth but I’m also a writer who doesn’t keep a diary. I’ve always been embarrassed to admit this, for the simple fact that second to: Did you read a lot of books growing up? the question all published authors are asked is: Have you always kept a diary?

I haven’t ever been a date-at-the-top-of-the-page and documenting feelings kind of person. But I’ve always been a note-taker. And what does note-taking require? Noticing. The problem with haphazard note-taking is the number of places said notes are kept. There’s rarely reason or order. But there is something rather astounding when you’re struggling with whatever you’re working on and you’re rifling through notepads and bills that have arrived in the mail and congregated on the kitchen bench, or you’re flicking through a book you read months or years ago, and you find a single sentence that answers your question or reminds you of an idea that fuels the chapter you’re working on. These scribbles are like connecting dots and they are often revealed when you need them most. That’s a bit of magic, I think.