cultivating inspiration as a long path

A few posts ago, I talked about the skill of chasing inspiration—how there are concrete things that we as artists can do in order to find things that “juice” us and plant the seeds for future creativity. I’ve been thinking lately about how good ideas come about and wanted to share a few stories and reflections about how the path toward exciting ideas can be long.

The Triangle. The creator of one of my favorite musicals once told me that the show was born from a triangle of three key moments, moments that happened months apart. First, he had a conversation with a close collaborator in which they discovered that they both loved the same Greek tragedy. Second, he happened to meet an incredible performer who totally stunned him, for whom he passionately wanted to write. Third, a family member who had just moved to a new location gifted him a book with one line about a particular historical figure—one whose life corresponded closely with the main character of the Greek tragedy, and whom the incredible performer could star as. With that third moment, suddenly the triangle came together, and the first song was born. Months of conversation and experiences, some in unintentional and unrelated places, gave birth to the core idea of an amazing work of theatre and art.

Jelly Time. An artist once shared that every day, she gifts herself “jelly time,” a time when she follows her curiosity and lets it ooze freely. For me, my jelly time manifests as reading articles or books that sound interesting even though they don’t help with what I’m working on at the moment, listening to new music others have shared with me, playing or analyzing music I love to understand how it works, and composing either without an end goal or with the freedom to wander away from the end goal as I explore.

Sometimes there is no output, immediately or with time. But other times, this process bears sweet fruit. For example, a month ago, I loosely searched for inspiration gems from Central and Eastern European culture, and I let myself be distracted by the idea of Bulgarian dance rhythms. At the time, I was desperately trying to finish two songs, neither of which needed such rhythms, and I worried that this delightful excursion had been an indulgent waste of time. Earlier this week, however, I needed to quickly write several transformations of a musical theme, and with a particular Bulgarian dance rhythm in mind, I was able to come up with a really cool transformation in a short time. Even when I am able to work quickly, I feel that I am often most successful at this when I am leaning into ideas that have come up during jelly time.

Nebula Time. Nebulas are the birthplaces of stars! And most mornings, I gift myself “nebula time,” a time when I give myself space to reflect on what matters to me, what I’m proud of, what I’m grateful for, and what I hope for that day. My nebula time sometimes naturally spins into jelly time. I might write more about nebula time in a separate post.