Being creative is a messy business. It requires work clothes, steel-toed boots, a sturdy hard hat, a trusty jackhammer, a backhoe, a crane for the heavy lifting, a construction fence to hinder the gawker’s view, and an enormous five-gallon bucket of elbow grease. I need room to sprawl, kick up dust, throw mud at the wall, and dig deep holes into the heart of my design. If I am lucky, I avoid roadblocks, anticipate setbacks, manage material delivery, labor negotiations, and hit pay dirt when I pass the required inspections. The intention is to deliver a completed project on time and under budget.

It all sounds so easy until something or someone steps in to gum up the carefully drawn plans. Writers, artists, and other creative people need access to a dedicated place and time to roll up their shirtsleeves and create, free from distractions. Freedom within specific constraints is an odd pairing, but they are crucial elements in the creative process. You can’t effectively work on an unlimited number of projects and hope to complete any of them. When you limit your concentration to one primary goal, organized chaos is often the next step.

Critics help an artist focus, improve their final product, and compel them to attain higher levels of meaning, competence, and beauty. But a critical eye imposed too soon in the development stage can demoralize, block, or even end a project before it has begun. It is a game of setting limits, defining boundaries, imposing structure, and then attempting to push past the artificial restrictions.

Don’t knock at my door when I am working. I don’t want, need or value your feedback before the shape takes form. The vision is mine. The struggle is personal, and it is a road I must walk alone.

What limits do you set on your creative process?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Winter’s end is coming. My countdown calendar says we are a mere twenty days from the first day of spring. Tomorrow we flip the page to March 1. Monday morning, dawn to a bright day loaded with possibilities, the beginning of a week filled with promise, and a month dedicated to starting anew. March always feels like a breath of fresh air and hope. But throwing away old, tired and broken patterns is often easier said than done. Peer pressure is real, established habits are hard to break, and slippery slopes catch us unawares. We fear the unknown and approach change with caution.

If you have abandoned your New Year’s Resolutions, gotten caught in the sensational worries of the daily headlines, or fallen into the trap of thinking you are not worthy, remember each morning offers you another chance. Wait for your future to unfold before you write your story in stone. When and where your adventure begins is not an indicator of where your journey will lead you. Every day, ordinary people make massive changes, achieve astonishing feats, and create their dream life.

The sun is smiling, nature is waking, and your supporters stand in your corner, cheering for your success. Become a master at embracing and enjoying unique activities, and walking unfamiliar paths, laugh when you trip and fall, then get up and try again—it’s how we learn.

What will you confront head-on today?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

It is the final Saturday in February and the close of the longest month on the calendar. Yes, I know there are only twenty-eight days, but they pull double duty to outlast and outperform their competitors. Endless gray, gloomy, monotonous hours make it almost impossible to discern day from night and create a gaping hole of misery. This year forty-five inches of snow followed by ice and bitterly cold temperatures convinced me hell really had frozen over. I have a secret weapon. It helps me stand up, wake up, and face the next twenty-four hours. What would I do without my morning cup of Joe?

My black gold gives me courage, puts vim in my steps, stiffens my backbone, and lets me know I will persevere. My stalwart friend guided me to this point where we can applaud February’s backside and welcome March with her promise of spring in a mere twenty-one days. Of course, February won’t go without a final salute and another layer of snow. I think I will pour a cup of coffee and see if March will melt the white, fluffy flakes and save me from another adventure in shoveling.

How do you take your coffee?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

I see prime examples more often than I would like. They are the people with extraordinary gifts who work in professions removed from their core strengths. You’d never know their true potential. They might be a ground-breaking architect, the next Albert Einstein, an Ansel Adams phenomenon, or a Nobel Laureate. Instead, they bag your groceries, deliver your latest Amazon order, pour your morning latte, or complete your tax return. Those paychecks ensure you pay the rent and put food on the table while it strips fulfillment from your grasp. Life is insidious. It undermines what exists in our DNA for the false safety inherent in making a living and shouldering the mantel of becoming a responsible adult. There are countless stories depicting artists as unsavory characters, leading unenviable lives, except for their brilliant talent. The underlying message is, “don’t pursue the genius inside of you.”

Louise Nevelson said: “My theory is that when we come on this earth, many of us are ready-made…Some of us–most of us–have genes that are ready for certain performances. Nature gives you these gifts.” When I ask people about their unique talent, few can answer. Finding the clues to identify your calling is a simple process of observation. Listen when others comment about you how well you perform a task that is so difficult for everyone else. Pay attention when time slips away while you accomplish the work you love. Your ability lies in that activity. But knowing still isn’t enough.

Natural talents require nurturing to develop to their fullest, and that demands dedicated practice. Keep the day job and invest in working artist’s hours. Early mornings, late nights, lunch breaks, and weekends provide untapped moments to live, breathe, and fuel your passion. It is the one thing that will guarantee you a fulfilling life.

Are you honing your rare gift?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

It has been a succession of endless, busy, stress-filled days. Work deadlines required late nights, early mornings, and the effort has left my batteries drained. During the week, I pause when I remember and only for a few seconds before I and push myself pedal to the metal to reach the endzone. But you can’t sustain that pace for long. I need less thinking, fewer decisions, and a real break. The signs are easy to spot if you look. I’ve noticed my lack of energy, lack of motivation, and my “fuzzy-headed” inability to concentrate.

My feeble, overworked prefrontal cortex sends me SOS messages, and I ignore them at the peril of sacrificing productivity. Scientists have identified this region as the center responsible for decision-making, problem-solving, and performance management. I have learned downtime is just as important as working hard. Elite athletes know the importance of recovery days. They schedule their downtime slotting them at strategic intervals between periods of intense training. It is time for a relaxing cup of tea, a blazing fire in the fireplace, a book, and perhaps a nap. No, there will be a nap. Then I will return to my regularly scheduled productivity.

How often do you take breaks and recharge?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

I was that strange kid who couldn’t wait to start school. No teacher taught me how to read – I learned before kindergarten. I completed most of my homework while I sat listening to lectures. Extra credit work was fun, and I enrolled in every advanced placement class my school offered. As a result, A’s populated my report card. My lower marks reflected my associated boredom level.  An instructor once reprimanded me for working ahead in a math workbook, even though the answers were correct. I didn’t stop. Her class was boring.

I love challenges. Cracking a code, solving a puzzle, or learning a new skill is exhilarating. Throw me in the deep end, and while I might thrash around and almost drown, chances are, I will soon be swimming like Michael Phelps. A wise man enlightened me on the benefits of becoming a perpetual learner. He warned me that no one knows less than the person who thinks they know everything,

This week, I started an online course, studying a topic I don’t yet understand. I am pushing my limits, making connections, and it is as scary as Nik Wallenda’s volcano walk. I am happier than a teacher on a snow day.

Are you pushing your limits?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

I spend a lot of time alone. The day job involves spreadsheet and data manipulation that requires concentrated thought. People jib-jabbing in the background is a distraction that leads to errors, mistakes, and reworks that I prefer to avoid. Writing is also a pursuit best undertaken by a party of one. Lately, with almost 45 inches of accumulated snowfall, I have spent many hours alone, outdoors, in the cold, and contemplating snowflakes.

Studies say alone time can enhance creativity, increase your productivity, and improve your concentration and memory. But we live in a society that condemns a person alone. We see them as someone who should be pitied, ridiculed, or befriended to save them from the realm of losers. The world views solo operators as being inconvenienced or suffering a punishment. It is a fate to be avoided at all costs. I am wired differently. As a child, teachers, parents, and friends coaxed, urged, and required me to join the rest of the family, but it has never been my default mode. I relish personal explorations and the ability to remove myself from the fray to determine how social connections influence and shapes my internal processes and perceptions, be they for good or ill.

But enjoying solitude doesn’t mean I don’t also derive joy from being with friends, and family, meeting new people, or building relationships. Being alone and loneliness are two very different things. I miss our Friday night dinner ritual with friends, sitting in a café to write, and connecting with strangers, face to face. Standing in the cold lets me appreciate the bustle of a crowd, the touch of a loved one’s hand, and the laughter of my companions.

Do you enjoy being alone?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

I admit it. Recently, I have hit the failure button a lot. It would be easy to blame my shortcomings on external events and bad luck. But I firmly believe if my goal is important enough, nothing will stand my way. While I can meet my minimum daily word count goal, I struggle to reach my stretch goals and push my writing to the next level. Since I aim to increase my daily productivity, I need to increase the days I hit the stretch goal.

The definition of a daily target implies that it should be, well, daily. Time to conduct a study, collect data, crunch numbers, and run them through the analysis machine. I discovered a pattern for the days I attained the stretch goal. The prior evening, I planned. Don’t worry kids, not a single outline was harmed (or created) in this process. I place extreme importance and value on the ability to fly by the seat of my pants.

Instead, I set the stage. Each session was different, but each bore similar themes. I prepared the tableau for the next day’s writing session. Think about throwing a party. You decide what you want to serve, go shopping, hang decorations, and make a few dishes in advance. On the day of the party, you cook. I have a new tactic. Each evening, I set the party, so the next day, I only need to write. We’ll see how it goes.

What takeaways have you learned from your failures?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

There are weeks I live solely for the weekend, and this past week was no exception. I expected two days devoted to indulging my one true love—writing with my primary commitment to creating a working plot and interviewing my characters. But Saturday’s unexpected indoor water park fiasco derailed the full day’s schedule. A short-lived leak requires massive effort to fix the basement. Now all my eggs rest in a hopeful Sunday basket.

The crucial question open for discussion over my morning coffee is whether the prudent action is to filter through the remains downstairs and put everything back together again or to continue as planned and keep my writing appointment. The list of Pros and Cons grows in my mind. Neither outweighs the other by a significant margin until I realize it’s not an either-or proposition. Pomodoro to the rescue.

The clean-up project does not require my complete concentration, and the writing sessions proceed more effectively when we take frequent breaks during our intensive interviews. My optimum timeframe works out to be fifty-two minutes, followed by a fifteen-minute recess. Reworking the basement should benefit from a more generous twenty to thirty-minute stint. But it will also allow me the time necessary to think of solutions for any problems in the character examinations.

The entire scenario is not ideal, but sometimes we must create ways to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. This Sunday, the prospect of Monday morning anxiety and regret over a shortened weekend schedule will arrive far too soon.

Do you look forward to Sundays or dread Monday’s return?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

This week overflowed with hustle, bustle, and problems to solve. I attended intense meetings, navigated personal dynamics, and invested early mornings coupled with late-night work sessions to move a large project toward the finish line. I climbed the exhaustion mountain, and I earned the tee shirt to prove it. While I enjoy meeting and interacting with others, it is a huge mental drain. I make small compromises, bowing to the group consensus, and read individual emotions to ensure everyone is happy and having a good time.

I long for the opportunity to follow my heart, with no need to consult anyone. Being alone is a precious joy. Would I care for another cup of coffee? Why, yes. Thank me. Calmness washes over me. My shoulders relax, tense muscles unclench, and I can breathe. A warm blanket, my current book, and silence helps me find a comfortable position in my favorite chair.

The freedom to do or not do as I see fit allows me to hear my inner thoughts. I think about my interactions, contemplate conversations, and take notes of new ideas, record things I don’t want to forget, and remind myself of further questions I wish to clarify. I realign the pieces that complete me.

How do you refuel?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer