The Surrender to Creativity by Emerald

by Emerald

I’ve said it many times. I’ve acknowledged it, expressed it, recalled it, foreseen it, and most of all, known it. And still I resist it.

It goes something like this: Someone asks the proverbial writerly question, “What’s your writing process like?” And with a carefree smile, I respond, “Well, I’ve found that what really needs to happen is that I have to sit down with the intention to write before I actually write.

Does that sound odd? Let me explain what I mean. As much as a part of me may want to ‘plan’ what I’m going to write, or feel inspired by brilliance before I take the time to write, or know before I sit down that I feel productive and am going to write exactly what I intend to, it has just not tended to happen that way for me. I have to agree to write first. I have to make the first move, sit in the chair, put my fingers on the keyboard, and let go—surrender to the moment and whatever wants to come through me, with no idea beforehand what it might be or whether something even will.”

My tone is light as I say this, perhaps punctuated by a twinkling little laugh…as though the set of circumstances I just described doesn’t send me into continual fits of procrastination, avoidance, self-doubt, anxiety, and at times even fury.

Here’s the way it is: The psychological structures in me have no interest in condoning my “indulging” in writing until/unless they feel sure exactly what will be written, what said writing’s perceived “value” will be, that there will be no time “wasted,” and that everything related to it is lined up in a perfectly straight row parallel to these structures’ perspective about what is important in life and the meaning of productivity.

Conditions, in other words, that don’t exist.

I know some fiction writers create outlines, plots, perhaps entire stories in their heads before they ever sit down to write. I am not one of them. Writing, or more specifically, “knowing what I will write,” only happens when I allow myself the space for it. Writing demands that I approach it openly, softly, vulnerably—exactly the way the demanding, perfectionistic part of me doesn’t want me to (or really to be, ever). That part of me is watching with a stern eye, ready to condemn and chastise and dismiss almost anything that arises from a place of unpolished curiosity or exploration. 

The true creative impulse is something I only get to access to when I surrender to it. When I show it, with sincere and open commitment, that I am ready to receive it. When I have, above all else, banished the fretting about “what I’m going to write” and simply sat down with reverence for a process the urge for control ultimately knows nothing about. It is then and only then that I find out what I’m going to write.

Do you see the subtle timing there? I have to surrender first. Creativity does not allow me to negotiate, to make a deal with it, to agree to give it time only after it tells me what I’m going to get in return. It is only when I have genuinely indicated that I am ready to surrender to it—when I have sat down in front of the computer with the intention to write, alongside no idea what might come out—that it steps forward.

The truth is, this phenomenon has been known to frustrate me immensely. Or more accurately, it frustrates the rigid, fearful part of me that, when I’m not paying enough attention, I’ve been known to identify with. The more I’m stressed about something, or distracted, or concerned about any number of things, the more likely I automatically submit to that demanding voice that thinks everything about what I’m going to create should be figured out before I allow myself to even entertain the notion of sitting down to write. 

Writing wants nothing to do with that part. So much so that it calmly turns its back on it, refuses to negotiate with it—or, as it turns out, with me when I am perceiving that way. If I am honest, I recognize that creativity is smart enough to know when it is truly welcome. It has no reason to subject itself to nonsensically rigid standards that smother it before it even emerges. And in this game of chicken, creativity always wins. It has to. It has nothing to lose, whereas I have little (writing) to gain without it. 

Ultimately, the choice is mine.

—

Emerald is an erotic fiction author interested in elevating discussion of and attention to authentic sexual experience. Her short fiction has been featured in more than thirty multi-author anthologies in the genre, and her book Safe: A Collection of Erotic Stories won the bronze IPPY in the Erotica category of the 2016 Independent Publisher Book Awards. The author of three short story collections, she has penned dozens of blog posts for her website, TheGreenLightDistrict.org, on topics ranging from sexuality and self-awareness to politics, sex work, and reproductive justice. The majority of her wardrobe incorporates glitter in some capacity.

Follow her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Emerald_theGLD

Follow her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/EmeraldAuthor

Follow her on BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/emerald

Initiative: Tales of Erotic Boldness 

Sizzling Stories of Sexual Grit and Satisfaction

From audacious proposals to first-time exploits to newfound inner confidence, taking initiative delves into the risqué in these thirteen smoldering tales. An accidental catalyst invokes a bold move in “Fulfillment,” while the brassiness in “Shift Change” belongs entirely to narrator Stacey. “Who’s on Top?” sees a meeting between fans of rival baseball teams turn into a game of chance and wits, and “The Beast Within” offers a present-day “Beauty and the Beast” rendition that puts a twist on ugliness, beauty, pain, and pleasure—and the surprising ways they can intertwine.

Sometimes brazen, sometimes subtle, the initiatives between these pages always showcase the erotic and how it can both inspire and evoke our most emboldened selves.

 

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