When I was younger, I thought creativity was solely rooted in artistic ability. I thought that only those who could paint, draw, sculpt, and sketch were deemed worthy of being associated with the term “creative”.
I thought so highly of those people. Anytime I would see a beautiful work of art, I thought about how lucky the artist was. Imagine having a talent so desperate for life, that masterpieces were born from it? In my books, anyone who was creative was elite.
I used to wish I could draw. I wanted to move my hand across a sheet of paper, color it with hues from the rainbow, and create a picture worth a thousand words, but the truth is, I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.
I thought creativity was determined by how it manifested, and I had it engrained in my head that the only creative outlet involved a paint brush. I never heard that term used to describe anyone outside the “arts”, so it was only over time that I learned that creativity describes anyone who dares to use their imagination.
The most creative, expansive, wondrous minds I’ve come across in my lifetime have been authors— people who use no color, no pictures, and only black ink on white paper. People who send you traveling into the intimate mind of a person who lived during an era you weren’t even alive for. They bring you on a journey, create visuals that need no color, and do so all while you’re sitting completely still.
If everyone talks, I thought, everyone can write. But because it may be seen as a chore for some people, it’s just the lack of interest that separates authors from everyone else. “You can do this, too,” is what I used to think when anyone told me I was a good writer. “I’m nothing special. I just write down what I think.”
I was wrong. I was so wrong. The imagination that lingers in the minds of adults, the ones who hold onto it for dear life as they age, is truly a gift. Children are known to live in a fantasy where embellishment is of the abundance. Somewhere between the first time we’re told to “stop being silly” to the last time we’re scolded for our immature actions, we lose our imaginations degree by degree. We settle into the seat of reality and deem our playful days a thing of the past. Too much work, too many to-do’s, and too little time for relaxation push our creativity to the back burner. It is a virtue to be creative, a remnant of a person we have long shed, but I am one to believe the imagination is how we keep the child in us alive.
We give attention and credit to artists who create visuals, and although they deserve every accolade they receive, we tend to overlook the magic that’s created by authors inside readers’ minds.
I have felt every single emotion under the sun while reading. I have had such strong connections to characters that I’ve dreaded the ending of a book. I have yet to stumble upon anything that makes me feel the way I do as I progress through the plot of a novel. To be so intimately close to someone’s thoughts, regardless if they are real or fictional, is a feeling that can’t quite be recreated elsewhere. Perhaps we all interpret characters differently, but that is the absolute beauty of reading. I’ve always hoped that anyone who reads my words does so in their own way, but everyone also understands the essence of what I’m trying to say.
An author can make you change your whole outlook, catalyze you to take action, and shift your perspective on situations that you would have otherwise never been exposed to. I am in outright amazement at how people use diction, and there are some authors I credit my literal existence to. That is no small praise.
Creativity is your key into a world that’s nestled into this one but can be entirely different in every aspect. If you don’t draw and can’t blend colors together for the life of you, know that there are so many ways to use your imagination that don’t involve a paint brush. I never thought that “creative” was a trait that described me, but then I realized that words play like a symphony in my head the way artists envision artwork. Since then, I have ditched the idea that only brushes can color, grab a pencil when I’m feeling creative, and paint with my words.
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