Creativity is a wild mistress.
You light a candle and carve out nice beautiful space and time for her and she decides to just... opt out. You feel like a loser and sit at the table alone and pretend to squeeze out something that is actually nothing and compose social media posts and grocery lists in your head alternatively.
But THEN, on the day the calendar has appointments like It’s Time to Write Very Important Emails and It’s Been a Week Since You Exercised and You Really Have to Sit Through This Meeting Creativity dramatically enters, like Beyoncé at any concert but especially Coachella, inhabiting your full being and body so all-encompassingly and ecstatically that you have no option but to run from the room, like you madly have to pee... or throw up...frantically searching for a container expansive enough for her avalanche, quick enough so that you don’t lose the firebombs she is hurling at you.
She wears a fantastic dress and usually she looks like Frida Kahlo and she hopes you understand, darling, that she is always non-negotiable and she does NOT work around anyone else’s GOOGLE CALENDAR.
Also WHAT are you doing on that silly device? she says.
You know I'm the real fun.
And you do.
Because she is intoxicating.
To our mistresses and their wildness.
receive My Book of rules // not rules for creating anything