Weary of Writing? Put Down the Pen and Pick Up a Paintbrush by Jennifer Lamont Leo

There are times when it's helpful to step away from the computer and refresh our minds through another facet of creativity. Today, author Jennifer Lamont Leo shares her "refreshing" experience. -- Sandy

Jennifer: Eyes bleary and head aching, I shut down the computer, dissatisfied with the week's progress (or lack thereof) on my novel. Storyline snarls and a dulled creative spark had worn me down. My word count suffered as I deleted more sentences than I'd written.

The impetus for hitting "save" and shutting down was that I was heading off on a weekend retreat at a nearby campground. The retreat would be focused on paper arts--rubber stamping, card-making, and scrapbooking.

Now, I'm no artist. My talents are, shall we say, primitive. But I do enjoy making my own Christmas cards, and planned to use the retreat to get a jump-start on that rewarding but laborious process. It was already September, and time was a-wasting. However, this time I wearily considered begging off. After the lack of writing progress I'd been experiencing, how could I justify taking two whole days off to work on my Christmas cards?  I needed to be writing, writing, writing. (Cue crack of whip.)

In the end, I chose to go to the retreat, and I'm so glad I did. Although I did not write a single word the entire weekend, I made more progress on my novel than I had in weeks. How could this be?

(1) Visual art stimulates writing creativity by exercising a non-verbal part of the brain. To give words, sentences, paragraphs, and grammar a rest and focus instead on color, shape, and perspective helped me change my own perspective. The various aspects of my brain, estranged for some time, managed to reconnect in fresh ways.

(2) Working with one's hands helps the ideas flow. Once I was more or less forced to concentrate on something other than solving some hairy plot tangle, my brain went ahead and solved it without me, as if saying, "Get out of my way and let me work."

(3) To clumsily paraphrase John Lennon, creativity is what happens when you're making other art. In other words, ideas sometimes flow when you switch to working in a different medium. "Frankly, getting out of your comfort zone creatively will often lead to your most creative solutions," wrote Stefan Mamaw and Wendy Lee Oldfield in Caffeine for the Creative Mind. 

(4) Spending quality time among other creative people: priceless. Writing is a solitary journey. As an introvert by nature, I usually don't mind the isolation. But to be among artists in full working mode was invaluable for "catching" the creative bug myself. Being among so many talented people for a whole weekend opened my mind to new connections, observations, and ways of seeing that I never would have stumbled across on my own.

So if you find yourself mired in writer's block, try picking up a paintbrush...or a camera, a pair of knitting needles, a bottle of glitter glue, a skein of embroidery floss . . . and make magic happen. You'll be glad you did.

What's the "go-to" creative hobby that allows you to recharge your writing brain?

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Jennifer Lamont Leo writes from her home in the mountains of northern Idaho, where she lives with her husband, two cats, and as much wildlife as she can attract. Passionate about history, she volunteers at a local history museum and writes history-themed articles for regional publications. She is also a playwright, blogger, and marketing copywriter. You’re the Cream in My Coffee is her first novel. Visit her at http://jenniferlamontleo.com. She is also active on Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.

The Emotion of Setting by Sandra Ardoin

Back when I was single and fancy-free (in other words, without a date), I spent a Saturday wandering a local outdoor art show. It was a perfect spring day in Texas and a good many people strolled through the park, taking in each exhibit and buying their favorite pieces of art.

I stopped at the booth that displayed the wispy, watercolor prints of Texas artist Michael Atkinson. One, titled Secluded Manor, caught my eye. As with many of his other works, only the top two-thirds contained the painting. The rest was blank, with the exception of a mare and foal, and his signature v-shaped birds.

Now, anything with a horse receives my wholehearted attention. But something else drew me to this particular print. Rather than only imagining it in my mind, I felt as though I were actually seeing an illustration

Here's my terrible photo of Secluded Manor
by Texas artist Michael Atkinson

of the setting of a gothic suspense novel I'd recently read. I'm sure he never realized that, from the horses in the foreground to the mansard roof of the tree-enshrouded house, the artist had captured, not only the way I'd envisioned the scene, but the romance and suspense of the story. 

Though I didn't buy the print that day, it made such an impression that I saved the money needed to purchase and frame it. (Did I say I was young and single ... and poor?) As you can see from the photo, I still own it, along with two others by the artist.

I can't tell you the name of the book this reminded me of, but the writer had painted the setting so vividly that, even now, when I look at that scene on my wall, I remember the emotions evoked while reading the story. I'm right back in the attic room with the imperiled heroine, anxiously looking out a window at the fog-blanketed landscape below. 

Has there been a time when something you saw or heard suddenly transported you back into the setting of a book? Did it give you a new respect for the author or the book?

(This post was revamped from a long ago post on my personal blog.)

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Sandra Ardoin writes inspirational historical romance. She’s the author of The Yuletide Angel and A Reluctant Melody. A wife and mom, she’s also a reader, football fan, NASCAR watcher, garden planter, country music listener, antique store prowler. Visit her at www.sandraardoin.com and on the Seriously Write blog. Connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Goodreads, and Pinterest. Join her email community to receive occasional updates and a free short story.

The Art of Verbing Nouns

Peter Leavell is an award winning
historical fiction author.

My family verbs nouns. When we sit around and chat, we family. When we eat, we dinner. 

And when craft time rolls around, we art. Normally, art is something to hang on the wall. Art is a degree that’s quite liberal. Art is one of my good friends. 

Art, for my wife and two kids, is a verb. We art. 

My son is 15 and he takes numbers and coaxes them to tell stories. Numbers give weights and distances. They plot courses and erect buildings. They guess chemical reactions. Math makes sense of God’s world. Math is my son’s art.

I know a musician. She arts beautifully.

My daughter is 12 and she dances. Straight arms and bent fingers, swirling, flowing, bending, swaying—she tells a story of beauty and tragedy with her body. Dancing is her art.

My wife draws with colored pencils and watercolors, which feels like conventional arting.

I’m arting right now, since writing is art. 

Art is why humans live.

God's creation is His Art. With a word, He created trees. Mountains. Sand. Tadpoles. Rice paddies. Baby’s smile. Stars. Lava underwater. People. The universe has great content. Really, really great content.

Rembrandt and da Vinci and van Gogh were artists. Read their biographies. They arted because they couldn’t do anything else. It wasn’t about the time arting. Van Gogh needed money, but painted as he saw the world. If it was for money, he would have painted for the market. His art was about the content.

Vincent van Gogh's Sunflowers
Public Domain

God didn’t look at His watch and think, 'I didn’t art today. I need 1,500,000 more stars.' Instead, His art was about the content.

The Bible is art.

Humans are made to art. We’re unhappy if we don’t.

You and I write. With words, we coax out what it is to be human. We show (not tell!) the beauty in this world. The horror. Triumph. Tragedies. Hope. Looking at our watches and putting in the time just isn’t who we are. We’re artists. We art. We’re content constructors. If we were to look at our watch and time our writing, we’d art far less, because we’re punching in a clock as a job. No, writing is simply who we are. We stumble home from the cubicle and we need to make sense of what we saw. So we art.

We don't need a blog to motivate us to write. We write. We live, breath, and dinner art.

We break rules because we know the rules. We verb nouns. 

What if God punched a time clock? Creation is quite the project. And overtime is expensive. It's not going to be finished in time for the Second Coming. No, this world is simply Who God is.

We chose writing. Or were chosen for writing. Art is simply who we are. We better get arting. 

Van Gogh shot himself. But no gun was found. And he said he blamed no one for his death. He died poor.