Even though I engage in a number of creative pursuits – sewing, knitting, beading, playing the piano, writing fiction – I have always told myself that I am not a creative person. Despite the fact that I have acquired enough skill in some of these areas to teach (quilting, English smocking, heirloom sewing by machine, piano pedagogy) and the fact that I earn a comfortable living as a pianist and piano teacher, I have always insisted that I don’t have a creative bone in my body, that I am merely a talented thief.
Moving forward, I reject that notion.
I am an artist, an emerging synthesis of musician, writer, and maker of things. Towards that end, I will spend fifteen minutes a day working on music composition at the conclusion of my practice time, an hour a day working on my novel after I finish my morning pages, and I will create one new “thing” – like make a piece of jewelry or try a new lye soap recipe – each day. This is not an option. This is an imperative.
It has been suggested that I am not “emerging”; rather, I am already there. I don’t quite believe it, so it must not be so. But as quickly as possible. Here I go!