Archive for the 'Creativity Coaching' Category

Is technology driving us apart – or closer together?

Published May 10, 2012 Creative Life , Creative Parenting , Creativity Coaching , Essays , Marketing , Social Commentary Leave a Comment
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I recently attended The Art of Marketing conference in Chicago featuring Seth Godin and the question was posed to the audience: how many of you feel like technology is isolating us as a society? I did not raise my hand. I looked around and was shocked to see the majority of hands up. Now, I’ve seen this question posed in forums like TED, NPR and other thoughtful, intellectual places. But I hadn’t really formed an opinion. Until now.

I think technology is driving the need for people to come together more urgently than ever before. Children are on Facebook and Twitter doing what one expert described as “self revealing before self reflecting.” Technology changes are eliminating some jobs yet creating new ones. Our economy has been turned inside out and upside down. The business climate changes faster than Chicago weather in two hours. The changes driven by technology are happening so fast, we don’t have time to process it, let alone buy the next generation device.

As a marketing professional, I’m excited. So many new opportunities! So many new ways to communicate and share! So many new things to learn and master! As a wife, mother and regular person who regularly forgets to water her plants, yells at my kids when they get on my last remaining nerve, and can never seem to remember where I last placed my coffee or my glasses, it terrifies me.

That’s why I feel the basics of connection are more important than ever before. Saying good morning, please and thank you. Taking time before a meeting for personal chat before diving into the project at hand. Making time to meet for coffee. Asking someone, “How are you?” and meaning it – then listening thoughtfully to the answer. Picking up the phone and calling instead of emailing or texting (once in a while, anyway – I’m not really a phone talker). Sitting down for dinner with the kids with the TV off, cell phones/iPads/iPods/laptops put away, and taking turns asking how everyone’s day was. We ask questions and listen to the answers: what’s something good that happened? Bad? Sad? What is something new you learned today? What surprised you?

One of my proudest moments as a parent was when my then 11-year-old son came home from school and said he had good news to share. “What is it?” I asked excitedly. He smiled secretively and said, “I’ll save it to share at dinner.” This from a kid who believes MineCraft is a metaphor for life. :)

I think that technology is a reminder that as much as things change – or no matter how fast – we can get through it if we stick together. And remember that no technology can ever replace the basic need we all have: to connect. To share. To belong. To know our place in the big, bad, technologically savvy world. And to know that at the end of any day, someone will be sitting at the table waiting to hear about your day.

Back to the Art of Marketing conference, the first speaker: Keith Ferrazzi, best-selling author and thought leader, who spoke about relationship marketing. Technology might enable relationships. But people sustain them.

What do you think? Is technology driving us apart or driving us closer together?

Why are girls so mean?!

Published April 19, 2012 Creative Families , Creative Life , Creativity Coaching , Essays , Kids , Social Commentary 3 Comments
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Tonight I comforted my 1o-year-old daughter – again – about her break-up with her best friend. It wasn’t her idea. So while she is struggling to understand why her best friend no longer wants to be her best friend, her former best friend has moved on and is doing just fine with her new best friend. And it is getting uglier every day. I hug her as she sobs and describes in painstaking detail about the latest transgression with the ‘new best friend.’ And I feel completely, utterly at a loss to explain to her what is happening and why.

My daughter is on the far right. This is not the best friend she broke up with. It is someone she met once, one hour earlier...at an age before girls start turning on each other.

How do you explain to her that girls – all people – can be mean? Really really mean? That they don’t care that you go home at night and cry your heart out after holding in your feelings all day long? I’m not a psychologist. I’m just a mom. I’ve seen the movie “Mean Girls” and heard about the book “Queen Bees and Wannabees.” But sitting there on my daughter’s bed, seeing her lip quivering as she tried to hold back the tears, I could remember nothing from either the movie or the book in that moment.

It used to be so easy when she was younger. There was some drama, but now in fourth grade, it seems to have reached a new level. My first reaction is to comfort her and tell her I’m sorry she is having to go through this. I hug her. I listen to the stories. I empathize. I rack my brain to come up with something, anything, to tell her that will help. But I can’t fix it. I’m no expert on behavior. All I can do is tell her what I know to be true.

1. You don’t need 527 friends. Just one or two real ones. This is a tough one to explain when you are not the popular girl. My daughter has already been bullied in school and via text, though. She knows what it’s like every day to not be the popular girl – and what it’s like when the popular girl suddenly drops you. It’s a bitter, painful lesson and I hate to see her learn it. But I know she must. It’s part of growing up, made so much more complicated in our 24/7, always-on world full of technological ways to be bullied and reminded that you are on the outside looking in.

2. Own your part. I remind my girl of how she behaved badly at times when she was the best friend of the popular girl. She cries a little more, but I don’t let up on her. I remind her that others felt then just as badly as she feels now. Remember this, I tell her. Now that you know how it feels, you must be sure that you never, ever make anyone else feel the way you do right now. She nods. I know that I will need to remind her of this again. But I can see the seed is planted.

3. Be yourself. It’s hard to explain to a child that in a world where conformity is the norm, that it’s best to be your true self. When you do, you will make friends who see you for who you truly are and appreciate and love you for who you really are – warts, goofy humor, big feet and all. It may not happen tomorrow. It may not make you the most popular girl in school now. But you will have better, deeper friendships. You will be happier with who you are because you are not looking for someone else’s stamp of approval. You are the only one who give yourself that.

But my daughter is still learning who she is. She knows, but I think in weak moments like this, she forgets. So I remind her. I tell my daughter all that I know to be true about her: she is smart, creative, artistic, musical, funny, and sweet. I tell her she is an original and has a spark that lights her up inside. She listens to this very carefully. She desperately needs to hear this, to have herself mirrored back to her because right now she has lost sight of who she is. And at 10, she doesn’t know yet who she is, and the road before her to figure that out is long and hard. I want to make sure I give her the right tools for the journey.

4. You can’t control others, only how you react to them. I have to remind myself of this all the time, I tell her. You can drive yourself crazy trying to make someone like you or wishing they would change or treat you better or that things would go back to the way they were. But it is a waste of energy because you can’t change someone else. Never. Ever. So focus on what you can control and change: yourself.

5. Your feelings are perfectly normal. But it’s what you do with them that matters. I pull out the book I am reading, Emotional Intelligence 2.0, and show her a picture of the brain that shows how feelings enter the limbic part of the brain first, where emotions are experienced. The picture shows that beyond that part of the brain is the rational center of the brain. Some people get stuck in the emotional part of the brain and don’t connect to the rational part, so that they can understand and analyze the feelings to try to make sense of them. Not all kids are into this kind of thing, but my daughter loves to see the science and order behind the chaos. She asks to see the book and studies the picture. And you know what? It calmed her. It made sense to her. She needed that because feelings don’t always make sense and they can be big and scary.

In the end, I turn to my words because as a writer, it is all I have. I ask my daughter: what is the center of the universe? And she says, the sun. And I ask her: who is the sun of your universe? She looks down at her stuffed bear. I tell her that right now, she is making her ex-friend the center of her universe. I tell her that she needs to be the center of her own universe. She looks up at me, hopeful, and I can see that she gets it.

I don’t tell her that someday she may have a child who will become the new center of her universe. There is time for that later. For now, tonight, she needs to know that making anyone else the center of your universe – whether it’s a best friend, a spouse, the popular girl in school – will throw your entire universe off balance. And you will cry yourself to sleep every night.

Be the center of your own universe, I tell my daughter. You are smart. You are funny. You are sweet. You are musical and artistic. You are an original. You are creative. You are loving. You are loved.

I only hope my words did not fail me tonight.

Celebrating Mother’s Day when Mom’s not there

Published May 6, 2011 Creative Families , Creative Life , Essays , Holidays 2 Comments
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We all know what moms are supposed to be: patient, kind and loving. They are supposed to know how to sing lullabies and kiss boo-boo’s. They are supposed to cook and clean and decorate cupcakes like it’s nobody’s business. They are supposed to work hard at home and at work and be good friends, good daughters, good sisters and aunts. But most importantly?

They are supposed to be there.

Moms should be there when it counts: at our sporting events and school plays. For our first kiss, first job, first marriage. Moms should be there when you become a mom and join the ‘hood. They should be there for every baby thereafter. Moms should be there forever.

But what happens when they’re not? What do you do when they leave or get sick or die? What do you do when they are there but disconnected, in a “lights are on but nobody’s there” way? What do you do when they are there but you wish they weren’t? And then Mother’s Day comes along, with its high expectations for a Norman Rockwell (or should I say Normal Rockwell) day?

My mom died on March 18, 1994. It was six months before my wedding. By the time her cancer was diagnosed, it was too late, but we didn’t know it then, my sister, father and I. We didn’t have Google or WebMD then; hope was all we had. But that was a long time ago, right? I’m done with that, right? With two kids of my own now, Mother’s Day should be a snap. Right??

But what I am learning is that when there are all these things a mom is supposed to be, you are never “done” coming to terms with the loss of a parent. Your grief merely changes shape over time. My mom and I did not always see eye to eye. She died before I really came into my own as a person, so I like to think that we would have become friends. But I’ll never really know.

I am (mostly) OK with this. I don’t cry anymore on Mother’s Day. I don’t choke up anymore when I see a mother and daughter walking in the mall who look so alike there is no doubt they are mother/daughter. But  seeing my older sister being a grandparent to her grandchildren, I feel the sadness and loss of what my children will never experience. When my elderly neighbors invite their adult children and the grandchildren over for Sunday dinner, there is something about the sight of the grey-haired couple standing on their porch stoop, waving goodbye as everyone backs out of the driveway…it’s the sting of what will never be.

I know what a mom is supposed to be. But here’s what my mom really was: she insisted on family dinners every Sunday. She wore her hair in a beehive long after it ceased being fashionable (it was once, right?). She never got her hair wet in the pool and she could sew a pantsuit like it was nobody’s business. She made the best homemade chicken noodle soup. She loved McDonald’s but maybe Long John Silver’s a little more. She read People magazine and The Star and Enquirer. She loved Elizabeth Taylor. She told me I could go to college someday, even though no one else in our family, herself included, had ever gone.

When she died, I didn’t know how to be a wife or mother. She was a buffer between being a kid and a grown-up and when she died, it was like the earth cracked open and I lost everything, myself included. But here’s the thing: I got stronger, too.

I learned how to decorate a house and order window treatments. I never learned how to sew but I did learn that a tailor and a dry cleaner work even better. I learned how to cook for 20 and make pie crusts from scratch. I learned that life is short and tomorrow doesn’t always come, so I finished my grad school application and got that MFA I’d been thinking about. I learned that if I wanted something, I was going to have to get it for myself. And while I missed Mom’s stamp of approval on my life, there is something liberating about charting your own course, free of someone else’s idea of what it should look like. My life felt more real because I had more at stake and no one to blame but me if I failed.

I remember after one particularly bitter fight when I was about 12, my mom gave me a long look and said, “You’re going to write about this some day, aren’t you?” I gave her my best eye roll and a snotty ‘tween look, but deep down, we both knew she was right. Dammit.

Miss you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.

When good gingerbread men go bad: how to bake the best of an awkward situation

Published December 22, 2010 Creative Families , Creative Life , Fun , Holidays Leave a Comment
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I ordered all my gifts online this year, which meant I had more time on my hands for attempting holiday-oriented crafts than in years past. My family was tentatively excited. I am not a “crafty” person, which surprises those who think creative professionals flit around in their spare time constantly dreaming up creative ways to engage our kids in “extreme” crafts that require gallons of tape, pipe cleaners, popsicle sticks, egg cartons, paper towel rolls and stick-on eyes.

Nope. As a marketing copywriter, my job is to write copy that sells stuff somebody else made. That means my brain is already chock full of video white papers, engaging social media stories and visions of high email open rates and click-throughs dancing in my head. It’s a wonderful life indeed.

I decided to try making gingerbread cookies. I can hear pastry chefs everywhere now: Christy Miles, put down the decorating tips and cookie cutters and nobody gets hurt! The baking part is easy–buy a box mix, stir together the ingredients, roll out the dough, use the cookie cutters, snap! So easy. So deceiving. Then comes the decorating part. I distributed my homemade cookies to my neighbors for the first time this year and worried that my Gingerbread Men might scare the small children. Then I thought, nah, they’re cookies, kids will eat anything with frosting. And on the upside, at least everyone would know without a doubt that the cookies weren’t store-bought.

As my holiday gift to you, here are two of my gingerbread cookies with my quick marketing analysis.

 

The Mr. Bill Gingerbread Man

When I uploaded this photo, wordpress.com asked if I wanted to add an alternate text for the image, “i.e., the Mona Lisa.” Ha ha, WordPress, very funny!

He looks scared, this Gingerbread Man. Sadly, this is how many of my Gingerbread men turned out, looking vaguely like that old Saturday Night Live puppet/play-doh man Mr. Bill. My clumsy fingers could barely place the M&Ms gently into the small dollop of icing for the buttons. One even flipped over, showing the M, which I know would never cut it in the design or pastry world, but I was too lazy to fix it. Oh, who am I kidding, this wouldn’t even make a preschool’s line-up. Next up we have…

 

Bugsy the Bug-Eyed Gingerbread Man

When I started this cookie stuff, I was seriously intent on making cute gingerbread men. I got to this guy and thought, hmm, I wonder how he would look with M&Ms for eyes? No one ever shows Gingerbread Men with M&M eyes. Now we know why.

He looks freaked out or like he’s had a bad eye lift. Or perhaps it’s a goiter? We’ll never know. My family had a wonderful holiday moment as we tried to brainstorm what ailed Bugsy. Never mind the fact that Bugsy’s buttons are touching his mouth, the poor guy has no neck. But hey, he’s smiling.

My kids also decorated Gingerbread Men and they turned out to be much more fearless in their use of color, style and approach.

Kid-Friendly Gingerbread Men

OK, so the middle one has frosting bug eyes; getting the eyes right is definitely one of the trickiest parts. But all in all, these Gingerbread Men are fun, festive, colorful and look like they were made by kids for kids. Definitely more charming than my gingerbread freaks of nature. These would get eaten for sure.

Except not at my house. No one wants to eat them now because we are having too much fun making fun of them. So we’ve decided to make up a story about each Gingerbread Man and read them out loud on Christmas.

Writing. Now that I know how to do. This is why I’m a copywriter, not a pastry chef. :)

Happy holidays, everyone. Wishing you a wildly creative Christmas and New Year!

Drinking and decorating: The anti-Martha-Stewart-Pottery-Barn Christmas tree

Published December 17, 2010 Creative Families , Creative Life , Creative Parenting , Essays , Fun , Kids , Social Commentary 8 Comments
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Two years ago, I turned over the job of decorating my Christmas tree to my kids, then ages 7 and 9. We had just moved into our “new” 54-year-old house that needed a lot of TLC and was sucking the life out of us. After months of looking for new places for our furniture, artwork, books, games, dishes, and walking into walls in unfamiliar rooms in the middle of the night and grasping for unfamiliar light switches, the thought of having to find a good place for the Christmas tree was the last straw. I sat on the floor of the house that still felt like someone else’s and cried.

This was not Christmas as I’d known it growing up. Holidays were BIG at my house and consisted of cleaning, cooking, shopping, baking, more cleaning, coordinating outfits, practicing Christmas songs on the organ (I know, right???), wrapping, more cleaning, making cookies, making pierogis, and more cleaning. My mother spent days arranging decorations in the house; she was Martha Stewart before anyone had heard of Martha Stewart.

I was never permitted to touch the “good” tree upstairs, but I was allowed to decorate the “other” tree in the basement. I call it the consolation tree. (Usually my mother would come down later and rearrange all the ornaments again anyway.) Secretly I fear I’ll never be good enough to put together the good tree.

See, that’s why the holidays are tricky. There’s all this pressure to be merry and buy stuff but it’s also fraught with memories, good and bad. Sometime after Halloween, I remember all the old family holiday parties and every year, there are a few less faces around the table. Some years are harder than others. That year in our new old house was a hard one.

So I let my kids decorate the good–the only–tree all by themselves that year, and it was so much fun we decided to make it a new Miles family tradition. We play holiday music. I make hot chocolate.  The kids dance around all hopped up on sugar cookies. They make me wear the Santa hat with the reindeer antlers. But they take their job very seriously. Each ornament is placed with great care and consideration, although I have the most random, crazy mix of ornaments you could possibly imagine. It’s enough to make Martha’s toes curl.

The reactions to their decorating efforts are usually…not good. People walk in, look at the tree and say things like, “Oh my!” or “Were you drinking and decorating again?” It makes me wonder sometimes how my mom felt when she stood back, alone, to survey her tree and the trimmings and the perfection. I would ask, but her last Christmas was 16 years ago. If she could see my tree now, she would immediately shoo me out of the room so she could fix it. I would let her do it, but only if she wore the Santa hat with the reindeer antlers, which she’d hate because it would mess up her hair.

So yeah, my tree looks disheveled and a little tipsy, kind of like me after the neighborhood holiday party–OK, all of the neighborhood parties–and the complete opposite of any tree ever featured in Pottery Barn.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Take a break from holiday shopping: Get inspired at the Frank Lloyd Wright Home & Studio Tour

Published December 11, 2010 Creative Life , Creativity Coaching , Fun , Holidays , Social Commentary , Work Life Leave a Comment
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One of the best ways to stay creative and inspired is to keep your creative pond, an idea I first heard from The Artist’s Way author Julia Cameron, well stocked with creative eye candy and experiences: art, design, poetry, music, theater, anything that makes you feel alive and in awe. It can be somewhere as vast as the Grand Canyon or your own town’s farmer’s market. It’s even better when the inspiration is free and is good for the whole family–especially during the often hectic and frenetic holidays.

Case in point: the Frank Lloyd Wright Home and Studio tour. We surprised our kids with it this morning–woke them up, said let’s go, wouldn’t tell them where, stopped for doughnuts and headed out to Oak Park for the free Family Fun Days Featuring Victorian Christmas Tours.

For kids, by kids. Free tours of Wright’s Oak Park home, decorated for the holidays. Led by Junior Interpreters, specially trained 5th through 10th grade students, the tours focus on Wright family celebrations of the Christmas holidays. Enjoy hot chocolate and holiday music in the Home and Studio courtyard and play with Froebel blocks in Wright’s drafting room.

Fortunately my kids, ages 9 and 11, get as excited about architecture and history as my husband and I, so they were in awe of the unique home that looked nothing like any of the houses in our neighborhood. There was so much to take in: the old-fashioned toys, the huge Christmas tree in the children’s playroom (which also included a special staircase that led to a balcony for the Wright children to perform plays), the old ice box, and at the end of the tour, the Froebel blocks that were made available for anyone to play with, which we all did. The free hot chocolate was the icing on the cake of a cold, rainy winter day.

While there were adult guides throughout the house, kids ranging in age from 11 to 15 or so delivered the tour of each room–complete with historical details and tales of how the Wrights spent their holidays. They were professional and knowledgeable, and it was refreshing to see pre-teens and teens in this positive role–and I was happy that my children saw this as well. It wasn’t crowded, either, which made it easier to walk around the rooms and feast on the details without feeling pressure to move over or move on.

I told the kids to bring their wallets, and they found some cool, unique toys in the museum gift shop. (I talked my daughter out of the colored pencils, which we could buy anywhere, and she found a unique window glass art kit that she liked better.) Normally we wouldn’t buy stuff so close to Christmas, but it helps support the preservation trust, so it seemed like the right thing to do, especially since the tour was free.

We all left the house inspired by the architect’s vision, his unique design philosophy, the way natural light infused every room from the beautiful windows, building our own mini-creations with simple wooden blocks, the fascinating woodwork, attention to detail right down to the paint colors–Wright preferred natural earthy colors, according to our guides.

Standing there in Wright’s home, built in 1889, surrounded by moss-green walls, warm yet worn honey wood floors and light all around, it was impossible not to feel the beauty of his vision at every turn: a home filled with light and nature, form and function, beauty and tranquility.

It sure beat hanging out at the mall this time of year. Get creative. Stay creative. Even during the holidays.

To learn more about events sponsored by the Frank Lloyd Wright Preservation Trust, visit their website.

How to avoid creative burnout

Published December 8, 2010 Creative Life , Creative Writing , Creativity Coaching , Marketing 5 Comments
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Once as a freelance marketing writer, I agreed to a ridiculously insane deadline. (As opposed to a regularly insane deadline.) At 4:36PM on a Thursday, I was asked to solve a huge creative conundrum by 8:30am the next day. I was provided with three previously failed concepts and asked to “make them all work.” Somehow, someway. And if I had time, (ha!) maybe I could also come up with “a few” concepts of my own.

This to me was akin to working with both arms tied behind my back and a coyote chewing on my foot. With a paycheck at the end if I could get my hands untied and kick the coyote to kingdom come.

I worked all night. By 8:27am, I met the parameters and the deadline. I had successfully compressed the creative process, but the results could have been so much better if I had just had more time. And sleep. This is an excellent recipe for creative burnout.

While there will always be crunch times and projects, it’s never good if your entire working life is one ridiculously insane deadline after another. If you don’t take control of your creative life and deadlines, burnout is inevitable. So to help save your sanity, here are a few tips I’ve learned along the way…the hard way:

1. Don’t be afraid to abandon ideas. You might not be burnt out; maybe you’re simply tired of beating a dead horse. Sometimes you can find a way to make an idea work–some hidden angle or connection that comes with a fresh eye. But if it takes longer than say, 15 minutes, move on. You can always come back to it later–as in, for another project with a longer deadline and a completely different strategy.

2. Don’t taint the creative process. The worst thing you can do at the beginning of a new project is to focus on previous failed attempts. It’s like saying, “Ok, so here’s what didn’t work, what failed, what sucked. Now let’s find a way to make it work!”  Uh huh.

Start with the facts–the strategy, the objective, the primary goal or message. If the old ideas still have a shot, run with it. For 15 minutes. Then move on. Later you can ask what was tried before and what sucked, especially if you’re burnt out and need a giggle.

3. Ask for more time. It never hurts to ask what’s driving the deadline or if it’s a hard deadline. More often than not, you can get extra time–but not if you don’t ask up front. Sure, some of us ”need” deadlines to get things done. And you shouldn’t be a diva, constantly pushing back on deadline requests. But if you don’t give yourself enough time to think and simmer, the process will take longer, you’ll be miserable and…hello, burnout!

4. Say no. I still remember my grandmother, who grew up during the Great Depression, chiding me as a child for not eating my bread crusts, saying, “You never know when you might wish you had them.” This attitude permeates my work life, where I hate to say no to projects. But there are only so many things you can do at once before you lose your mind and your motivation.

It helps to “qualify your leads” ahead of time. Determine what your ideal sweet spot is for clients or projects–what’s most profitable for you? What’s your niche? Who is your ideal client? Define it all. Once you have these rules in place, it’s much easier to say no up front, before you overcommit or regret committing altogether.

5. Keep your creative warehouse full. All work and no play is the fastest way to drain your creativity. Read a little bit of everything you can get your hands on–blogs, magazines, newspapers, books, articles, white papers. Watch a little bit of everything you have time for–videos, vlogs, TV, movies. And most of all, be sure to get out from behind your desk and experience life. Live a little. It’s one of the best way to banish the creative burnout blues.

6. Identify your role in the insanity. I’ve already told you mine–I hate to turn down work, so I take on too much or too much of the wrong kinds of projects. It might be your fear of asking more questions or pushing back on direction that’s not clear. Analyze your last few crazy projects–what could you have done differently to make things less crazy?

7. Laugh. If you don’t, you’ll be crabby and crazy from your deadline. Boo hoo. So turn that frown upside down, call a funny friend, make fun of your worst concepts, crack a joke at your own expense. Creative relief, or at the very least, a little fun, is sure to follow.

How do you handle creative burnout when it happens? How do you prevent it? Enquiring minds want to know!

What you really mean when you say “I’m not creative”

Published December 1, 2010 Creative Life , Creative Writing , Creativity Coaching , Marketing , Social Commentary 3 Comments
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Over the years, I’ve heard countless people tell me that they are not creative. This always surprises and amuses me. What I’ve found is that this phrase is often used for other purposes. For example:

As a disclaimer: “I’m not creative, okay, but here’s my idea…”.

To soften a request: “I think we should use my headline instead of yours. I mean, I’m not creative, but I think it works better.”

To avoid work: “I can’t help you with this. I’m not creative.”

To sum up a vague objection: “I don’t like the bird graphic/the color purple/this story…but well, maybe it’s because I’m not creative.”

As a sarcastic jibe: “Yes, I saw your artwork/design/story. I’m not creative though, so maybe that’s why I don’t get it/like it/care.

To mask anxiety: “I’m a logistical person. I’m not creative. What do I know?”

So what does “being creative” really mean?
Everyone is creative. But “to be creative” means different things to different people. At its heart, creativity is about:

  • Curiosity: you want to know about people, places and things
  • Risk: you are willing to take a chance on things and ideas that are important to you; that includes speaking up and taking action when it matters
  • Reflection: thinking feeds ideas which feeds creativity
  • Patience: sometimes you have to wait for ideas to come and trust that they will come
  • Listening: sharing ideas requires a willingness to hear what someone else has to say without judgment
  • Passion: passion fuels inspiration which fuels creativity

Notice how I didn’t mention anything related to writing, artwork, painting, sculpture, design…all of those activities that are typically labeled as “creative.” Just because I’m a writer does that make me any more creative than a software developer who creates a cool app? Or a scientist who makes a major breakthrough in cancer research? Or a mom who finds a way to get her kids in the car without tantrums?

Exactly. Creativity is not something you either have or don’t have. We are all creative. Take a look at your own work and life and see all the ways, big and small, that you are creative. Use the six qualities above as a check list. You might be surprised at how creative you really are.

What does “being creative” mean to you?

11 things you never want to hear on Thanksgiving

Published November 19, 2010 Fun , Holidays 2 Comments
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It’s the Friday before the week of Thanksgiving, and you know what that means: it’s time to let our blog hair down and have a little fun. So for your entertainment, I’ve gathered the top 11 things you never want to hear upon arriving at your assigned Thanksgiving dinner–or any other time, honestly.

1. Giblets? What’s a giblet?

2. You mean there’s a bag of giblets I’m supposed to take out before I cook the turkey???

3. Guess I should have started cooking this turkey earlier, huh. (As the guests fight over a dwindling bowl of peanuts and a sad-looking veggie tray.)

4. You’ll never guess who showed up! (Said with a frozen smile and deer-in-the-headlight eyes.)

5. Grandma’s drunk and hitting on my boyfriend again!

6. Aren’t you glad we brought our dogs? They can eat all the scraps that fall on the floor, it’s like having two 90-pound vacuum cleaners!! (Punctuated with a hearty chuckle and a slap on the back of the nearest hapless victim.)

7. I gave the kids our Halloween candy leftovers to eat during the two-hour drive here; kept them pretty quiet in the car, but boy they’re raring to go now!

8. Was I supposed to bring the vegetable dish? Oopsie!

9. No food for the 9 of us, thanks. We’re still stuffed from the other house we just came from. (As you look forlornly at the 40 pounds of turkey left over that you will be eating in every conceivable recipe for the next six months.)

10. Don’t worry, you’re going to love my family! My dad just got out of prison so he’s way more mellow and my sister stopped that whole animal sacrifice thing

11. Next year it’s your turn to host Thanksgiving!

How ’bout you? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard or never want to hear on Thanksgiving?

No Halloween costume? No worries! All you need is sarcasm and a smile.

Published October 28, 2010 Creative Life , Creative Writing , Fun , Holidays 4 Comments
Tags: , , , , ,

You may remember the Lawn Lady, a gigantic lawn statue in front of a house in town. Last time we saw her, she was wearing a Cubs/Sox outfit. Now she’s in the spirit of the season in her Halloween costume. I have no idea what it is, but it sure is festive.

Speaking of which, what are you going to be for Halloween? Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who “don’t believe” in dressing up, where’s the fun in that! You don’t have any ideas, you say? No money for costumes? You’re allergic to craft projects? No problem! I’ve whipped up a few suggestions that are all 100% free, so you don’t need a crappy, overpriced store-bought costume or good craft genes. Here we go:

1. Be your boss. At work. What the heck, be your boss for the whole day! Get to work early, sit at his desk, take her meetings and calls, walk around the office muttering and bossing people around with inane orders like, “Fix those damn GPS reports!” and “Who scheduled the meeting I cancelled to discuss the meeting about last week’s meeting?” and “Powerpoints! We NEED MORE POWERPOINTS!” Eat other people’s lunches out of the fridge. Eat all the Halloween candy. You’re the boss, go for broke! Before you get fired.

2. Be your dog. Wear a spike collar and a retractable leash. Bark. Chase your co-workers. Bark. Chase your imaginary tail. Bark. Chase squirrels. Chase your tail again. Whine to go out. Whine to come in. Get a squeaky dog toy and squeak it every 5 seconds for 20 seconds. Whine to go out again. Pee on your neighbor’s lawn. Whine to come back in. No humping or butt sniffing, though. You want to have fun, not end up in jail.

3. Be your cat. Wear a collar with a little bell. Lick your hands. Repeatedly. Stare at people when they stare at you licking your hands. Lick your hands some more. Ignore people. Hiss at random and unexpected moments, like when people wish you a good morning or happy Halloween or when the cashier hands you your change. To really take it up a notch, cover yourself in cat nip. (Disclaimer: Author is not responsible for…whatever might happen to you.)

4. Be your kids. Talk like them, dress like them, whine like them. If they are young, be goofy. Wear their shoes on your hands, strap on a couple of diapers in odd places. Wrap a bib on your head. Wear six shirts at once and put your pants on backwards. If they are teenagers, it’s even easier–just be more of yourself than usual, they will be MORTIFIED.

If you’re a perfectionist go-getter, take it to the next level. Wear their clothes and shoes, keep their phone in one ear, music player in the other, plaster a sullen look on your face and say, “I’m bored” 100 times. Roll your eyes. Smirk. Roll your eyes again. Leave your dirty dishes in the sink and your dirty clothes on the floor in their room. Follow them around the house begging them to drive you places and give you money. Roll your eyes. It’s payback time!

5. Be extra enthusiastic. This one is super easy. All day long, be super positive, super happy, super perky, super fun. In fact, say the word “super” a lot. Other words that work: excellent, definitely, absolutely, you bet. End every sentence with a question: “It’s a beautiful day, right?” or, “Are you going to eat the rest of that pickle, isn’t it fabulous?”

Hand out compliments for everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. “Nice cuticles! Cute mole! Wow, what interesting ears you have.” Be positive and cheer on your fellow humans in every endeavor: “Way to walk down the bus aisle and not fall flat on your face!” Offer cheerful predictions at every turn: “That cigarette is going to kill you. But not today!”

If you make it to the end of the day without getting fired, sniffed, licked, Facebooked or smacked, well, bless your heart and have a happy Halloween.

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