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For me, true creativity is a form of magic. It is the inexplicable (and rare) ability to seemingly make something out of almost nothing — words, paint, metal, stone, earth — by some alchemy that transforms those disparate elements into art and ideas that touch our emotions, imagination and sometimes unite the common human spirit.
How do those with the magical gift of creativity pull off their dazzling feats? I have no idea.
Basically I am a journalist. I observe, report and interview and if I’m lucky, by assembling the three ingredients of my craft I can sometimes turn out something stylish at best. Is that creativity? I don’t think so. It’s a skill set. I seriously doubt, except maybe when I talked about my beloved dog and my most recent entry into grandmother-hood, that I’ve touched upon some universal theme that resonates with someone reading what I write. Try as I might, I am incapable of assembling words into fiction to construct believable characters, situations, common experiences. That would be creativity.
|You see what I mean? It’s complicated.|
Please don’t misunderstand me. I do see another strata of charming creativity in the every day, the way one arranges flowers; the decoration of a home; fine cuisine; clever, sparkling writing; even the way some women dress. These are the types of creativity that make the quotidian interesting and even inspiring.
Then there are the other types of creativity: science, invention, innovation. Think computers, the Internet, advances in medicine, and on and on.
As you can see the subject confounds me, but isn’t it fascinating?