I need some help please.
I’m looking for answers to the question … how important is playing and having fun for our creativity?
One of the things I keep hearing recently is how impossible it is to make time for fun when most of us are working to pay the bills so we can manage to fit in our own writing and creativity.
But I wonder if there’s something else.
Here’s a famous image of Tolstoy…
… hmmm, somehow it’s hard to imagine him having fun like the writers Chris Tinniswood and Will Sutton, seen here at a recent Reauthoring event to look at new ways of presenting our writing…
Although of course I do imagine that Tolstoy did play at home, here’s a photograph of a family tennis match after all. It just wasn’t (or isn’t now?) his public image as a writer.
Have we become frightened of playing in case we aren’t taken seriously anymore?
I googled ‘suffering writer’ and came up with 50,600,000 results. Hmmm. Writers block, pain of publication, pain of no publication…. So if we are having fun, are we doing it right? Or with enough meaning?
And yet, and yet, surely playing is part of being a writer. Because what are we doing when we write if not playing on the page. And by playing, I mean in the sense of how Chris and Will were doing above – trying out different ways of telling the story, of showing new angles, even of taking on new personalities for the duration of the writing.
So what I want to ask you … is how important is play in your creative process? Do you make time to have fun? And if not, why not? And if you do, how does it help? I want to look initially at what you do to have fun OFF the page, as well as in your actual writing.
I’d really love to know your experiences. It’s for an article for Mslexia magazine, and I’ll of course contact you to ask permission if I want to quote you.
In the meantime, here’s a play-full thank you – some haikus by someone who did know how to play!
I play Skyrim on my PS3 (role play game); nothing beats the writing blues like sneaking around with a bow and quiver of arrows, picking off goulies and beasties alike, and completing quests.
As childish as it may seem, gaming is important for me because it gives me a break from my own narrative and escape from the real world. It lets that hyperactive, creative part of my brain switch off.
Sometimes I find writing is my play; I enjoy the spontaniety of my character acting in a scene to complications that are cropping up.
I like dreaming up scenes, fiddling with sentences and images. And I usually do this to music which means I’m a site of cerebral bubbling a lot of my time.
I tend not to ‘switch off’ much. Writing is my game. I’m pretty lucky!
That’s interesting, Sam. Thanks for commenting – I hadn’t thought of gaming as a break from one’s own narrative but of course, see it now. I misread ‘hyperactive, creative’ as ‘hypercritical’ first read – obviously projecting my own worries on to your comment!
I think that when you get bogged down in your writing and feel enmeshed in the whole imaginative process, it’s a sure sign you need to fill up your creative tank with new energy.
This energy comes from various sources:
(1) Interaction with your friends either verbally or playing games, listening to music, experiencing any art form, films exhibitions etc (2) through exercising your body indoors or out, (3) through good enjoyable sex, when available (!) and (4) most importantly, through inhaling nature’s own strong energy.
Earth wind water fire are all good and obvious primal sources of energy. Gardening, feeling your hands in the earth, walking in a brisk wind, swimming or being near the sea and making and watching fires burn. These are all invigorating energies which will rebuild your depleted reserves. Writing – thinking hard – saps you of so much inner strength.
Oh and throughout all this – laughter. Long hard and often – never take any of it too seriously! Surround yourself with hugely irreverend people who love a joke, and enjoy yourself. Do NOT suffer for your art!
Great reply, Alex. Thank you. I think you are right in that play/fun/whatever can give us new energy through its physicality as well as anything else. I particularly love ‘walking in a brisk wind’ and ‘watching fires burn’. And yes, laughter.
This is interesting because I don’t respond well to fun! Being too busy and too stimulated is counter-productive to my writing output. Daydreaming is important to me. Sitting, drinking tea, staring out of the window, or just staring. Being in a natural landscape, walking or cycling through woods, near rivers, etc, can help me unlock writing that has become trapped somewhere in my brain. Solitary train journeys, long periods alone; these can be helpful to me, too. I never know what will spark an idea for a story or poem, but I try to be very open to sparks,in a very quiet way. Being quiet and introverted is quite an asset, I think, because I can loiter unnoticed in busy places and drink it all in! As I’ve become older I’ve become less self-conscious – I will happily be alone ANYWHERE in any situation.
But does this suggest we have a certain idea of what fun may be, Josephine? I think this is really interesting, because when I had to keep a ‘fun journal’ for another magazine the set-piece fun event was actually the least enjoyable because it felt a little forced – and also fitting into other people’s (ie commercially based) idea of what was fun. I love ‘I try to be very open to sparks, in a very quiet way.’ That’s beautiful. Thank you.
I used to play with writing a lot more when I was a short story writer, flash fiction in particular as they take so little time to write. My favourite annual playtime was the ‘flashathon’ that Alex Keegan would run for Children in Need. Basically 24 hours of writing whatever the hell you wanted to prompts and, as they were posted for critique anonymously, you never felt self-conscious or inhibited about what you were writing (particularly at 2am when you were finishing the last of your bottle of wine!). Now I’m a novelist, and a new mum, I have so little time that I can’t really afford to play with writing. Not if I want to read, eat, sleep and exercise too! But you’ve just made me think that even I can/should find 5 minutes a day to play with writing. When it becomes your profession it’s so easy to lose the fun.
Cally, if you do find five minutes over the next week and it makes a difference will you let me know? That would be BRILLIANT. It’s interesting the difference between being a novelist and a short story writer and I wonder why that is – maybe more time etc invested in a novel?
I remember playing bingo with you in a seaside arcade at Portsmouth (after a conference) and going back to our hotel rooms and playing ‘glow’ bat and ball in the dark – your bingo prize! – and crying with laughter. Real play has that element of silliness about it for me, perhaps childlikeness is a better word as silly has a bad rep, though it shouldn’t. I like the kind of play that gives rise to joyous laughter because laughing like that refills me.
Ha! I remember that too, and laughing about it so much for days after too. And also the bingo. Weren’t we rather hopeless? Don’t think I even realised I had won until someone had to help me. It’s certainly one of the things I love about you, Lynne – your playfulness because Messages was really all about that too. Let’s bring back Silly.
And also if I remember properly, the day after that glow bat and ball game we gave a very serious conference talk… It is possible to do both.
Playing – by which I mean fooling around, playing snooker, having banter in the coffee shop, watching football, getting cranky with annoying neighbours, etc – is absolutely central to using words properly because it’s all about engaging with other people, both verbally and physically. I spent most of each day writing in some form or another but the idea of doing nothing else fills me with horror.
I LOVE your list of playing, Alex. And good link to using words properly and engaging – I hadn’t connected those so closely before.
Is that a photo of Will Sutton playing the accordion? I relax by running and play at gardening. Neither are very sociable but then neither am I.
Yep, that’s WIll. Aboard the LV21 – a light ship, now an arts centre where we’re putting on a show this summer.
A ship that has been turned into an arts centre? Sounds very interesting…it would be even better if the ship was on land (not good with being on boats). Will is a very talented writer and performer, I enjoy listening to him recite his work.
I used play a ton as an acting teacher. All sorts of games. I particularly liked one involving the transformation of everyday objects into a thing they are not. Some time when we meet, I’ll teach it to you!
I think of play as a key to removing self consciousness from the creative act. I think it is a useful tool because it is the one example most of us have in life of one’s job if we become some kind of creator. We all learn to do it in childhood: we choose to engage in some microcosm that isn’t the “real” world, it’s a subset of it – if a bomb were about to go off, we would all walk away – but otherwise the play deeply matters. In a game we play by the rules peculiar to that game and we play seriously, i.e. we play to win. I think that deep serious engagement in the absence of gloominess is more or less what creative involvement is. Play is a way to access the zone willfully.
Oh Ted, this makes me look forward to us meeting SO much. Come here soon – it’s lovely and rainy!
Really really great question! I once heard a well-known young writer asking a well-known much older writer “When does it get any easier?” and wailing about how much she was suffering with her writing – and I wondered, Well, why does she do it at all? I love writing what I love, the play comes for me in feeling free to write about anything I want and not to plot or plan but just to find out what my characters are up to. Maybe we short story writers feel freer because it can be as short as you want, no minimums… I pretty much always feel like I’m playing – perhaps because I rarely get paid for writing and so if I did get paid “serious” money I might have to feel more “serious” about it!
Thanks Tania.
I’ve spent a lot of time playing this year and most of it at my writing desk, also at the table where I work on collage and printing that reflects my new found love of poetry. In January, after a dismal 2011 with publishers who couldn’t seem to make their mind up about my latest novel I decided enough was enough and I gave myself permission to go Indie. The result has been that work has become play. I write whatever I choose, not worrying about the genre or what my agent thinks the market wants (I never got it right anyway!). I’ve started drawing and collaging again and am planning an exhibition with friends.I’ve had unexpected success with short stories which has thrilled me and given me lots of excuses to celebrate and have fun and celebratory drinks with friends. I’ve also loved developing my blog and making new connections with far-flung people. All of this has re-enrgised my work and helped me re-discover my love of writing. And writing, along with the odd crazy camping trip, days out in London and hanging about in the garden with friends listening to music is absolutely my idea of fun.
Thanks Avril – I really like how I can almost feel the creative burst from this comment alone!
Thank you so much all for these wonderful comments. Really helpful – and encouraging to know how many of us there are who like to play!
I love this question. When I started writing at first it was all play, what can I do? Lets see! I didn’t have the idea of someone reading it in mind or know enough about the contemporary writing scene to worry about critics and reactions to the work. Later, I saw the necessity for more editing, and setting some deadlines for myself- which can feel more like work- you have to sometimes do it whether you’re in the mood or not. I think its easy to lose our ability to play as adults, and its crucial. Its taken many forms for me. If I’m editing I can’t rely on the page to always provide a playground- so I find it elsewhere. I set myself a task of trying someting new and creative every week for 10 weeks once. During that time I did little things I haven’t done before like trying to make a rag rug, use oil paints, embroider a bookmark with my favourite swear word on it, use a scalpel and cut out some grafitti art, take some felt and make some little monsters with it. I’m in no way an artist and don’t have many craft skills but all this was hugely fun and playful to me because I didn’t aim for perfcetion. When we write we aim for every word to be exactly right, so it can’t all be play, there’s a freedom to playing elsewhere. I’ve also found doing something completely different when you are writing can be hugely liberating. If you are writing a serious story and stuck, come away for half an hour, put on some music and write a daft poem or tiny flash fiction. It may turn out good, or it may be silly and the sort of work you somehow don’t classify as your real work- it doesn’t matter. Either way, playing keeps the energy up and brings surprises when you go back to what it is you are working on.
Sarah,
I love this question too. I find it tremendously difficult keeping the freedom and flexibility to play. Once writing becomes work, the guilty ethic kicks in; it’s hard to start, hard to come away from it; and all the impulses to play get quashed as distractions from the job that needs done. I have to programme in things I can’t get out of: outings, visits, people, cricket, swimming…and always feel better (though, says the doubting voice, I haven’t progressed).
When things are more dynamic, I sometime:
- scribble nonsense while still half-asleep in the morning
- pick up a guitar
- go somewhere new to write (away from home distractions/jobs, with strange new sounds and voices)
- draw
- wander through streets or by the sea
- do my tai-chi
These are my top games.
One plawright friend of mine always said, when in need of fun, Feed Your Mind. He played video games to warm up sometimes. Another friend was telling me how he just reads or walks or writes as he feels like it. I was horrified: read? During hours that you might write? Or is he right? Am I sitting unproductive when I might allow myself that pleasure? Or are the unproductive hours leading somewhere?
Fun to think about it. Love the Kerouac too, with his mischievous curl in the voice.
When it comes to taking a break from writing – I like to dance in my bedroom to 90′s girl bands. I like to look a scuba diving outfits and cute skates even though i don’t do those things. I love to look at people eating bowls of cereal because i think they look sweet and sometimes I sit on yahoo answers laughing at teenage girl love questions.
When I go back to writing I’m able to look at the words with fresh eyes as if i was a kid all lost and confused. I seem to write more words feeling confused and then slowly it starts to make sense, i think playfulness helps to see it fresh.
Hi Sarah
I’m glad to see I’m not alone – ‘fun’ can be a scary word, you know. I makes me think of uber-jolly camp leaders, or drunk people at parties making me play games whose sole aim appears to be to make me uncomfortable and embarrassed. It’s the uber-jolly leaders of fun that I fear, though, not the fun itself – I loved the games we played at the first ReAuthoring weekend, and the rare chance to be as uninhibited as I can be (which is not very!) and that’s no doubt in part to the lack of pressure to be something I’m not (no life and soul of the party am I).
Play with other people can inspire me, but it’s also exhausting – I had to go away and be very quiet for several days after a whole weekend of ReAuthoring!
Play for me involves not having to do stuff well – so writing a 140-character twitter story on a Friday afternoon is play, but finishing a short story to send off in the hopes of publication isn’t. I get a lot more enjoyment out of the latter though, so maybe it’s another kind of play?
Playing my cello’s similar – noodling around with no particular tune in mind is peaceful, but I get bored of it quickly. Preparing for and playing in a concert is hard work (and often terrifying because I’m never good enough) but it’s an incredible experience – ‘play’ just isn’t powerful enough to describe it.
I’ve just read what I’ve written – Jesus I sound serious. And I guess I am, but I also prance around the kitchen doing my Night Fever moves, sing appallingly in the car, and love nothing more than sitting round the table laughing with my family – so maybe that’s how I play. Where can I get the luminous bats, though? They do sound fun!
HI Sarah
I loved the re-organised art of Ursus Wehrli..underneath the playful approach the link between the ordered and disordered (playful) mind. I will be sending the link to all my art friends.
As an artist who also writes.I thought the two were opposites but writing is just making pictures with words. Not really that simple I know…but when writing about art process, technique and ideas..I seem to write as I think and speak..I am not an academic. I do ‘edit’ (no white shoes moment Sarah) but realise my voice needs to be heard. My visual work is playful.I have a Magpie mind. So often, when in front of the keyboard. I will go in the garden and sketch, play on the sewing machine or as described by June above, ‘not having to do things well’…but this can act as a ‘creative enema’ (Yes they did allow me to leave that in my first publication) and lead to new things.
Stitching the back of bookmarks..just because you can, and making stitch, sound and work come together..is just that..play. Follow the link:
http://youtu.be/-_0HDug3Yy0