When Life Pulls You from Your Creative Path — and How to Get Back On It
Dear friends,
After sending out last week’s newsletter, I got a call for two more jobs in quick succession.
The first was for The Wall Street Journal, and the second was to shoot a pilot for a potential series.
As such, I arrived back in my office a few days ago to a bombsite of cameras, lights, boom poles, SD cards, and audio devices.
The last month has thrown me out of rhythm with my own creative work. The worst part? I haven’t played a note of music in three weeks — and truthfully, I feel mortified.
Beyond that, I only have a tiny window to make some decisive moves — to get my monthly song finished, and of course, its accompanying music video.
So today’s newsletter is about what we can do when we feel a sudden and unexpected gulf open between what we’re trying to do creatively — and the serial ways life pulls us away from it.
Photo after filming at The Wall Street Journal
1. Cleaning Up As An Act of Creative Defiance
The first act is the one all of us know — but most of us forget.
There is nothing that psychologically marks the ending of one phase — and the invitation of another — quite like doing a deep clean of your space.
The truth is, I remembered this by accident.
I had been haunted for several weeks by the ground zero of chaos my music area had become. The busier I got, the more this corner of the office became a psychological vortex — as if my own conscience was staring back at me:
Hey man, wasn’t this the year you were meant to be getting things going again musically?
That’s the tough thing about having a creative project.
Sometimes, life just puts a choker on it.
What helped was that every area of life was being pulled into the Bermuda Triangle. And I knew I had to get a grip.
So I did what I rarely do:
I gave myself over entirely to sorting things out — a deep clean for the office, but by extension, a deep clean of my life.
Once all the film gear was put away, the floor vacuumed, and the surfaces wiped, I could no longer ignore it:
It was time to untangle the spaghetti junction of wires that had consumed my guitar pedals, looping station, and electric guitar.
It felt like wrestling with my own conscience.
But here’s the thing:
To get back to something, you have to face starting again.
Yes, we resist it — because starting again always feels like going backwards.
There’s that residue of regret, for all the things we haven’t done, but feel we could have.
But to make a fresh start, we can’t forget the fresh part of it.
Starting again is tough — but it’s also an act of bravery.
The truth is, many people never complete projects, or drift from their creative lives — not by choice, but because their ability to return after being pulled away weakens.
As if they break from their own gravitational centre.
Takeaway 1:
If something is weighing on your conscience, what’s one thing you could do today to move toward it?
Do that.
We forget it, but sometimes the smallest action creates the greatest movement.
Photo from the pilot I was shooting at Mahalla on Sunday
2. Confronting The Area of Deficit
The first step is always to get over my sense of loss.
When I’m not making or writing music, I get dragged down by the feeling that I’m not living up to my potential. And the longer it goes on, the more resistant I feel to coming back to it.
I find it especially hard because, after three weeks away, I know I’m technically already behind where I was — and I hate that feeling of having to catch up.
The voice in my head says: Why couldn’t you have just kept going a little bit, even in the meantime?
And the hard thing is — in some ways, that voice is right.
I’m at my best when I find a way.
But then again, that’s life, isn’t it? Work, friends, family — sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.
Here’s the thing:
You just have to pick up the damn thread.
And sometimes, time away feeds you.
You come back with a fresh take, or with an emotion that suddenly feels crystal clear.
Some of my favourite songs have come that way — when all the clever things I could do musically fall away, and what’s left is the truth of the feeling itself.
Today, I’m taking my own advice.
I’m going to pick up my guitar — and just see what’s there.
Takeaway 2:
You’re not broken — you’re just out of rhythm. Don’t overthink the return. Just pick up the thread and start again.
3. Walk Gently Through the Corridor of Darkness
One of the challenges we face is this:
To activate our creative self, we have to walk through a corridor of resistance, doubt, procrastination — and a pinch of dismay.
Dealing with those emotions is the threshold you must cross to get back to your flow.
Knowing in advance that they’ll be there empowers you.
Ah yes, I remember you.
And at last — when you choose to dance with the enemy rather than flee from him — you realise:
He’s not there to destroy you.
But still — you don’t get to escape the need to confront him in the first place.
Remember:
It’s not always easy.
Go light on yourself.
You’ve got damn fine work in you to come.
Takeaway 3:
Before flow returns, doubt will knock. Don’t fear it — recognise it, walk beside it, and keep going.
4. Some Useful Things to Reframe
The dark partner that accompanies you during a break from creative flow grows stronger by the day.
You have to be careful not to let its incessant self-criticism overcome you.
You start telling yourself you’ve been lazy, or that you’re not dedicated enough — when in truth, you’ve just been overwhelmed. Or life has pulled you in other directions.
Sometimes you even sit there wondering if the muse — that holy thing called inspiration — has left you altogether, rather than recognising a simpler truth:
You’re just tired.
Reality has exhausted you.
This isn’t about being undercommitted.
It’s about being human.
I know it’s hard to let go of those thoughts — but if you don’t, they’ll expand in the labyrinth of your subconscious.
You tackle them not by thinking your way out — but through bold, zealous action.
By bloody well getting back to it.
You are not “less” because you’ve stopped.
There’s absolutely no reason to carry this weight of guilt.
A creative life isn’t about exhausting yourself — it’s about sustaining yourself over time.
There will be fallow periods. There will be harvests.
Part of the work is staying in the game during the fallow.
The idea of “falling behind” is only a mental construct.
The only thing that matters is this:
Do you have the courage, right now, to make a move?
It doesn’t matter how ugly, how clumsy, or how small that move is.
Just look at Gustav Klimt.
After being battered by scandal and conservative backlash in Vienna, he withdrew from public life. Years passed in silence. But then, in 1907, he returned with The Kiss:
A masterpiece born not despite his retreat — but because of it.
You have no idea what’s waiting for you in your return.
The only question is:
Are you going to get to it?
Takeaway 4:
You’re not lazy — you’re human! Guilt’s usually the most unnecessary burden - try to let it go! Let action, however small, lead the way.
"You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You do not even need to listen, simply wait... The world will offer itself to you."
— Franz Kafka
Photo from the pilot for Gourmet Gamble
5. Find the Resistance, Start There
I wrote this today because it’s what I need to hear myself.
These last few weeks, I’ve really struggled to bring any balance all to my life.
One of the areas that’s suffered is my music.
And it gauls me.
But it’s also part of the process.
What makes me isn’t that this gap has happened.
It’s what I do next.
And there’s a beautiful lesson in that.
You are not what you haven’t done.
You’re not even what you might do.
You’re defined by the choice you make in your heart right now.
Part of that is letting go of the burden you’ve been carrying.
The shame.
The guilt.
The false belief that because you haven’t started, you never will.
Don’t let the desire to start become the reason you never do.
As I sit here in my creative room, I’m letting that sink in.
What really matters right now is the simplest thing in the world:
Picking up a guitar.
Feeling that little pinch on my fingertips.
And giving it a good strum.
If I let go of the burden of the gap,
I can release something in me.
And in doing so, I don’t just invite creativity back in — I invite joy.
It’s time to step in. Into whatever little transformation awaits me, in this — my most holy act.
In the end, what matters isn’t the product.
It’s the act of doing it, itself.
Takeaway 5:
You are not defined by the gap — but by the next move you choose to make. Let go, begin, and along the way, the joy returns.
Thanks for reading all!
Love Jim
p.s — managed to roughout a song (laughing because I kept on cocking it up!)
Loved it! Thank you for writing.
Did you write this for me?? 🤣 needed this one.