I can’t help but wonder if I have done something in the last so many years that has resulted in a lower level of creativity. Or was it something beyond my control, like age.
It used to be that my mind was over-flowing with story ideas. Throughout college, I would forego taking notes during lecture because I had to get the stories out of my head and onto paper. Often I’d only write a page or two before losing interest in the idea, but there was no end to new ones.
In my first post-college job, I would find myself jotting down stories on scrap paper when my supervisor wasn’t paying attention. I wrote whole stories on 4” x 6” pieces of paper intended for phone messages.
I can’t remember exactly when it happened. I must have been 22 or 23. In retrospect, it seems like someone cranked the handle on a faucet. If the creativity hasn’t been turned off altogether, it’s limited to an occasional drip here or there.
Was it the mind-numbing job in retail management?
Could it have been the drinking?
Or was it a hormonal change into adulthood?
How could the very workings of my brain have changed so drastically? Now I ache to be able to turn the faucet handle back in the other direction and have the creativity pour forth. I’d settle for a slow trickle at this point.