Order is a concept that I don’t see often discussed when I read about creative work. And I guess that makes sense. After all, think of the stereotypical creative genius. What comes to mind? A frazzled, disorganized, scatterbrained mess, right? Order is often the last thing you associate with creative genius. However, order has a lot to do with great creative work — in two distinct ways.
The Order of Operations
The first interpretation of order is about how you do what you do. It’s about process. So when you look at the order in which you do things, look at your process. What’s your first step? What signifies the end of the first step and the beginning of the next one? How strict is the process?
Furthermore, why is this your process? Why start the way you do? Is it because that’s the way you’ve always done it? Is there just momentum behind this process, rather than reason? All of these questions are worth asking when you’ve fallen on tough creative times.
Don’t get me wrong — having a process is important. It’s an important thing to ensure consistent output, quality, and especially to prevent the paralysis that comes with having an idea, and having to think about how to bring it to life. When you have a set process, you know just what to do to get from inspiration to completion — you can just get into a groove, and work on cruise control.
But there is a problem with being in a groove and working on cruise control. You see just cruising, in a groove, is good only if the groove is headed in the right direction — toward a worthwhile end. If it isn’t, that groove isn’t helping you; it’s hurting you. It becomes a barrier that makes it hard to pivot and try something new — it’s resistance, and it can be a killer.
But let’s carry the driving analogy a bit further. If you spend all of your time on cruise control, feet off of the gas, hands touching the wheel only half-heartedly, could you be a little rusty when it comes to actually driving — being aware of where you’re going and where you are? Could it be that you’ve come to rely on process to carry you — in an unhealthy way?
Sometimes, it may just be that your process — which was once a silent partner in your success, but is now a silent burden.
Order and Disorder
The second interpretation of order is the order or disorder in which you create. As creative types, many of us leave the rest of our world in disarray. It has become part of the stereotype of creatives. There’s nothing inherently wrong with this. After all, focus belongs on what is important, whatever the task at hand is. Obviously, the task at hand is creating, not tidying up, right?
Well, not quite. I hate to go all Mr. Miyagi here, but there really is no isolation when it comes to what we do with our minds. When we gather stray papers, clean out the garage, or vacuum and wash the disgusting kitchen floor, we may think we’re doing something unrelated to creative work. But like Mr. Miyagi shows Daniel, these things are only unrelated insofar as we think they are. They often involve arrangement, categorization, and other tasks that are not meaningfully different from creative mental work.
So I do tend to side with Mr. Miyagi here, in two important ways.
First, clutter, filth, and disorganization can have a crippling effect on us, psychologically. This is especially true when things aren’t going well — and especially when it comes to your work. A messy set of surroundings contributes to stress, as well as drawing focus away from important things.
Secondly, even if we think we’re really not bothered by disorder around us, just the activity of creating and applying order to things can spark creative thinking. It requires you to look at the external world and interact with it in a way that relates your mental constructs to it. There is interaction; your mind having an effect on the world around you, and the world around you affecting your mind. This is important interplay; it shouldn’t be underestimated — it’s a model for what creative work can be: changing and being changed by the world.
Keep Moving and Keep a Wide Scope
It jut might be that creative minds are like sharks — we must keep moving, or risk something akin to creative death. It’s likely not quite that bad, but you get the idea. Maintain your nimbleness by keeping your movement going. This doesn’t mean to maintain a fevered pace or run around like a headless chicken. It means that you need to stay fluid, nimble, and in practice. You need to keep thinking, keep wondering, and stay at the ready.
It also helps to keep a wide scope. Never allow the scope of your creative work to be just the typing of words, the putting of paint on paper, the arrangement of pixels, etc. It is so much more than that. As I’ve stated before, the bulk of your creative progress is not in your output— it’s in the realm of ideas.
We make progress in our creative work when we solidify our grasp on the ideas, emotions, or truths we are trying to convey or express. While the physical product of our work on that front is a representation of that work, it’s not the work itself. So don’t discount your equivalent of waxing on and waxing off as unrelated to your creative work. It too, is creative work — and in doing it, you make progress, whether others see it or not.