creativity Archives - Rachel Nightingale

Time and what you do with it

By Rachel Nightingale | November 12, 2019

About this time last year I went to an exhibition of prints, paintings and stained glass by Christian Waller, an art nouveau artist from Castlemaine, Victoria. The artworks were incredible. Absolute artistry: technique combined with expression. Each work had mythical underpinnings as Waller was interested in theosophy and expressed her studies in what she created. I found the exhibition moving and inspiring. But I also felt a deep well of frustration that sits inside me.

What I saw in those artworks was the expression of time. The exhibition reminded me making good art is a full-time job. To reach that level of technical mastery, as well as to have the ability to move people many, many years after she created her art, Waller needed the time to become excellent at her craft. These were the works of someone who had given much time to her creative gifts.

Finding Time to Create

I have spent many years fitting my writing around real life. Raising children, earning an income, the mundanities of every day living such as doing the washing. These are all things I have given priority to over my writing, my entire life.

But whatever I have done over the years, there’s always been a part of me burning to create. To write stories, to draw and paint, to express myself in creative ways. I was trained as a social worker and worked in social work for many years, but it never felt like my vocation. Then I had children and spent years raising them, including a long period of home-schooling them. Once my children were becoming independent, I went back to study because I’d been out of the workforce so long. This led me to become an academic editor, which was enormously helpful in becoming a better writer. But it was another task to add to my time.

The Creative Flame

Throughout all those years the creative drive was burning inside me. And I was barely fuelling the flame. My writing always came last, fitted around everything else that needed to be done. When I was published, I had a major dose of imposter syndrome because I felt I had barely given any time to writing. In reality, that’s not true – you don’t end up with six novels, a musical, various plays and any number of short stories if you haven’t spent time writing. But it was always peripheral. Creative time squeezed in around the edges of living time.

As you get older, this issue becomes more pressing. As more of my family pass away, my awareness that we all only have a limited span becomes more acute. I have health issues that may restrict my ability to sit and type in the future. At some point, writing stories may become more difficult. Often people don’t do things they want to do, because they think there’s always time. Our days pile up behind us, filled with a lot of the things we have to do, and less of the things we love to do. But time isn’t an endless resource. So feed your creative flame. Bring beautiful things into the world. Make people think and feel with your words and songs and art. Remind us we are human.

Why is social media addictive?

By Rachel Nightingale | October 2, 2019

This is probably a really stupid post to write for an author who uses social media to promote her books. But I am deeply interested in the practice and nurture of creativity. In my experience, the more time I spend on social media, the less I am able to draw on my creative abilities. And I find spending time away from social media difficult. I know I’m not the only one. When I catch up with friends, it’s usually a question of when they will pull out their phone or I pad, not if. At the same time, none of them will admit they find these things addictive. Every single one of us thinks we’re in control. It’s only our friends who aren’t.

The first step in breaking addictive behaviour is becoming aware you have it. There’s definitely nothing to be ashamed of, since we are fighting deliberate psychological manipulation on a mass scale by trying to withstand the use of our devices. As a creative person, I think the fight is worth it. I don’t want to lose my ability to come up with story and plot ideas. I don’t want to waste precious days endlessly scrolling.

Are you addicted? That’s up to you to decide. But here’s what you face every time you pick up your device.

The internet is designed to be addictive

According to neuroscientist Jaak Panksepp, seeking is a fundamental human behaviour. The drive to explore and seek is a fundamental part of being human. We receive dopamine rewards for doing so. But Panksepp defines addiction as excessive seeking. The need for that dopamine hit leads us to do more of the behaviour that gives it to us. The internet delivers new information and opportunities quickly, constantly rewarding our seeking. But that is not all.

Alerts and notifications on phones and apps are deliberately designed to offer intermittent rewards. The notification symbol, the ‘likes’ on our posts, the scrolling design, have all been developed in conjunction with psychologists, to keep us online longer. Several experiments, including Pavlov’s famous one with his salivating puppy, have found intermittent reward leads to a greater likelihood a behaviour will continue. The internet is very much like this. Sometimes when you go in to Twitter or Instagram you don’t have a notification. Sometimes you do. So you keep checking.

What can you do to break the cycle?

Lots of articles abound on breaking internet addiction. Being mindful of how much you pick up your phone can be a good starting point. Turning off notifications from social media and emails can reduce the urge to grab the phone. There are aps available which will show you your internet use so you become aware of how much time you are frittering (or Twittering) away. They can also help you stop using as much. I have found Forest to be effective. It grows a tree, and if you pick up your phone while it’s growing the tree dies. It seems pretty ironic to me to use an ap to stop using aps, but we live in a cyber world. Logging out of aps so it’s harder to check them can also help.

For me, the most effective way of curtailing my addictive checking is to turn off my phone and put it away for the day. It is just too easy to pick it up. I also don’t like the slightly blurry, disconnected feeling I get when I’ve been immersed in a cyber world for too long. And I hate the sense, at the end of the day, that I’ve lost a day’s creative practice to meaningless scrolling. I want to be a producer of art, not switch off my brain and be an endless consumer. So remembering those feelings can act as a strong motivation to stay away from my devices.

Restoring creativity

As I mentioned at the beginning, I definitely see an impact on my ability to think creatively if I spend too much time in the cyber world. The reverse is true. The less time I spend on social media and websites, the easier it is to tap into my ability to come up with story ideas and characters.

It’s so easy and tempting to pick up our devices, but we only get so many days to live. I can think of far better, more creative ways to spend them than swiping my finger across a glass screen, my eyes glazed. Like writing books.

Light in the darkness

By Rachel Nightingale | February 19, 2019

We live in interesting times. Some would say dark times. It can be hard to see the light in the face of climate change and rising hatred. As a writer, or an artist of any type, it can be difficult to feel that what you do matters. Many of my creative friends seem to regularly experience waves of doubt about continuing with their art. Partly this doubt arises because of the economic narratives that favour makers of money over makers of art, as I’ve spoken of before. We are told we don’t matter if what we do isn’t financially successful It can also be because it’s easy to feel like a tiny voice in a great sea of voices, failing miserably to be noticed. And it can arise because there are those who take delight in telling writers and artists that they are being self-indulgent.

It’s ‘just’ entertainment

Attacks from the self-righteous take a couple of forms. The one I’ve personally been attacked for, that I’ve written about before, is that if you’re a woman over 40 you should only be reading feminist tomes. Not fantasy, or anything that’s ‘just entertainment’. As if we can make the world a better place be placing restrictions on our reading and thinking.

The other side of this coin is that as writers we should only be writing serious essays. Not genre fiction or anything that’s a light read. Some take the view that in the current climate we should all be addressing difficult issues all the time. I’ve actually tried that. For my PhD I wrote about how fiction writing could help us address climate change by changing our relationship with the earth. My ideas were torn apart as naiive. And no one was interested in what I had to say. So I’m done with serious. I’m going to write the stories I want to write. And I think that’s okay.

My view of the world

When you grow up reading a lot of fantasy, as I did, you are taught there is good, and there is evil. As you grow older, your understanding of this becomes more nuanced. My thinking now is that there are forces of creation, and there are forces of destruction. Some people live their lives being creative, in whatever form. This might be through the arts, or caring for others, animals or the environment. They contribute to the world we live in, in a positive way. Others live lives that destroy: they destroy the world around them, and they destroy the lives of others. (It’s not always as dramatic as that sounds, but people can do an awful lot of harm without much effort!)

Everyone has the ability to live both ways, of course, and lives are a mix of creative and destructive acts. The question is, on balance, what do you bring to the world? Are you led to create, or to destroy? The writers and artists I know feel their creativity as an urge they must follow. Yet they doubt themselves. As if creativity were not a force for good in the world. As if creativity doesn’t make things better, in ways you can’t see.

Being the light

Creative practice brings light into the world. I think it shifts the balance. Maybe the world hovers like a seesaw, sometimes veering towards the darkness, sometimes towards the light. What if each act of creativity counteracts an act of destruction? Imagine if you could step back, far into the void of space, and look at the earth, and see puddles of darkness interspersed with brilliant stars. Who wouldn’t want to see more light? It brings illumination, understanding, beauty. Without it we fumble in the dark, and fear grows.

If your creative act brings one more spark of light to the world, it matters. It may matter to only one person, or it may matter on a scale you can’t see right now, because you can’t stand far enough away to understand the need for balance. But the darkness is spreading. We feel it. So don’t let doubt win. Continue to create, and to be the light.

The Magic of Creativity: Why the Tarya books are about all artists

By Rachel Nightingale | November 13, 2018

Photo by Ivandrei Pretorius, from Pexels

Tarya, the mystical otherworld of the Tales of Tarya series, is a place of magic and creativity. It is a place reached in those moments when we become absorbed in what we are creating, whether that is a novel, a painting or a song. When author Laura Goodin recently launched Columbine’s Tale, she talked about why creatives know Tarya and its magic so well. I was so thrilled with the way she had captured the central premise of the book that I asked if I could include her speech on my blog. Read on to understand what lies at the heart of the books Harlequin’s Riddle and Columbine’s Tale.

When creatives get together…

One night a few years ago, our apartment was filled with actors, musicians, and techies. They had just closed a successful run of The Merry Wives of Windsor (in which my husband had had a role). As is the way of theatre people after closing night, they were boisterous, roisterous, and rowdy. The windows were rattling; the light fixtures were swinging; people were bouncing off the walls.

Our daughter, also a theatre person, was in high school at the time. She’d brought a friend over for the evening: a quiet and pensive young woman who was by nature a scientist. Our daughter, of course, was completely at her ease, but her friend sat stiffly, hands clenched together in her lap, shoulders drawn in, looking uneasily around the room. My husband, himself an exuberant bear of a man, bounded over to the sofa where the two sat, flung out his arm in an expansive gesture to indicate the chaos around us, and cried jubilantly, “This is what we have instead of money!”

Tarya is magic

What was the “this” he was talking about? What had we chosen above security, above money, above society’s approval? It was Tarya: the wonderful realm of magic and mastery and exhilaration that we artists enter when we create – if we’re lucky. It’s not a sure thing. But once you manage to find it, you spend the rest of your life trying to get back there. When you’re in Tarya, you are aligned with something huge, irresistible, and utterly glorious, like a needle aligned with the massive magnetic forces of the earth. You are doing what you were born to do, buzzing and ringing with the elemental power of the universe. Who wouldn’t give anything for that?

Tarya can be dangerous

The characters in Columbine’s Tale have been to Tarya, and, yes, they’ll do anything – absolutely anything – to protect their access to it. At the same time, Mina, herself no stranger to Tarya, knows what this access costs, and she’ll do absolutely anything to stop the other characters from wreaking yet more damage, ruining yet more lives. And here is the kernel of this fabulous story: the irresistible force meets the immovable object. She must stop them, but she can’t stop them. She must stop them. Yet she can’t stop them. These characters want what they want with a mighty wanting, which makes them vibrant, complex, and entirely alive. They face terrible consequences whichever way the plot resolves, and they act within a complex and richly described world that imposes genuine constraints on their choices and actions, which makes the story both riveting and deeply emotional.

Tarya is a compulsion

This book is written not just with craft, but with heart. The idea of Tarya is not just a clever plot device or facile metaphor for artistic creativity. Instead, it’s a focus for yearning, for the compulsion to create, for the demands that art places on the artist – demands that we leap to fulfill, for we can do nothing else. We have been there. The question Columbine’s Tale asks is an uncomfortable one: will we, too, do anything to get back? Anything? Are we greater or lesser artists if we, like Mina, hesitate?

Why we need slow art

By Rachel Nightingale | August 28, 2018

Living fast – or slow

In the developed world levels of stress and mental illness are rising rapidly. There are various contributors to this: feelings of inadequacy that arise from comparing yourself to others on social media; the unexpressed grief caused by the mammoth in the room that is climate change; and the ever-increasing pace of life that demands everyone do more but get paid less.

In reaction, there has been a growth in social movements that promote a more considered pace of life. The slow food movement encourages the appreciation of real food, cooked in a considered way that takes time to draw out maximum flavour and nutrition. Slow living has come to the fore as part of voluntary simplicity, encouraging a lifestyle based on returning to more traditional ways of doing things, such as baking your own bread or making your clothes. Another movement that could sit side by side with these, that is desperately needed, is a return to slow art.

Churning through life

The pace of life has been carefully sculpted by large societal forces: Capitalism and social media. Social media works on principles identified by Pavlov. Every like and smiley face is positive reinforcement that keeps us scrolling. Each new piece of information keeps us hooked to our feed. We get a little dopamine hit every time we get something new, so we have become attuned to needing constant input. This results in churning. There always has to be something fresh to catch our attention.

Capitalism reinforces this. Capitalism only works if everyone keeps shopping, which requires a constant flow of new products. After all, people won’t buy things they have already bought. This is noticeable in the book industry. The time a book spends in a book shop has been getting less and less over the years. New books now are given very little time to make an impact (ie sales) before they are removed, returned and pulped. When I was told this by a bookseller, that time had shifted from three months to one month. It could be less now. New authors get very little opportunity to be noticed – the briefest window before everyone moves on to the next big thing.

The Netflix effect

The other thing that works against slow is the Netflix effect. Being able to binge-watch a show means people no longer want to wait for the next instalment. This is true of books too. I have spoken to authors who are under pressure (and contract) to get the next book in a series out as quickly as possible. Otherwise the readers’ attention and dollars might go elsewhere. The industry seems to believe readers don’t have the patience to wait, and sometimes they don’t. Nowhere is this more evident than in the case of Patrick Rothfuss, author of the Kingkiller Chronicle, a marvellous fantasy series. The third and final book has been a long time coming, and Rothfuss has been subjected to significant online abuse for keeping people waiting.

Why this is a problem for art

Is this just how the world works now? Should we just accept it? I don’t think so. Because art takes time. Art is the expression of a human life. Through art a soul is bared on canvas or on the page or through a dress design. The creative process isn’t just the moment when paint is applied or words are written. It is the research that allows a piece to have depth and substance. It is the many hours spent developing technique. And it is that magical, alchemical time when the creative imagination is allowed to daydream and wander, transforming experiences and inspiration a creation that will reach out to others.

Why slow art matters

According to Celtic tradition, the Poets who guard the fountain of knowledge, known as the Aois Dana, give the gift of insight and creativity to artists, poets, story tellers and bards. These people are chosen so they can imbue their art with the memories and wisdom of their culture*. Artists create works that express the soul, that speak of what it is to be human, that provide connection and meaning to those who experience them. But art that is thoughtful and beautiful, and says important things, takes time. It must be nurtured carefully so that it emerges in the best form to express its truth.

We live in an era where truth is fragile and meaning is reduced to marketing catch-phrases. More than ever we need art that speaks to us, reminding us of the wisdom that is missing from so many public conversations. The greatest gift we can give the artists and creators is time. Time to research, time to dream, and time to create art that will speak to us.

* See the wonderful Celtic Folk Soul: Art, Myth and Symbol, by Jen Delyth

Brilliant darkness: An interview with Isobel Blackthorn

By Rachel Nightingale | May 21, 2018

Today I’m delving into the mind of author Isobel Blackthorn and I have to admit to being both excited and a little nervous. Isobel’s books are brilliant, and having a thrilling dark edginess. She holds a PhD in Western Esotericism and the occult features in most of her writing. So far Isobel has published five novels, The Legacy of Old Gran Parks, The Cabin Sessions, A Perfect Square, The Drago Tree and Asylum, and a short story collection, All Because of You. An avid writer, her current work includes two dark psychological thrillers and a biographical fiction of occultist, Alice Bailey. If this little taste leaves you wanting more, visit her website.

Which writer or writers opened your eyes to the magic of storytelling and why?

I’ve always been an avid reader and it’s hard to single out any particular author. As a child Pastures of the Blue Crane by Hesba Fay Brinsmead left a deep and lasting impression. In my early twenties, I was captivated by Hermann Hesse and Franz Kafka, and then by Doris Lessing. I devoured her entire Children of Violence series, which is set in what was then Rhodesia, and much of her Canopus in Argos Archives, which is amazing science fiction. A little later I read Iain Banks’ The Wasp Factory, and I loved the novel so much I read everything by him I could lay my hands on and there was a stage when I didn’t read any other author. I wasn’t reading much during that phase of my life, it was a dark period, and Iain Banks kept me going. I’ve always felt a profound sense of belonging to the world of novelists, even before I was one, as though the authors whose books I loved were sitting beside me as friends.

Why do you think people need stories in their lives?

Stories give shape to our lives. Stories help us make sense of the world. Stories open us to our own imaginations. Morality, empathy, compassion and understanding, all these qualities are enhanced by reading fiction. For many, stories are a form of escape from the burden of life, a way to unwind, or a form of entertainment. Even then, a story may invite us to ponder or question.

What is your greatest magical power as a writer?

What an interesting question! All storytellers are magicians. All creativity is a form of magic. We cast spells on the minds of our readers, viewers, listeners. We enchant. And we do so to manipulate the reader into seeing the world our way, or another way, if only for a while. We might be trying to transform the reader in some way. Even at the level of pure entertainment, a novel is enchantment, the reader is taken away from their ordinary reality and into their imaginations.

Which mythic archetype or magical character most resonates with you and why?

The Fool. I walk through life and into situations naively and largely unaware of the people around me and their hidden motives and agendas. I have a sort of natural blindness. I take people at face value and in good faith. I accept what they present to me as truth. I fail to see the shadow. Therefore, I have been tricked and deceived, abused and trampled on, or treated as though I am not worth more than as somewhere to wipe one’s feet.

Isobel Blackthorn writes across a range of genres

That said, I do not carry around a sense of victimhood and I am not bitter, I simply keep walking on, just as the Fool keeps walking. Although with age, I am a little wiser. We are all made wiser if we try to learn from situations and our mistakes. I have learned that people lie. I have learned that people run their own agendas. I have learned that the person who tells you to beware of someone stabbing you in the back, is in all likelihood holding the knife. On the up side, I have accumulated a treasure chest of experiences and every writer needs those!

What themes or ideas do you find keep arising in your writing?

The occult crops up in most of my writing as a theme, as do art and social justice. I have a passion for the Canary Islands (Spain), and set some of my stories there. Each novel I write is distinct. I write across genres and I like to explore a range of ideas. A Perfect Square is a good example of the themes I like to explore. On one level, it is a story about different approaches to creativity. It is also a dark mystery concerning two mothers and their daughters.

Flow as a Doorway to Magic

By Rachel Nightingale | September 22, 2017

Harlequin’s Riddle is not your typical fantasy. There’s actually not a droplet of magic in it. Mina, the central character, doesn’t learn magic. There is no speaking of spells, hand waving or use of wands anywhere in any of the books. There are some fantastic books out there that use this sort of overt magic. But I went in a different direction. What interests me is thinking about what magic already exists in the world. We forget how incredible life is, taking for granted all the wondrous things that happen every day. This is especially true for people. Their minds are complex, their lives are fascinating and their achievements can be staggering.

I’m particularly interested in creativity, and how that shapes people. Or, as becomes evident in my book, how people use their creative abilities to shape the world. Art, in whatever form, can change the way we think about things. It can take us out of the moment, transporting us so completely that we forget who we are. It can help us to empathise and connect with others, or heal long-held hurts.

About Flow

In my explorations in creativity over the years I’ve noticed a recurring theme, which is that when people do their creative practice, whatever that might be, they go into a different state, or mindset. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, a psychology professor, calls this state ‘flow’. In this state creators become completely absorbed in whatever they are doing. The requirements of the real world (food, ego etc.) fall away in place of a sense of fulfilment. This state can be very productive. Csiszentmihalyi also says the “whole being is involved”.

Flow and Writing

Many writers have had the experience of working on a piece, and having some sort of inexplicable or unusual experience, such as a character ‘coming to life’ and taking control of the story. Or writing about a place they’ve never been to, only to discover when they get there or see photos of it that they’ve described things with an uncanny accuracy. This is what fascinates me about flow – what if it is an opportunity to tap into a different mental state that links you in some way to something bigger than yourself? This was an idea I wanted to play with in my book.

Flow in Tarya

In Harlequin’s Riddle I take this idea of flow as a starting point to the fantastical elements of the story. Rather than a doorway to a different mental state, creativity becomes a literal doorway – to a place called Tarya. It is a place that sits beside the real world. There are spiritual aspects to Tarya, but it is not just a separate realm, like heaven. Events that happen in Tarya can have an effect on the real world. Mina, the central character of the book, discovers she is able to reach Tarya when she tells stories. But more importantly, she is able to bring aspects of her stories into being for her audience.

Writers are endlessly fascinated by the writing process. Sometimes it can definitely feel like it is magic. Having a heroine who can do interesting things with her stories is so much fun as a writer. I’d like to think there’s a little bit of me in Mina – or a little bit of Mina in me. But she may have other ideas…

If you’d like to learn more about Mina’s abilities, sign up to my email list (see the bottom of the page) and I’ll send you a free short story that tells you Mina’s back story.

An Interview with Sophie Masson

By Rachel Nightingale | September 7, 2017

I’m very excited that today’s post is an interview with prolific award-winning author and publisher, Sophie Masson. I plan to do one interview a month with an author that I believe brings magic into the world with their writing. I can think of no better place to begin than with Sophie, who has a fascination with fairytales and myths and has written many truly magical books. Her stories have enchanted readers of all ages across a range of genres. She will be appearing at the Historical Novel Society of Australasia Conference this weekend, for which she is the conference patron. This will be an exciting weekend of workshops, talks and panels focused on historical fiction (I’ll do a wrap up of the conference next week.) Sophie’s generous endorsement of Harlequin’s Riddle has encouraged readers to pick up my book, for which I am enormously grateful.

You can find out more about Sophie in her own words on her website and blog or on Facebook or Twitter.

About Sophie

Born in Indonesia to French parents and brought up in Australia and France, Sophie Masson is the award-winning, internationally-published author of over 60 books, for children, young adults and adults. Her latest books include the YA historical thriller, Jack of Spades, two picture books, Two Rainbows, illustrated by Michael McMahon, and Once Upon An ABC, illustrated by Christopher Nielsen, and the adult paranormal thriller duology, Trinity: The Koldun Code and Trinity: The False Prince, set in modern Russia.

Which writer or writers opened your eyes to the magic of storytelling and why?

Glad you asked for writers in the plural ? So many of these opened my eyes to storytelling magic when I was a child: the great tellers of fairy tales, for instance, Grimm, Perrault, Andersen, Madame Leprince de Beaumont(of Beauty and the Beast fame), the anonymous tellers of the Arabian nights…And then, writers ranging from CS Lewis to Tove Jannsson, Nicholas Stuart Gray to Jules Verne, Alexandre Dumas to the Countess de Segur, Herge(of Tintin fame!) and Goscinny and Uderzo(of Asterix fame!); Alan Garner, Paul Berna, Enid Blyton, Patricia Wrightson..and many many many more! On my blog I’ve written about five of my favourite childhood books—the list is huge but I just selected these five and wrote about why I loved them: in all of them, storytelling is a huge ingredient, as is magic and adventure.

Why do you think people need stories in their lives?

Because otherwise they wither inside…I think it’s an essential factor in making us human. Without stories, not only is it hard to make sense of the world, but also of ourselves. It really annoys me when people say things like, ‘Oh, that’s just a story!’ There is no just a story. Of course not all stories are equal and some can be used to bad ends as well—but they are powerful things, never to be underestimated.

What is your greatest magical power as a writer?

Being able somehow to make creatures of paper and ink feel like creatures of flesh and blood: to make strong, vivid characters in a believable world, even when it’s fantasy…I feel so absolutely lucky that I was given this gift…so grateful I can do what I was born to do and help to weave my little corner of the world’s stories.

Which mythic archetype or magical character most resonates with you and why?

I am fascinated by shapeshifters… I am also really interested in ‘halflings’—changelings, people in between worlds, who sometimes don’t fit in and sometimes do—This fascination could have something to do with the fact that as a child growing up in two worlds—a French speaking one at home and an English speaking one at school—I felt a bit like a changeling or a shapeshifter I guess ?

What themes or ideas do you find keep arising in your writing?

Love, betrayal, courage, friendship, creativity…and dangerous choices. Always dangerous choices!

Tag: creativity