A segment from a recent episode of This American Life featured a story about Kristen Finch, a speech therapist whose work with children with Asperger’s syndrome led her to wonder if her husband might have Asperger’s, too. Finch’s husband often struggled with being emotionally distant, being a slave to his routine, and not picking up on social cues. At one point in the story, after being diagnosed (he did have it) and learning about Asperger’s and how to deal with it, Kristen’s husband remarked that “it was as if someone had finally handed me a user’s manual for myself.” I have to say that reading Jonah Lehrer’s new book, Imagine: How Creativity Works, made me feel that, at least in some small way, the same thing had happened to me.

Imagine is about something that has been shrouded in mythology and speculation for centuries: human creativity. Even the most creative among us are frequently unsure of where their ideas come from. They often attribute their moments of insight to some otherworldly source, like a muse or genius which takes hold of them. Lehrer’s premise is that recent studies have helped us to now understand and explain a lot more about how creativity works than most people, even the professionally creative, might think.

As a graphic designer, I have to be creative every day. And yet, despite my familiarity with the process, there have always been certain parts of “being creative” that have always made me uncomfortable. For example, early on in every project when a client would describe their needs to me, there would come a point when I felt like I had NO IDEA what to do and I would get a sinking feeling in my stomach. Of course, the client wasn’t looking for a solution yet. They fully intended to tell me the problem then let me go work on it for a bit. But the initial feeling of uncertainty made me feel awful. This feeling would sometimes last for days. It led at times to feelings of doubt in my mind. “Maybe I’m not cut out for creative work, because I’m sure “truly creative” people don’t feel like this,” I would say to myself. I hoped and hoped that as I got used to doing creative work that this frustrated, no-idea-what-to-do feeling would go away. But it didn’t.

One of the first things Lehrer reveals is that before there can be a breakthrough, there must first be a block. An obstacle. A seemingly insurmountable problem which we wrestle with and lose. Only then will our brain be forced to search for clever alternatives. It’s this shift into a completely new and different thought process that lies at the heart of creativity. And it’s impossible to get there without first being frustrated.

Eureka! In an instant that very same feeling of frustration which before had caused self-doubt and trepidation was shifted, almost magically, to being a good thing and an indicator that what I was doing was not only not bad, but meant that I was on the right track!

And this was only the first chapter. Lehrer goes on to discuss other stigmas of creativity including how to keep creative teams from stagnating, why hot showers and cups of coffee are good for creativity (but not at the same time), and that it’s possible to cultivate creative genius much like we currently train athletes.

With so many industries changing radically everyday, it’s in everyone’s best interest to harness the power of our own creativity. The good news from Mr. Lehrer is that it’s possible for all of us to do so, whether we currently think of ourselves as creative or not. I wore out my highlighter reading Imagine. It’s a book I’ll be reading again and again in the coming years, right up there with Dan Pink’s Drive and Malcolm Galdwell’s Outliers. If you are or have a vested interested in helping other be as creative as possible, Imagine is a must read.

Because your first idea may not be the best.

via 37signals.com

I can’t remember when or where I first stumbled on this video, but it was a couple years ago and I watch it again every few months.

What can presentationists learn from the world of fashion design? A lot actually.

I enjoyed this video of Eva Franco’s creative process if for no other reason than that it gives us a glimpse into the creation of one of her patterns, with nothing but a scanner and a jar full of safety pins. When you create your next presentation, think about how you might create your own graphic elements instead of relying on the ready-made variety. It’s totally unique, and less spendy, too.

via the Uppercase Blog

I get scared every time I get a new project to work on.

No matter how many projects I’ve done before. No matter how confident I am that I can do the work. Every single time I’ve done anything creative, I get panicky. And stressed. And feel like quitting before I even get started. Just like Han in the trash compactor on the Death Star, I have a bad feeling about this.

I get scared because I have no idea what I’m going to do. As I sit listening to the person I’m working with describe their problem or presentation idea or whatever, some little voice inside me thinks I ought to be able to spit out a really great, well-developed idea as soon as they stop speaking. They’ve come to me because I have good ideas. Now’s the time I better produce them, and by the bushel.

I know in my head that no creative project works this way. I know that once I dig in and start brainstorming that I’ll go through lots of bad ideas, and iterations, and revisions before I finally hit on an idea that’s truly a good solution. But despite this knowledge, my stomach still ties itself in knots every time I start a new project. Every time.

I guess learning to deal with that feeling is part of getting good at being creative. I don’t like it any more now than the first time I felt it, but I accept it, let it wash over me for a few seconds, then push past it and get to work. I don’t let it stop me from starting anymore. And I think that’s the first step.

Also, I’m kind of leery now of any projects I start that don’t cause me to feel this way at first. Usually a lack of that feeling means that I’ve done something like this before and I’m not challenging myself enough. It’s comfortable, and while that might feel nice, it also means I’m not gonna learn anything new on this one. It’s an indicator that I’m spinning my wheels. So in that sense, that terrible feeling is kind of like a compass. When I hear about a project and start to get that sinking feeling I know that’s what I need to be doing. I know it sounds funny but sometimes I get excited about a project just because of how scared it makes me.

I should also mention that I’ve never been unable to figure out a solution to any of the problems or projects that seemed so daunting and insurmountable at first. Eventually I can work through them. I guess my head just makes them seem much, much worse than they actually are. That’s another good reason to just push through the fear and get to work.

How about you? Do you ever feel this way?