The creative path is never straight as an arrow.
Most people understand this instinctively. They’re prepared to wind back and forth on their creative journeys. Maybe even hit a dead end or two.
But do you realise that there’s another stage after you’ve got as far out as you can on this bold exploration into uncharted territory?
The most important part is when you turn around 180 degrees, retrace your steps completely, and come right back to where you started.
It’s like heading out on a hunting expedition in prehistoric times. The job’s not done until you bring the kill back to share it with the tribe.
You start with the spark of an idea. A small, simple seed.
Often this is no more than a tiny fleeting glimpse of possibility. Just like that hunter hearing a rustle in the bushes. Or spotting signs that an animal passed this way recently.
At this stage you have no idea what the idea is. Whether it’s a mouthwatering meal or totally inedible. Whether you’ll be able to catch up with it. Or, if you do, whether you’ll be able to wrestle it to the ground or not.
But you’ve got to set out. Otherwise there’s no way to find out.
So you head off in pursuit of this idea. You look for signs it’s passed this way. And for indications of exactly what it is.
This is when you’re fleshing out the idea. Adding new angles to how you think about it.
You’re also connecting it to other things. What other ideas belong with it? Where do things reinforce it? Where might they contradict it?
Before you’re aware of it, you’re collecting a whole bundle of extra thoughts. Some will come from deliberate concentration on the topic. Others will bubble up from your unconscious naturally over days and weeks.
You realize the idea can go in lots of different directions. It gathers extra nuances. The whole thing spirals deeper and deeper into glorious but confusing complexity.
Now you have a huge melting pot of loosely-connected raw materials to draw on. But that’s not enough. There are still two further stages before you can have something you can share with the tribe.
So far you’ve picked up all the clues. Tracked the beast down and brought it to bay.
But can you actually make the kill?
For the creative act, this means taking irreversible decisions.
Sifting through all your raw materials. Deciding which actually belong and which need to be discarded. Which bits are essential parts of “the idea”. And which are just getting in the way.
If you can get through this stage then you’ve brought the quarry down at last. It’s lying there out on the savanna — but it’s still not useful to anyone but yourself.
You’re there. You’re able to cook and eat the meat.
But everyone else is in a different place to you. For them to get any use out of it, you’ve got to bring it to somewhere they can access.
This is about the journey back home.
In our prehistoric example it’s about a hunter dragging a carcass back for people to share. And it might be about preserving the meat in some way so it doesn’t spoil before people can eat it.
In our metaphorical creative version, it’s about expressing the idea in a way that’s accessible for others to understand.
You see, in this journey outwards from the initial spark of your idea you’ve come up with so much content that it’s hard to digest.
You can manage it because you’ve been living with the idea this whole time. But everyone else will be coming to it completely new — with none of that “time in flight” that allows them to appreciate everything that’s there.
You’ve gone from a simple idea to a necessary form of complexity. You’ve added in all the nuances and details and “what ifs” and “no buts” that need to be understood in order to grasp the full power of the idea.
But that leaves you with an indigestible mess.
If you want others to be able to consume your idea-y goodness then you need to boil it down to something simple and concise again.
To go through that rich, messy complexity in the middle. Where you’ve appreciated all the insights and nuances that you’ve gained along the way… And then reach a simple container on the far side — something that manages to retain the insights and nuances rather than obscure or ignore them.
That’s hard work. Frustrating work.
It takes a long time. There will probably be many missteps and dead ends along the way.
But it’s what’s required for you to share the fruits of your labour. To share your “kill” with the tribe.
This is how you bring your work back home so that everyone can benefit. Rather than it being just you in isolated splendour who gets the wisdom of what you’ve discovered (or the art you’ve created).