Creativity is the Antidote to Our Productivity Obsession

This is an edited extract from Madeleine Dore’s new book I Didn’t Do the Thing Today. Join Madeleine on her CreativeMornings FieldTrip on Navigating Productivity Guilt on February 15!

^{(Photography credit Giulia Giannini McGauran.)}

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When we conflate productivity with worthiness, what we do is never enough. We can always do more, and there is always more to do. There’s the laundry thing, the catch-up thing, the replying to a text thing, the grocery shopping thing, the cooking thing, the cleaning thing, the creative thing, the exercise thing, the work thing, the medical thing, the thing we ought to do, the thing we don’t want to do, the thing we’ve put off despite it being the one important thing.

With this pile of undone things often comes an undercurrent of guilt, anxiety or shame. Instead of being alive to the variances of what is done in a day—sometimes a little, sometimes a lot—we spiral in a slew of ‘if onlys’: if only I were more productive, if only I were more efficient, if only I were better, if only I were more like that person … then I could do it right, do enough, be enough.

If our days have become crowded containers for what we did or did not do, perhaps we do not need to pursue more ways to be productive, but rather shake up the contents. I’ve had too many days to count that have been flattened by productivity guilt. They follow a pattern: there is the thing I should be doing, but for whatever reason I find myself not doing the thing at this time, so instead I don’t do anything. Instead of turning my attention to something else that can be done, the day seems to evaporate as I sit, stifled by the taunt, I didn’t do the thing today, I didn’t do the thing today. Wouldn’t it be more satisfying to at least enjoy the day instead of washing it away with guilt?

How productivity narrows and creativity expands

Productivity is too narrow a lens for our days. It flattens the day to a plan, an order, an outcome. When the day takes a different shape, we find ourselves coiled in a spiral, narrowing in on ourselves and our shortcomings.

Productivity tells us to live sequentially, but our days rarely unfold in perfect order. Not only does each day vary, but we vary within them. We are constantly shifting, creating and re-creating parts of ourselves. I have come to see the value in being more flexible with the order and shape of things: I can see what I have done, or what I can do differently, or what can still be done later. I can find ways to expand my day beyond a certain kind of doing and define my own process.

If productivity narrows our days, creativity expands them. Creativity doesn’t follow a plan, but has its own ebb and flow. Instead of confining a day to doing, it enlivens us to the ways we can do it differently.

Creativity can be the antidote to the anxiety, guilt and shame we can encounter because it responds to what arises in our day rather than prescribes it. The creative process itself reflects this. In his book The Art of Thought, British psychologist Graham Wallas outlined the four stages of the creative process. There’s the preparation stage, where we gather inspiration and research; the incubation stage, where we step away and allow connections to simmer; the illumination stage, where a solution often spontaneously arrives in an ‘aha’ moment; and the verification stage, where we take necessary action and do the thing.

There’s no checkbox for the creative process, but rather a constant oscillation among these various stages—and arguably many others. In this non-linear cycle of gathering, stepping away, arriving and doing, we can take away our self-judgement about where we are at and allow for a natural ebb and flow. Instead of rushing to the part when we are ‘done’ or discarding fragments of our day just because there isn’t a clear link to output, creativity can help us embrace what is not yet done. In place of the guilt, anxiety or shame we might feel when we didn’t do the thing, we have a more malleable, flexible and open guide for our days.

The creative process as a lens

With the creative process in mind, we can listen to the call of what needs to be done during the different phases, irrespective of whether the thing we need to do is considered creative or not. This allows us to cultivate curiosity as we gather, to be comfortable with uncertainty as we step away, to be patient as we await a solution, and to show up when there is something that must be done. Even if we’re not doing the thing we’re meant to be doing, this doesn’t mean we’re not doing the important work of preparing to do the thing.

In this we can see the importance of getting away from the desk and into the world. Where a productivity lens may mean that waiting in line at a supermarket looks like time spent inefficiently, a creativity lens can reveal the importance of cultivating patience, tolerance and curiosity in all the in-between moments of our days.

Often a solution can’t be rushed or planned for; instead, the best ideas and connections may catch us by surprise. When we are stuck on a thing, instead of spiralling we can give ourselves permission to turn to something else instead.

We can see that doing the thing is just one part of the process—and it often follows its own timeline. There will be times when we want to rush to do the thing as if it’s a new romance, and times when we are going to fall out of love and perhaps even hate the thing. There is always a part in the creative process when we wish to give up entirely—but that part is integral if we want to create something worthwhile. It’s only by tumbling through this love and this hate of a thing that we can engage with all its parts and transform it into something new.

Living creatively, then, means to live flexibly and openly, not sequentially. It means embracing creative tension because it’s the very thing that makes the orchestra so captivating —varying notes, voices, sounds. It means being creative with all that we encounter, including our stumbles.

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