Inside of me, there is an ocean of creativity in which I swim, dive, or sail whenever I want to tell a story or make A Thing Where There Was Not A Thing Before. When the tide is up, getting into that ocean is as easy as taking a couple of steps. When the tide is out, I have to walk across the biggest, stinkiest, muck-covered mud flat you can imagine. I can do it, because I am awesome, but by the time I get to the water’s edge, I’m so tired and drained, I don’t have much energy left to do whatever I went there for in the first place. And whatever I do make usually stinks a little bit.
I used to believe that I could force the tide to come in, could pull it in all on my own, by reading or listening to music or consuming inspirational entertainment. This was a profound misunderstanding of “if you don’t have time to read, you don’t have time to write” that took me years and way too many demoralizing and unproductive walks across that mud flat to correct.
You all know this already: the tide moves on its own. It’s too busy enjoying its dance with the Moon to care about humans. It does not even notice that we exist. Nothing I did affected it, and even though I think I knew that, I didn’t want to admit that I was overwhelming myself as a consumer, so I’d feel productive until it came in, right on its own schedule, and I could go back to being a creator and feeling productive.
All too often, I found myself standing on the shore, toes touching the water, entirely too exhausted to get in. And before I knew it, the tide was headed back out to sea. If I caught any of it at all, I still had to slog through a lot of stinky mud on my way back.
I became aware of this artistic tide about a year ago. And ever since, I have done my best to allow (encourage) myself to rest when the tide is out. The resting is what matters. For me, Rest looks like a lot of different things. I watch a lot of movies, or none at all. I catch up on entire seasons of tv shows, revisit old favorites. I play video games. I start a lot of books, and finish some of them. I go on long walks alone and with Anne. I spend entire days doing as close to nothing as possible. I encourage myself to get bored, to let my mind wander and sketch out something I may want to go looking for when the tide comes back in. And I do it all without looking at the calendar, at the clock, or any tide charts (which don’t exist in this metaphor, because if they did it would collapse and I just need you to let me have this.)
The last time the tide was in, I made the most of it. I had a lot of fun. I don’t think I even got out of the water for more than a few hours at a time for weeks. I wrote a cyberpunk short story about my friend’s Crocs turning him into a zombie, a Wesley Crusher story for the Star Trek comic, a whole bunch of stuff that’s not ready for publication, some pretty good blog posts. It was awesome, and though I was sad to watch it go, I was ready to get out and dry off when it left. I was ready to rest, looking forward to it, to be honest.
But the tide has been out for a lot longer than I can remember it being recently, and I’ve been pining for it. I’ve taken a few steps into the mud a little bit, found a few puddles, and what I’ve written and created there has been fine. I bet you didn’t even notice it was a little stinky. But the ocean is still far away. It’s not my favourite thing (hi Canada. I love you and I’m sorry about all this bullshit) but I guess I must have matured as an artist, or I feel more comfortable with myself as an artist, (and maybe that’s the exact same thing, resulting in a version of myself who is kinder and more patient with me than I used to be) because I fully accept that the tide is not mine to influence, let alone control. It’s okay to rest, so I’m ready when it gets here.
Oh hey. I just looked up, noticed that I’ve wandered way out into the mud, and I’m suddenly tired and stinky. But I’ve come this far from the beach so I could share how happy I am that last week, I thought that maybe I felt the wind shift, or the pressure change, the way it does when the tide comes in. And just before I wrote this paragraph, I think I glimpsed a thin, fiery shimmer on the horizon.
I appreciate you coming with me on this walk. Sorry about the mud. It washes out.
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I so want to hear your version of “Wil Wheaton: Croc Hunter!” Scalzi read us his at a book signing last year.
Came here to say the same thing. Scalzi’s story was awesome and I am imagining Wil’s story was just as awesome 🙂
You’re awesome Wil. I enjoy everything you share, a I know I’m not alone.
Take as much time as the tide needs to return. We’ll be here waiting!
What a perfect metaphor for how artistic creation ebbs and flows. You have such a lovely way with words. Thanks for sharing.
Glad to be walking in the mud with you, and should it be needed, I’ll hold your hand while we stare hopefully at that horizon.
Man I relate SO hard to this. Thank you
Wil thank you for saying this out loud. I feel exactly the same way and was only recently starting to realize it (but I was thinking of it more like a manic/depressive cycle, tbh — I like your metaphor better).
Also is it weird that when I read your blog posts in my head I hear your voice saying the words? I can’t think of another person where that’s true except for my own writing.
You’re not the first person to tell me that you hear my blog posts in my voice, so it’s not weird at all. I honestly think it’s really great that I do so much narrative work, that it can even be a thing.
SO highly relatable! That Muse, She comes and goes as She wills.
The tide going in and out is a great visual image for creativity. Thank you for that.
I can’t tell you how awesome this metaphor is! I hope it’s OK to borrow it (for therapeutic purposes – or, given the content of the metaphor, for therapeutic porpoises LOL).
Not being the creative type at all, and I mean AT ALL lol I couldn’t help but notice the apology to Canada during your blog. Do you think this may be what is causing the “Tide” to stay out? And with that being said, could there be a way to maybe take advantage off the state of everything now to bring the tide back in? Maybe a story about a post war Canada and US, or maybe something along the lines of a more advanced race finally stepping in and “Fixing” the situation. Like I said I am not the creative type, and if this gave you any ideas they are 100% yours, I would be just happy if I was able to help. 🙂
When you’re relaxing from your creative efforts, what kind of music do you listen to (if any)? Do you ever listen to classical music of any kind? (Personally, I like to listen to classical organ; you’d be surprised how relaxing some organ selections can be. (Virgil Fox’s recordings, for instance; they covered a wide variety of styles and moods.) In any event, please don’t limit yourself to just one type of music–you’ll be cheating yourself if you do! Who knows–listening to one of Fox’s recordings might actually help to inspire your writing! Take care!
Thank you for this. I think it fits random life as well.
To each thing there is a season, ESPECIALLY creativity. Also, Canada loves you back and does not in the least hold you personally responsible.
Much of the water in Canada is still cold to walk in but you can find many who do year round.
What’s a little mud bergen friends? virtual hug
Tangentially related to the tide, author Diana Gabaldon refers to the times when the tide is out as the time needed “to fill the well” 🤗
This was the most loveliest of walks I’ve been on in a long time. Thanks for taking us along with you.
I love your writing so much, this was beautiful.
Thank you for this. I needed this perspective because I have been absolutely STRUGGLING to do the creative things I want and feel that I need to do, and making a lot of excuses and flimsy rationalizations for what I need to do to get there. I’ve just been in that muddy portion A LOT, as of late, and I’ve not been enjoying it at all and finding no puddles to work with.
Exactly this. I haven’t seen it like this, but I have felt it in that I sometimes knit (my creative outlet) like a crazy person and sometimes (like now) knit nothing. Nada. I don’t even want to buy yarn (I always want to buy yarn) or organize the yarn that I have. So obviously my tide is way out there and I should just relax in the knowledge that it will come back and there is no rushing it. Thank you Wil for this! <3
Oof, yes! It’s important to remember that there are things you can do to support the creative as well as resting if you feel you must do SOMEthing. All the practical stuff of life. It will leave you freer to enjoy the tide when it comes in, so your taxes are done, the pet has been to the vet, and you can create.
I’ve heard or read somewhere that boredom fuels creativity.
As always, thanks for sharing Wil! I enjoyed the walk and didnt even notice the mud.
Allowing the creative mind to get bored is so important. That’s when things wake up and start happening!
We love you too, bub.
Signed, Canada
Love this!
Author Diana Gabaldon used to call the time when the tide is out, time for “filling the well”. Like leaving land fallow <3
What a creative and amazing take on this subject. I will experiment with this philosophy instead of beating myself up for not attempting to be busy or productive all the time. Thanks!
The mud is how you know you’ve been to the interesting places 😉
<3
Damn Wil, that was just straight up beautiful. Thank you for that.
For many years, I waded through the ick-i-ness kicked up by Facebook to find the words that you share, often starting my day with you as a reminder that humans are complicated and messy and beautiful. When the ick-i-ness of Facebook became too much, I followed you here…where your words are still as brilliant as ever, but somehow felt different…as I consumed them here. ‘Blogging to an Ocean’ made me realize that here…in a space you created and nourish…the things you share have a joy and a power that was constrained by the algorithms (and Zuck-fuckery). Maybe it’s because I live on an island surrounded by the Atlantic Ocean and all her glory and beauty, I needed an ocean metaphor to figure it out. Thank you for this!
Not to sully the moment of your exceptional post, but my first thought was that if the moon turned to cheese, the tides would shift… LOVED the new Scalzi book! Thank you for narrating it!
An excellent analogy! I’ve long recognized the “I need to get bored” aspect before tackling tedious projects. I need to “need a break” from the things that normally inspire or entertain me so that I’m not distracted when I finally tackle some big chore that I keep putting off. Whether that’s general human nature or a symptom of neurodivergence, I do not know, but it’s always been there for me. And it’s nice to hear that other people can recognize that as well.
I’ve been in the brack since a major life event- about 15 years ago now. And then more major life events kept happening, and now once in awhile, I produce something I’m truly fond of but few will ever see. And while I had a nice little group of people who liked my work, they’re all long gone. And, like, do I even want to be the person I was 15, 20 years ago? There’s a whole GenXness to this too, but I’d need more coffee to get into that.
Hi Wil, I get your posts in my e-mail. It has only been a month (or two??) that I found you after so many years. We get lost in our own worlds and stuff, but this year I’ve been on the mud flats for what seems like forever and I guess that is what allowed me to have time to find you. I’m so thankful for your posts and your wonderful podcast that allows me to get some fresh clear air out here on the flats. I’m not sure when the tide is coming back in for me and I’ll finally feel useful and productive again, but right now, thanks so much for your beautiful (and NOT stinky) work.
@Wil, as with several others, I heard Scalzi’s side of the Crocs short story duel at a reading a while ago, and would enjoy seeing your version as well.
You know, I really appreciate you managing to bring some shape to something I have felt for a long time, but did not know how to explain.
For me, my creative tides have sometimes felt more like seasons/spells, and I recently came out of a looooong dry spell. But yeah that power—that energy to create—definitely waxes and wanes.
Thank you for your words and your honest nature.
Canada loves you back, Wil <3 As an artist with bipolar disorder, I’ve had to come to terms with a similar cycle in my creative life (and life in general). Learning to forgive myself for being “unproductive” was a big one, but another was learning to manage my “productive” time better, treating it almost like a precious and finite currency that I have to invest wisely. The “down” times are a lot easier to tolerate when I know I spent my last batch of “up” time creating something awesome that I can be proud of. It’s comforting, and quite validating, and also inspiring to hear about your own struggles and successes. As always, thank you for sharing.
The beauty of being an artist is that art is subjective. So even if you create something that is a little stinky- there’s someone, somewhere, out there who will love it. But the tricky thing about art is that you can’t force it. And that’s the beauty of art- it comes when it wants to and will have an impact on everyone differently.
Beautiful.
My tide has been out so Iong, I’m afraid it will never come back in.
There’s definitely a tension between “Writers write.” and “If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have time to write.” I suspect the real answer is something like: Hone your skills on puddles so you can make the best of the tide when it really comes in. And you seem to be doing so! So yay you!
Thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts and stories and all of your creations. I am enjoying watching your journey!
I love the mud analogy. I do spend way too much time wishing I could control the tide. Thanks for slipping in the Canada comment, I also keep apologizing to everyone for the US right now.
Omg, this makes so much sense to me. I find myself to be a strange artist. Lots of people tell me they use art to decompress, or art is their happy place, but it’s different for me. I found this out during the pandemic and after I lost on my most important people. There was no art in me. The tide was so far out it was non existent. I was stuck in a swamp. I use my happy feelings in my art, I don’t gain happy feelings while doing it. I might get some if the end result is good, but we artists know that doesn’t always happen!! Well anyway, thanks for helping this visual artist put her feelings into words. 🥰
A great deal of eloquence and creativity in a post about the ebb of eloquence and creativity. You’re going kind of meta there… 🙂
I’ve always used the image of a fallow field, needing a season or two off to build up its nutrients before I can sow the next round of crops, but I LOVE your tide analogy. I’m also stuck in the mud right now. I appreciate the reminder that I can’t force the tide in, and that it’s OK to rest while I wait for it.
Thanks for sharing this. I get Letters of Note in my inbox each week and the one I got the other day seems appropriate. I hope you dig it: https://news.lettersofnote.com/p/do-13c?r=2comt&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=false
My relationship with the creative tide is a little different. If I wait for the tide to come in, I often miss it entirely. I’ve realized that I need to be out working on that beach — high tide, low tide or no tide — to be there and ready for when the tide does eventually come in. Creating this way is tiring, and (as you say) stinky. But for me, getting muddy and tired is the only way that works.
It’s fascinating how many different ways there’s are to engage with the creative.
Thank you for bringing us along on this walk. I found that I needed it more than I knew I did.
Hi Wil, long time lurker/reader first time commenter – just popping in from Canada to say we love you too and your blog posts are always a highlight in my feed. I’m watching TNG with my kids (14 and 8) for the first time and boy is that fun.
I did not write anything creative for years and this year set a goal of five minutes per day. Which has worked and now I have a habit I’m building on again, but I couldn’t have even started with the five minutes if I hadn’t acknowledged the burnout that was crippling me in 2024 and taken steps to fix that first. When the tide is out, it’s really out.
Wow, this helped!!! What a great piece of writing art. Definitely hit home for me. I need to just sit back enjoy my life, my wife and my daughter.