Elizabeth Gilbert: The Professor McGonagall of Creativity
Remember when TED Talks were a thing?
I remember High School Camilo patting himself on the back: “I just learned about the Paradox of Choice, and now I’m going to watch Sir Ken Robinson talk about the fallacies of modern education. I’m definitely going places.”
Out of all the TED Talks in this era of my life, one stood out above others. It stands tall like a tree, but back in 2009 it was simply a seed spreading its roots firmly into my psyche.
That seed? Your elusive creative genius by Elizabeth Gilbert.
I must have watched this talk a dozen times over the next few years. Elizabeth shared two key ideas, which are constant themes in her work and have influenced me greatly. First, she challenged the notion that good art must come from suffering. In her talk she quipped:
“What is it specifically about creative ventures that seem to make us really nervous about each other’s mental health in a way that other careers kind of don’t do, you know?”
She refuses that notion. “I think it’s better if we encourage our great creative minds to live.”
The second key idea is her philosophy on creativity. Elizabeth tells us that creativity is of divine nature. It is not within you.
Wait, what? You mean WE are not creative, Liz?
She would probably nod excitedly and say “that’s right!” She thinks this notion of creativity being in us was “a huge error” and too much responsibility on something as complex and fragile as a human. “It’s like asking somebody to swallow the sun.” Damn.
She uses the example of poet Ruth Stone, and the story of her running home when genius visited her with a poem. Rushing to the page to capture this divine gift. Sometimes she caught it, sometimes she would catch only the tail, sometimes she missed it altogether.
This insight, the mystical nature of creativity, and its relationship to us, inspired her to write Big Magic. This book is canonical reading for any creator.
In Big Magic, she defines creativity as “a force of enchantment” and the creative process as “both magical and magic”. In her mind, ideas are an energetic life-form that lives all around us in a separate realm. The only way they can transverse into our world is “through collaboration with a human partner.”
Elizabeth thus teaches us that the goal is not to be the most creative, but rather to become the best partner to ideas that you can be. She teaches us how to harness this magic both through her fiction writing, and her reflections on the creative process. That’s why I believe she’s the Professor Mcgonagall of creativity. A sorceress that has mastered the magic of creativity and wants us to do the same.
How do you become the best partner to ideas? By unlearning perfectionism, having conversations with fear, and loving our work.
The creator persists because they are called to create. We will never live in a world of no constraints. No amount of money and time can make you constraint-free; if it were the case, then the world’s richest would be the “most imaginative, generative, and original thinkers,” she writes.
But what Elizabeth encourages us to consider is that the elements for creativity are universal: “Courage, enchantment, permission, persistence, trust.” Creativity can flourish and has flourished despite constraints. To persist, we must remember the mantra that Elizabeth’s Mother passed down to her, and that she kindly shares with us: “Done is better than good.” If that last sentence made you grimace, then perfectionism is getting in the way of persistence.
Perfectionism “has killed more art projects than any dictatorship.” A disarming weapon that is often presented as a virtue, but does nothing more than stifle us. In a powerful conversation with Julia Cameron (The Dumbledore of Creativity), she has the following reflection on perfectionism:
“Once I discovered that perfectionism really truly is fear in high heels and a mink coat pretending to be fancy and you take it down to its base root and all it is is fear in disguise, so as soon as I found that out, that was a big piece of information to know, that what I was hearing was not a quest for excellence…it was borne of terror that I’d never be enough”
It’s all fear in disguise. Perfectionism, or saying “I don’t have time to create.” All of it. Fear has the keys to a costume shop and never ceases to try on new costumes. Yet, Elizabeth also provides a powerful way to engage with our fears:
“I recognize [my fear] to be the youngest part of me, so I speak to it very lovingly...when I feel fear I let fear have a voice.” After she gives fear the space to vent, she brings “wisdom in” to rationalize the fear and move past it.
Finally, core to her ideas on the creative process and conquering both the fears and preconceived notions that come with creative work is the encouragement to fall in love with our work. In Big Magic she writes:
“Let yourself fall in love with your creativity like that and see what happens. Stop treating your creativity like it’s a tired, old, unhappy marriage (a grind, a drag) and start regarding it with the fresh eyes of a passionate lover.”
I’ve written in the past about my avoidance of idolization. Yet, Elizabeth Gilbert comes close. She helped me destroy the myth of the suffering artist, taught me that genius is a visitor, not a tenant, and that your creative process is all that you have—and all that you need.
She has taught me that I can unlock my magic. The trusted mentor that is part of the hero’s journey we all traverse. May we continue to learn from her and release our Big Magic.
