creative space.

shared Elizabeth Gilbert

Dear Ones:

I’ve been hiding away in my tiny writing room for most of this spring, working on my new novel.

I love this room, which is just the right size for me — only a little bit bigger than my beloved old desk. (In fact, I built the room around the desk, so that it can never be removed. Kind of like Odysseus’s bed.)

In the boxes are thousands of index cards, filled with research for my book — all about the theater world in New York City in the 1940s. Somewhere within those boxes, there is a story. My job is to find it and tell it.

There on the right is my favorite lamp, which looks like a sail. (It reminds me to be free.)

There, beneath the lamp, is the emblem from my first car — a 1966 Plymouth Fury II, that I bought for 600 dollars and drove all the way to Wyoming by myself when I was 23 years old. (It reminds me to be brave.)

Also, there’s a plant. (It reminds me to be alive.)

Also, there’s a robin’s egg. (It reminds me to be vulnerable.)

The painting on the top is by an Indonesian artist named Bramasto. 

It came from Bali long, long ago. The painting on the bottom is by an American artist named Julia Marchand (juliamarchandart.com).
 I just got it this week. I feel like the lion and the woman have the same expression on their faces. They are thoughtful huntresses, both of them. Powerful female energy. Focus and silence and beauty.

The spaces that we make for ourselves in which to be quiet and creative MATTER. They don’t have to be big rooms. It can be just a little corner, like this room. But the space should be clean, and everything in that space should remind you of who you are. There should be nothing in that space that doesn’t bring your senses to life.

I will be staring at that wall, and at these boxes of notes, and at those paintings, until my work is done. There’s nowhere else I could be right now. I’m spending a lot of time by myself, and it’s necessary. But I’m not alone — my work is with me.

What I want to say is this: Whatever your life brings to you, respond with creation. If you are celebrating, create. If you are grieving, create. Only create. Always create. Constant creative response. This is the engine of resilience.

Onward, LG