The Myth about Creativity

One of the most important lessons I've learned from circus arts is you've got to train really, really hard to make something hard look really, really easy.

It's not just about learning the technical, athletic skills. It's about being able to perform said skills without showing any effort or pain in your face (unless that's part of your delivery). It's about developing acts that effectively take your audience on a particular journey. It's about constantly monitoring potential safety hazards without letting the audience worry for your actual safety. It's about having ease in improvisation during those moments in which things aren't going as planned. 

Let me be blunt for a moment: it's work.

As someone who straddles business and the arts (thank god I stretch), I often engage in conversations about creativity. When talking about circus arts, in particular, there seems to be this myth floating around that we all just woke up like this. 

Alright folks, I'd like to take this opportunity to lift the metaphorical curtain...

The funniest actors and most out-of-the-box circus performers I know are also the hardest workers.

If you scan through research on creativity, you'll quickly find that it can't be contributed to genetic factors alone. Certainly there are some people who are more inclined towards divergent thinking. Yet, artistic and creative work often takes an incredible amount of repetitive practice.

I spent a lot of my life feeling terribly confused when people referred to me as creative. Why? Because I knew how much time and effort my work was taking me. Like many people, I believed that it must be easier for "true creatives." However, the more I've connected with other artists, the more I know this just isn't true.

One of my most creative friends in circus told me she wrote more than 200 ready-to-go acts (with costumes, music, and choreography) over the course of one year. She trains her "creativity muscle" through repetition- both in terms of act development and general creative writing exercises. Of course, her audiences don't know that, and there's no need for her to explain: Her job is to transport them into a different world for a few minutes of their lives, and that involves making her creative work look incredibly easy.

I've been especially drawn to public speaking recently, and I feel honored to have received feedback such as:

"I don't know how you stayed so engaging when you couldn't even see the attendees on our platform."

(Working under stage lights)

"I'm shocked you got the attendees to enter comments into the chat. They usually never write anything."

(Incorporating their comments into jokes and callbacks) 

"I can't believe you could pivot your talk just based on our conversation."

(Childhood improv classes for the win- thanks, Ma!) 

As a performer, I know exactly where these creative abilities come from: years and years and years of repetitive practice.

And the funny thing about repetitive practice is... you have to keep doing it.

As I've been honing in on succinctness and humor in public speaking, I've been training in stand-up comedy with The Second City. I'm doing a 21-hour live virtual course, which involves generating a new set each week for seven weeks.

While I was getting ready to test some material last night at a local open mic, it occurred to me that my "professional development" might look a little bit different than others.'

The fact is none of my clients have to know what goes on behind the scenes or even understand why I do what I do... Their participants just need to go on a journey, and that involves making my creative work look incredibly easy.