Microdosing creativity

A voice note letter from the park

Lately, I haven't had time to create much, let alone finish a thought. A few months ago I had a child, my first, and I've literally had my hands full – with diapers, muslin cloths, the bebé himself. And I never thought there'd be so many appointments and papers to fill out.

Pair that with a baby who thankfully sleeps very well at night but wants to eat every hour during the day, and there isn't a lot of time left for me to sit down and write these days. But between burping and sorting through hand-me-down onesies, there are pockets.

Don't wait until you have time

For all of the above, I've been thinking a lot about constraints lately. Because my life now is very much ruled by a rather unpredictable little dictator, it's really hard to get anything done that requires concentration, going somewhere, any type of setup, or just two consecutive thoughts.

But I don't think that's all bad, because it's lowered the bar.

I've had periods in my life where I've been extremely tight on time and resources, and others where I've had more or less unlimited possibility to bask in creative pursuits.

And believe it or not, I've never felt so bad about making music as I did when I had my own studio full time, and spent most of it sitting there just looking at the screen, adjusting my gear, or replaying old demos for the hundredth time listening for something I'd feel inspired to work on.

These days are different. Caring for my child isn't something I can choose not to do, that work is real, intense, and mostly out of my control. But I can choose what I do with the time in between. I can decide that it's less important to vacuum than it is for me to write this (and I really really hate to walk on crumbs). I can decide to play one song on my guitar. I am writing this text based on voice notes I recorded while stroller walking in the park, not knowing if I'll be able to continue for another minute or an hour.

It's still worth it.

I've actually played more guitar now than I have in a long time. Because before, one song didn't feel like real practise, and therefore wasn't worth doing. Now I only have 5 minutes, but that's better than nothing, and I'm really enjoying it. Knowing I can't play for long also means I don't have time to worry about whether I'm good enough, doing enough, achieving enough. I know I don't have time to do something great, so I don't even try. For a perfectionist like me, that's quite liberating.

How low can you set the bar?

Even when life is impossibly busy, there can be space to do something if you make it small enough.

I know I'm not alone in scrolling an unhealthy amount of time every day, a lot of it in places where we feel like we're just filling time that isn't usable for "proper" things anyway. Commuting, waiting in line, pooping.

But what if you wrote a note instead? Not even morning pages, but one morning sentence?

Do it small, do it badly, do it secretly. And pat yourself on the back!

I leave my guitar out so there's zero friction between me and playing it. My writing software is always open. Yoga mat permanently on the floor (to my partner's despair). Yesterday I did one singular dead bug on it.

Making time is a topic in itself, so without changing a thing – what can you do within the constraints that you have?

Nora Mihle Asklund is the writer, musician and ex-Patreon lead behind Break Something Studio – a kitchen party on the internet for people who make stuff. She helps creators stay weird, brave and stubborn enough to keep going. Find more of her thoughts and experiments at breaksomething.studio or on Instagram @breaksomethingstudio.