Creative Process
Published: 12/15/22 Revised: 8/25/26 - I explain my creative process in a real way. Not the clean version, but the actual process. The writing, the isolation, the routines, the late nights, the drafts, and the years it took to build my voice. This is about respecting the work, taking the craft seriously, and understanding that nothing meaningful comes without time, sacrifice, and patience.
The Creative Process is mad. For me, it was.
I wish I could share a romantic perspective on what the process was like for me.
But it damn near cost me everything… I was one hearing away from losing everything.
Yet it was still amazing… it was the most fun that I’ve ever had with myself.
It wasn’t pretty, though. The process was arduous. The physical toll hit the hardest.
Mentally & spiritually, I experienced nirvana.
Third eye awakened.
woke.
…I wish I could live that way again, but it’s just not realistic.
I later understood that’s what made it so significant… The Creative Process.
It’s the realization that I can never do it the same way again.
I never want to do that again.
But yet I kinda do.
Composing two major pieces of work, in addition to the other literary exercises, was quite the undertaking. I can’t quantify it in hours, but it took a lot of time. It consumed me. The process drove me. It challenged me. And I’ve been living with it ever since.
After completing FreeSense: An Anthology of Sh*t I WROTE. – I need to take a break and spend time alone with myself.
Interestingly, I just started a new job, but I was already missing time alone.
I got bills to pay. Lawd! Do I’ve got bills to pay. So, work it is, Monday through Friday, 9-5. So, until this pays me, I need to prioritize what does, because once you start working, most people will never take the opportunity that I did.
The Creative Process.
For myself, the process is about timing.
I can’t schedule it. I’ve tried, but I end up staring at a blank page. My mind, endlessly wandering.
Everything is there, but I can’t piece it together.
There’s no time away from the work. Only Saturdays and Sundays.
So, I live with it daily until the right time elapses.
Then, I drop everything and hyperfocus until it’s finished.
I knew I would do it one day, but I wasn’t sure when. I couldn’t force perspective. I understood that it would arrive naturally.
I prepared by honing my craft. By learning about the major players while studying the greats. By developing and refining my approach, ultimately – becoming able to conceptualize everything in front of me through a literative-prism.
That meeting. That argument. That conversation. The deception. The hateration in that dancery.
I stopped saying shit, so that I could observe that shit.
Drafting mental narratives.
At times, things weighed heavily on me, and it felt like indigestion, so the creative process became a release. It shed all the weight; figuratively and literally.
Sure, it would’ve been preferable to focus on the creative endeavors that I initially set out to do. However, I overstood it was never going to be realistic to make it plan A.
Moving back home to chase a dream? That was never going to happen.
Working to make ends meet? Not while living in one of the most expensive cities.
I needed to have a big-person job; one that required career progression. But I sought a career that let me work closely with as many different types of people as possible. I didn’t want to specialize in one field; instead, I wanted to be a generalist. I wanted broad experience.
I wanted to gain as much insight as possible into different departments, jobs, and careers to understand the workforce system. Specifically, in my home state. I did that. From a socio-economic standpoint, I covered a lot of ground.
I tell folks all the time, there’s much more to aspire towards than podcasts and streaming. I mean, it’s entertaining for sure – but it’s also hollow. It’s shallow. There are hella influential people in your community. I feel that’s who we should all be streaming. Let’s have a creator stream at a town hall meeting. Chat?
I understood that a literary foundation, while building a professional career, would let me use my skill set to empower society through storytelling.
The work needed to be real. Not based on assumptions about the workforce. Not conjecture about how particular jobs function, but lived experience.
In college, I took several creative writing courses with talented writers. Wordsmiths and abstract thinkers. Literary creatives.
The difference with my work was – it really happened. Or, it really happens.
I didn’t fantasize about the narrative because my life was already that.
The creative challenge was that it couldn’t just be about the workforce. That would bore most people. People don’t want to leave work to watch work unless it’s captivating. Plus, there have already been comedic shows about workplace culture. However, the workforce is just one aspect of society. There’s community – I knew them. What about the streets? – I’m familiar… How about the pipeline from school to the workforce, or school to the streets? My job was literally to get kids into college. So, I’d visit their streets to help get them out. After that, my career progressed to helping them enter the workforce.
How do you think I related and connected with them to do that? Like, they’d just trust a stranger to lecture them about going to college and getting an education… It’s relatability. I spoke their language. I didn’t need to be from their block either. I didn’t have to play up my story to connect with them. Sincerity is felt first, spoken second.
I don’t write fantasy. It ain’t romantic. It’s honest and real. It really happens.
Through my work, I was making the right connections. I was gaining industry intel and insight. Not to mention, I was establishing my experience. Navigating different spaces left me little time to build a social media presence. I didn’t have interest or time to scroll through social media or post content.
Additionally, I had too much professional movement to focus on telling that story creatively. Plus, I couldn’t force the perspective; I just had to wait for it to arrive naturally.
In 2020, it arrived. No, it wasn’t solely the byproduct of a global pandemic, but that certainly contributed. Rather, it was 10 years in the making, from when I considered the start of my career. 2020 represented a professional milestone and an opportunity for self-reflection and to document the journey. I made space for introspection and used my literary foundation and perspective to write my first work.
I did not force it. But I knew when to lean in and commit.
For this process, I didn’t outline anything; I just threw everything at the page. I did it in spurts. Like, five to six hours straight almost every session; literally for hours.
Most of my ideas start with pen & pad, as I prefer to handwrite my first drafts. After that, I’ll transcribe it. I’ll edit, revise, revise, and then revise again. I feel like I’m always in a state of revision; however… Maybe that’s because of the perfectionist in me.
I don’t usually outline or brainstorm because I do it in my head all day, for years. Creative thoughts live with me and follow me all day. Once a concept is sparked in my mind, it stays attached at the hip. I struggle to get it out of my head. It gets harder, especially when I’m balancing a career and professional priorities. I can’t just drop all of the work to chase that thought and create all day. Eventually, it’d be a one-way ticket to unemployment.
So, I gotta stow it for when I get off, and hope that I remember what I was thinking about in the first place.
The creative process, as I stated earlier, is about timing.
In 2020, circumstances & timing allowed me, for two years, the personal space to be alone with myself and create all day.
It was amazing… it was the most fun that I’ve ever had with myself.
The downside can not be understated. The isolation, the disillusionment. The physical toll. Days where you’re so locked in that you forget to eat. I mean, your stomach gives you the signal, but you’re too locked in for nutrition.
Days become weeks, and weeks become months. A year later, you’re wondering why your drawers are sliding off your waist… You are wondering why you’re experiencing rapid heart rates, and you can’t sleep for more than 5 hours
Waking up with creative visions.
Developing a narrative centered around many of the things that I’ve shared throughout this piece required space and separation from others. As I detailed in 333-1, I moved to the heart of the city. An area where most of the people who live here aren’t from here. It was unlike living in a neighborhood where everybody knows each other. Many of the residents are transplants. These aren’t people who I crossed paths with in grade school or at university. These aren’t individuals who I’ve worked with. Unlike other areas in the city where I have personal connections… this location gave me space to avoid being influenced by the community.
Relocation to another state was under consideration, but truthfully, I really just needed some solitude.
Yeah, I lived near the nightlife, so I’d run into familiar faces at a bar, a club, or an event. Not during a weekday evening at the grocery store or at the local gym.
I felt like Invisible Man. Because of my positive reputation, I also felt like I was being put in a box. Expectations that I didn’t feel I could live up to. With my life configured the way it was, I didn’t feel like I was supposed to be there. That at some point, my true colors would show, and the veil would be lifted. That I’m not this mild-mannered, conscious, righteous being. Or that, I’m not just that…
So, I had to find solitude and truly reflect on how I want to present myself, but more importantly, how I want to live the rest of my life. Yes, I am mild-mannered, conscious, righteous, all that. But I’m also other things too… Those experiences are what made me mild-mannered, conscious, and righteous. Most of it’s good, but some of it’s not.
I understood what upward mobility meant because I was ascending. But it got to a point where I stopped seeing my peers in meetings. I stopped seeing people whose background I could relate to. Yeah, I’m showing up for the meetings… but I’m also dealing with gangster shit at the crib.
At a point, I told myself I needed to strip away people’s perceptions and expectations of me. I’m going to give people more of me that wasn’t polished. That I’m going to keep everything that I stand pat on, one-stack… Whether it aligns with the consensus or not.
And I’m going to write using a different tone… I can do the intellect tho… Let me show people the other side.
If climbing the ladder meant that I had to act, think, or speak in a particular manner, it wasn’t my destination.
I just wanted to be privy to what’s going on so I could incorporate it into my literary work. That was the destination.
The first stop: childhood to tricenarian.
Beautiful Trash to FreeSense.
Timing struck. I found physical space, and circumstances provided free time. I also had a literary vision of what I finally wanted to share. The question now became… How would I approach the work?
"There something majestic about late hours in the early morning." - StandPat
While everyone was out working, I was sleeping. When everyone was sleeping, I started working…. Sunset-to-Sunrise.
But the freaks come out at night? That was me as well.
So much creative work. So much inspiration. With all the free time, I found myself perusing different corners of the internet. I started using social media more actively. I started watching YouTubers. I was leaning into trending topics and became privy to the social discourse. I also used my platform to educate and inform. To bring awareness to community matters and recognize influential people in the community. In my opinion, I thought it was entertaining and engaging, but apparently it wasn’t for everyone.
I’d post at like 3 am, or post hella content in succession. On my LinkedIn, I was providing commentary when people were only sharing work anniversaries and graduations. Interestingly, that type of content on the platform has shifted over the years. But I had already been doing that. Now I don’t post at all.
I was critical and provided harsher critiques because I wasn’t trying to win brownie points. I wasn’t trying to go viral. I wasn’t trying to build a following. I wasn’t even around people. Those platforms were my virtual canvas while I was writing Beautiful Trash & FreeSense.
Everybody was a beta reader.
At times, I overshared. My message wasn’t always refined. With Introduction I, I revised it six times. Multiply that by 21 pieces for FreeSense. Now, times 2 with Beautiful Trash. Not even considering the additional works that didn’t make FreeSense or Beautiful Trash.
You must understand, LITERATURE is a different beast than leisure writing. I can write a post in a few minutes. I can write an editorial in about as much time. I’m confident that I can churn out surface-level work if needed. A memoir is a therapy session. Self-help is a collection of platitudes. “Gurus” tryna make a quick buck.
I’m chasing Morrison, Faulkner, Baldwin, Ellison, Steinbeck, Chaucer, even Shakesphere. Those whose work I’ve studied. I’m not talking about books either. I don’t envision writing many books. I’m referring to the screen.
I’m confident that when I get the opportunity, I’ll show out. Call it disillusionment or whatever; that’s what creates and sustains my intrinsic motivation.
Delusion
If you’re like everyone else, how will you create something unique?
People end up doing a different version of the same thing. Regional style has become out of style. Globally, everyone looks the same. People are using the same slang. Going to the same places. Podcasts are having the same conversations. Content creators and streamers are producing the same content. How many balloon-popping shows do we need? 20 v 1, IRLs. Even big-time creators aren’t producing original content; they’re just repackaging it for a new demographic.
The power of one is my guiding principle when it comes to opportunities.
People are getting tired of half-assed work. Cheap laughs… People are yearning for quality programming with substance. I believe so. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking on my behalf.
For the last 15 years, I’ve focused on my career and developing my craft. I haven’t truly sought representation and management. I’ve reached out sporadically, but not enough to take rejection personally. But I think it’s time to fully turn it up.
I have enough samples, and I want my next work to be under an imprint. Throughout this creative process, I enjoyed learning about the publishing intricacies. Such as designing an electronic edition (I learned it’s not just copy & paste). Designing a physical edition (from the cover to interior pages: fonts, gutter space & margins). Cover texture: matte, soft-touch, or glossy; paperback or hardcover. Interior page texture and weight. Registering an ISBN & needing a different one for each edition,
The audio version. You can’t use your voice memo app. Go to a recording studio and work with an audio engineer. Plus, voiceover work is harder than I thought. Most people struggle to read aloud, and the style that I write is definitely not easy. See my sample work at: LITERATURE
You need a platform to promote the work. I’ve had web design experience before this process; I’ve built several webpages and sites over the last ten years. I suppose I could publish work on other public platforms. However, unless there’s financial incentive, this site is comprehensive enough for me to showcase my work.
I’ve spent years learning, developing, and honing my skills. The power of one tells me that an entity will evaluate the comprehensive package and realize what they have in front of them.
Rejection is fine, although I feel bad for those who leave me on read…
It’s the power of one. To realize there’s a diamond in the rough. And it’s not even rough.
I mean, somone found Jokic.
You must play the game before you dictate the rules. (Introduction III)
I had to understand the game before I could start writing about it. I stopped saying shit so I could observe that shit. Consciousness is the ability to think deeply and understand how everything is interconnected. It’s not a conspiracy if you actually experienced it. Third eye awakened.
I don’t care what user-2320de thinks. Put your real name on it.
Learning and experiencing the process in detail changes the conversation. It shapes the questions and the long-term goals.
It’s not about accepting a check and giving up all creative rights. 360 deals are rampant because the artist ends up back at square one, right where they started. Give me a 180-deal. A 360 deal means spiraling into debt after the first project, then having to leave & pay the company back. Ultimately, to learn the independent hustle because the company did everything so the artist could focus on the art. Meanwhile, the art’s plastered across the internet. It went viral, yet what’s to show for it? Likes & retweets.
Understand that you can multitask. It’s called project management. You can focus on the art while still learning the backend process.
As I seek a “180-deal,” it doesn’t mean I intend to play hardball. I simply want good-faith negotiation. I’ve had to control every aspect of this creative process, which is why I realized I can never do it the same way again.
Just like this literary piece, my creative process was even longer. It was mad. Yet it was still amazing… The most fun that I’ve ever had with myself.
I never want to do that again.
Sike.
