Some people give me too much credit for being a writer, claiming I possess a level of Creativity that they aspire to. What most people do not realize is that blessed state exhibits itself in people in forms other than the Arts.
Sure, it’s easy to look upon a painter or sculptor, a musician or actor, and proclaim their Creativity. But the landscape architect and pastry chef, the interior designer and graphic artist, fall within that realm. Even the person who decorates their home or plants a vegetable or flower garden is imbued with Creativity.
We place too much importance on the glamorous aspects without focusing in on what it really is. To me, being creative is largely looking at possibilities that others do not see. It is recognizing what can be, selecting the appropriate tools, and committing a bold act of transformation.
Bringing forth something special that was not there prior is the utmost act of Creativity. Further, we have a tendency to believe that something must be permanent in order for that act to be considered special. I guarantee you the young child who builds a phenomenal snowman, with sticks for arms and stones for eyes and a carrot for a nose, will proudly show his parents and not be overly dismayed when the spring rolls around and the snow melts.
I have long stopped considering my place in the future or anything resembling a legacy. When I write, I hope merely to entertain. The feeling I get from that is deeper and more profound than anything I know of on this Earth.