Foundations for Creative Practice
When I was a kid and people learned that my parents were martial arts teachers, they’d ask me the same questions. First: Can you kick my butt? Then: Can you teach me some moves? After some prodding, I’d reluctantly agree to show them a few moves: horse stance or punches or the beginning of a simple routine. “No, show me the cool stuff,” they’d say, lifting up both arms and a knee in the classic Karate Kid pose—adding the awkward flare of a kick or a borderline racist “hi-yah” sound effect—to show me they too, could be a young grasshopper.
There was no way to do those moves without an understanding of the basics, but as a child I didn’t know how to explain that in a casual conversation where my family business and cultural identity were put on the spot. The person I’d be talking to would lose interest and the conversation would move on to a different topic.
What I didn’t yet know how to explain was that the fancy techniques aren’t possible without a strong foundation, that the time spent moving from beginner to advanced built patience, discipline, and self-control—and that mental discipline defines martial arts and can be practiced however simple or sophisticated the moves.
Here are some of the fundamentals that ground my creative practice:
Keep a Simple Schedule
Writing a story is, in its most boring definition, a series of decisions. What happens to these characters? What choices do they make? What’s the most exciting way to convey that to a reader? Working on the middle of the novel, it seemed like any decision would set off a chain reaction affecting all the other characters and plot points. To make the process easier, I simplified my schedule to reduce choice fatigue and focused on one project at a time, one deadline at a time, and one specific task per work session (and end each work session knowing the specific task for the next one).
Review The Rules
When I’m struggling to see a story clearly (a big clue is if I’m writing and re-writing the same notes without any breakthroughs) I review the rules of the 5 act structure. This format is common in TV writing, and I’ve been using it to structure my short stories and each installment of The Myth of The West. To review this structure, I get out some paper and a pen, turn on an episode of a show, and chart its storylines across 5 acts. This helps me see what needs to be revealed in each act and what questions I need to answer to finish the story. (For more info on structure, check out my craft notes on Patreon.)
Journal The Process
I keep two journals—one for personal reflections and one for work. My work journal varies from general notes to specific projects. Keeping a work journal helps me maintain a productive inner dialogue articulating challenges and finding solutions. It’s a habit that helps remind me, there’s no final destination to creativity—there’s always more to learn.
Prioritize Self-Care
Creative labor is emotional labor. We need to be vulnerable as we reach inward to make art and outward to share it. When the work becomes more demanding, our self-care routines need to match the intensity of those demands. My self-care routines while working on this project have been committing to my project schedule, taking a daily walk or jog, and not getting up to write after I’ve gone to bed.
Cultivate Wonder
Ultimately, with whatever medium or genre we’re working in, an artist is tasked with capturing a sense of wonder. There’s no way to sum up the techniques or philosophy on wonder in a quick blurb in an email, but the simplest route I’ve found to that feeling is as an audience member. Regularly reading, watching movies, and appreciating work by other artists is a vital foundation to my creative practice—and reminds me why I gravitated toward making art in the first place.