We’re all so into productivity these days, yup, being productive is “in”. But how do we define productivity? I tried to answer that question intelligently yesterday, and a coherent description… was not forthcoming.
Because I harbored a guilty secret!
Earlier in the day, I received delivery of two of my favorite notebooks, my “external brain”. Soooo lovely, double metal-spiral-bound, creamy paper, a grid of grey dots that permits organisation, but doesn’t complain if you scrawl curvily all over the page. Rhodia DotBook, the best.
So, I drew up this week’s “To Do” list, sorting items by an estimate of the time required: fast, medium, slow. Such a beautifully laid-out page!
On top of the list and ostensibly on top of my mind was “Practice for upcoming concert”.
So all set was I for a lovely and productive day.
Except my subconscious had another thing entirely planned. That inaccessible and secretive brain system—no, let’s just say it right out loud: that sneaky and underhanded brain system—derailed my day! Honestly, I, the conscious part of my brain, me, myself and I, we had no part whatsoever in this plot! I am innocent!
I mean, I was literally reaching for my flute case when, out of nowhere, came a lovely scrap of melody! OOH. Rather nice! Gosh, really rather nice. Would make a nice piece for one of my students…Oh, but I must practice, such a pity.
Or, maybe I could practice in the afternoon? The day is young!
Indeed it is! One must not “stand up” the Creative Source!
Manuscript paper and beloved 12B pencil at hand, scratch, scratch, scratch. A section, check. B section—ah, yes, take it up higher, bring it back down—check. Ritornello of A section to close. Lovely.
Well, now I ought to practice! But it is not even noon! And I really wonder what I might come up with for a piano accompaniment. (The trick is to find something beautiful that even I, the lapsed-since-age-13-pianist, can nearly play). So…off to the piano. Ah, ooh, lovely! (Gosh, flute and piano is a great combo!—As if a revelation, one day after hearing a student play the entire “Undine” Sonata by Carl Reinecke—loveliness and passion both). Well, this is no “Undine”, which has 200 notes per for the piano, but it is “better than a sack of potatoes”! You know what I mean.
So, one piece—and several rounds of tweaking the details—DONE by lunchtime! Fantastic, and so much time left for practicing still!
Did you know that caffeine is in cahoots with the Creative Source? No sooner had I drunk my post-lunch coffee and reached once again for my flute case, when a little prosodic ditty popped into my head, complete with tune and the words “jump up, shout it!”. Well, yeah, caffeine. Sends me to the moon, typically.
Oh gosh! I REALLY ought to practice! (Though in fact I practiced a lot last week, and also the last 40 years or so…). Indeed I ought.
So of course I didn’t.
Because really, it is very, very bad business to shun the Creative Source. She might shun me back, withholding all the lovely tunes and ditties and prosodic bits and lyrics and instrumentation ideas…and the ability to improvise, permission to smudge my pastels, to paint faces green and hills pink, and make collages during drawing class!
Sorry, practicing! I was swept away by a fervent suitor! Please think nicely of me, nonetheless.
And off I went, and “Jump Up, Shout It”—let’s call it a Rock & Roll anthem for flute and piano—just practically wrote itself. Onto paper. Onto the computer. Several tweaks, refinements, adjustments, improvements.
So, was my day productive?
Don’t ask my flute, ask the Creative Source. And she says: Whaddyathink? Two nifty pieces in one day? Ain’t that productive?? Don’t be greedy!
So I tell you this, as a friend: don’t blow off the Creative Source. Because she’s one of those gals that will treat you right, but you gotta treat her right, put her first, fix her coffee the way she likes it, and—above all—never forget to open the door for her!
