Creative Play

by Jewel Leann Williams

I’m not even gonna lie, I am avoiding NaNoWriMo like the plague this year. I applaud all of you who are doing it, but…. I failed so miserably last year, and this year I am busier and more stressed out. It’s just not the time to put more expectations on my plate when I already feel I fail at most of my current, non-NaNo ones.  I’m cheering you all on, though.

Speaking of stress, at work tonight we were given the task of creating “hand turkeys” by one of the supervisors. Not officially, just “please do this to decorate, it will make me happy”—so we did.  I was thinking about it as we did it, at first begrudgingly, then more willingly—and more creatively. 

This is NOT one of our turkeys.  It came from IMAGE: @STEELE_MADDIE ON INSTAGRAM

What is it about coloring, cutting, and gluing that was so pleasant?

I’ve been hearing and seeing more lately about “adult coloring books” and “adult play”—there’s even a place in NYC that is running an “adult preschool” for… well, way too dang much money (I haven’t figured out what they mean by a “sliding scale” of between $333 and $999, but since they get to decide who to accept into the preschool, I imagine those who say they can only pay $333 probably are on the bottom of the wait list).

Is it that important?  You bet your sweet bippy—whatever a bippy is. Psychology Today, in an article titled “The Power of Play” states that:

But there is also evidence that play does much more. It may in fact be the highest expression of our humanity, both imitating and advancing the evolutionary process. Play appears to allow our brains to exercise their very flexibility, to maintain and even perhaps renew the neural connections that embody our human potential to adapt, to meet any possible set of environmental conditions.

Now that article is from 1999. But no research has come about to contradict it—as a matter of fact, there is more evidence than ever that play—especially creative play—can not only relax and de-stress the mind, but can serve as actual therapy. We’re not talking coloring books, though—we are talking CREATING.

So—how does this relate to the over-stressed writer? When you’re neck-deep in your NaNoWriMo project and you hit a wall of writer’s block, what can you do? In the interest of creative play, here are some ideas:

·         Draw your main character. Or a villain. Or the hunky love interest. Doesn’t have to be perfect, or even good. Get out the hot glue gun and glitter if you want. Make it into a doll and use it to act out a scene in your book. Get silly.

·         Use your kid’s actions figures and Barbie dolls to act out a scene—or not even a scene. Pretend that they are suddenly flung from the world of the book into modern day—argue with them, make them have a dance off.

·         Since many of us will be alone in our writing place, while all are asleep, when this writer’s block stress machine attacks, head for the nearest open space and make up an interpretive dance. You don’t have to dance LIKE no one is watching, because, seriously. It’s 2 am. No one is watching.

·         Color—but not in a book. Make up your OWN swirls and whorls, or scenery, or scribbles, or make your name in bubble letters and trace the colors over and over…. Again, this isn’t for an art show, it’s just to let your brain be creative, and playful, and “renew the neural connections.”

·         Do you know how to play an instrument? Take a few notes and create a song for your character. You don’t have to remember it later or write it down. You can even change the words to someone else’s song if you want.

·         Are the kids awake? Get them involved. Maybe they want to help you act out a scene. Or maybe they don’t. Play make-believe with them, and get involved in the story THEY are creating. Yeah, I know. Lightning McQueen and Batman are fighting Princess Anna and Olaf in an epic showdown to see who gets to catch Pikachu once and for all—not super-exciting, but you’re a writer, darn it, and you can make that story WORK. Best thing is, you’re creating, it’s risk free and stress free and you get to be the coolest parent in the world for a little while (as if you weren’t already all the time, right?)

·         DON’T GET ON FACEBOOK

·         DO NOT START PLAYING ONLINE GAMES—I say this because it is not creative play, it is not going to expand your mind, it is just numbing it.

What other creative outlets do you have? How do you use creative play to break writer’s block, or to simply de-stressify your life?  Share in the comments! 

This is Einstein out playing "Pretend to be Minecraft Steve" right before coming up with that whole E=MC thingy
(this image came from http://www.givegoodpodcast.com/creativeplay/)

Of Marthas and Ermas: Decompressing After the Christmas Rush

by Merry Gordon

I have a confession to make:  my Christmas game was so on point this year.

Now before you get all bent out of shape, I know that's not what it's all about. Believe me, I get Christmas.  I choke up when Tiny Tim says "God bless us, every one!"  I melt in the first few seconds of It's a Wonderful Life.  I take in the quiet splendor of the lights at the Mesa Temple and tear up reading Luke 2 as I think about the sheer magnitude of God's gift to me in the form of the tiny Christ child. I hold my family a little closer, understanding what a precious gift they are to me as well. 

But that's not what I want to talk about today.

I want to talk about fudge and cheese balls and orange cranberry bread.

See, there's a lot of pressure on women during the holidays.  Here's how it works. There are two types of women in the world as measured against the Supreme Scale of Holiday Hostess:  there are Martha Stewarts, and there are Erma Bombecks.

This year, I tried being Martha Stewart.  I made fudge from scratch for my kids' teachers.  I concocted some perfectly delectable cheese balls and presented them at a party.  I made loaves upon loaves of orange cranberry bread, wrapped them in cute ribbons, and delivered them to neighbors and friends.

The finished products certainly looked Martha Stewart.  What you didn't see is the part where the fudge boiled over and nearly ate through my brand new glass cooktop. You missed the part where I dropped half a cup of the cheese ball mixture on the floor and didn't catch it until my son had tracked it in little pepper-flaked footprints around the perimeter of the room.  And you certainly didn't taste that failed loaf of bread in which I used a cup of salt instead of a cup of sugar.  (Cut me some slack, people. They're both white.)

Nope, I'm an Erma Bombeck.  And you know what?  That's okay.

Toward the end of her life, the beloved humorist wrote a mock letter from Martha Stewart to her and a priceless reply, which I dedicate to all of my fellow Ermas-masquerading-as-Marthas while we decompress after the Christmas rush.  We all know what Christmas is really about.  We also understand the pressure of trying to make the season delightful for those we love.  And I hope we all can end the season with smiles on our faces knowing that we are—whatever our stage in life, our circumstances or abilities—enough, in the eyes of God.

Hi, Erma,

This perfectly delightful note is being sent on paper I made myself to tell you what I have been up to. Since it snowed last night, I got up early and made a sled with old barn wood and a glue gun. I hand painted it in gold leaf, got out my loom and made a blanket in peaches and mauves.

Then, to make the sled complete, I made a white horse to pull it from DNA that I had just sitting around in my craft room. By then, it was time to start making the place mats and napkins for my 20 breakfast guests. I'm serving the old standard Stewart twelve-course breakfast, but I'll let you in on a little secret: I didn't have time to make the tables and chairs this morning, so I used the ones I had on hand.

Before I moved the table into the dining room I decided to add just a touch of the holidays. So I repainted the room in pinks and stenciled gold stars on the ceiling.

While the homemade bread was rising, I took antique candle molds and made the dishes (exactly the same shade of pink) to use for breakfast. These were made from Hungarian clay, which you can get at almost any Hungarian craft store.

Well, I must run. I need to finish the hand-sewn buttonholes on the dress I'm wearing for breakfast. I'll get out the sled and drive this note to the post office as soon as the glue dries on the envelope I'll be making. 

Hope my breakfast guests don't stay too long. I have 40,000 cranberries to string with bay leaves before my speaking engagement at noon. It's a good thing.

Love, Martha

P.S. When I made the ribbon for this typewriter, I used 1/8-inch gold gauze. I soaked the gauze in a mixture of white grapes and blackberries which I grew, picked, and crushed last week just for fun.

Response from Erma Bombeck

Dear Martha:

I'm writing this on the back of an old shopping list. Pay no attention to the coffee and jelly stains. I'm 20 minutes late getting my daughter off for school, packing a lunch with one hand-on the phone with the dog pound, seems old Ruff needs bailing out again. Burnt my arm on the curling iron when I was trying to make those cute curly fries, how DO they do that? Still can't find the scissors to cut out some snowflakes, tried using an old disposable razor . . . trashed the tablecloth. Tried that cranberry thing; frozen cranberries mushed up after I defrosted them in the microwave. Oh, and don't use Fruity Pebbles as a substitute in that Rice Krispies snowball recipe unless you like food that resembles puke! Smoke alarm is going off, talk to ya later.

Love, Erma