I have often consoled myself for this lack by repeating, whenever I was in doubt or depression, that creativity is an act of the imagination, the unconscious, not craft. Add to that constant practice, and I’m bound to become a writer in the truest sense of the word. Sooner or later.
-“if left to itself, the unconscious mind will never stop playtime or come down from drifting in the clouds; the unconscious isn’t terrifically fond of work, but craftsmanship can guide it into harness.”
-“instruments of craftsmanship, once acquired, are something which the unconscious mind can also make use of. In this sense, the writer’s study of craft is analogous to the sculptor’s study of anatomy, the musician’s constant practice of scales. Once fully known, these elements of craftsmanship become reflexive….Once the tools of craftsmanship have been mastered to that extent, you can use them without thinking about them, to make your imagination more mobile and ultimately more free.”
They become part of my dream-space.
And when I write, it is not merely an image or a sketch but a fleshier being, something ready to be molded into a story.