Are You Creating or Just Producing?

human copy machines, georgia o’keeffe, slow productivity

Dear Creative,

You need time to do nothing. To stare blankly into the distance. Walk without a destination. Learn, read, listen, nap, play, and be without a goal.

To bring something from your mind into the world, you need time to do nothing. I am not the first to utter these words, and I won’t be the last. Here is why: quantity, volume, pure production does not serve the soul, our imagination, and ultimately leads to disenchantment with our work and passions.

If production speed and quantity are seen as the primary metric of value leveraged onto creatives, we run the risk of a world filled with repetition. By treating creativity like an on-demand service, we are ignoring the reality of being a human who creates. It leads to repetition without time to pause for reflection, which is needed for growth and evolution.

This drive for more, faster, also ignores the reality that we are part of a natural world with its own rhythms and cycles. There is a reason cultures build into patterns of the year and weeks—times of rest and times of action. Yet, with us being glued to glowing screens, it is easy to miss that the world is asking us to slow down.

I’m tired of thinking about volume. The rhetoric of ‘be consistent’ so you can gain an audience forgets that we should actually be consistent with our craft—because consistency is what allows personal growth. It allows time for practice, reflection, improvement. N.K. Jemisin said in her Masterclass, “It is your job as an artist to perceive.”

If we are always busy being content machines, how do we make time to perceive? We are ignoring that we are being influenced by the sun and the seasons, and instead worrying about the pace of days and minutes.

Cal Newport, in Slow Productivity, dropped a line (and honestly all of chapter 4) that has stuck with me. He “observed that when it comes to our understanding of productivity, timescale matters.”

We have developed a warped perspective of how much we need to get done in what amount of time. We think if we relax for an afternoon or book a vacation, somehow our work and projects will crumble. We treat ourselves like machines, expecting relentless output, forgetting that we are human—governed by seasons, not algorithms. Most office workers are lucky to be productive for 3-4 hours per day. But we sit in offices for 8 hours a day pretending—in fact, performing—productivity.

This relentless pace is not helping us. It’s stripping joy from our work, stunting our growth, and training us to be Xerox machines—copying not only others but ourselves, rewarded by algorithms for producing more of the same.

I think of Georgia O'Keeffe, who spent extended summers at Lake George, taking in the landscapes and changing light of the Adirondacks. This environment profoundly influenced her work, leading to the creation of over 200 paintings, sketches, and pastels inspired by the region's landscapes, flora, and architecture.

As autumn approached, O’Keeffe would return to New York City, bringing with her the canvases she worked on during the summer. This seasonal rhythm allowed her to unlock her creativity in the placid setting of Lake George and then re-engage with the art scene of the city in the fall. And she wasn’t the only one who had a different rhythm from our modern production march.

Thoreau retreated to Walden Pond, observing the natural world and reflecting on life. Spending two years in solitude inspired Walden, a testament to the power of quiet observation and slow living. Or Emily Carr, who would head out to camp during spring and summer in the forests of British Columbia.

I know most of us are unable to step away from our lives for a whole season. What I propose is that we begin to pay attention. Perceive. We can notice what the natural world around us is doing and match its energy rather than push against it.

Timescale begins to elongate, to slow down, when we begin to think in seasons. To move away from what needs to be done this week, today.

Much like nature, our creativity has a cycle. A rhythm. We have seasons of high energy, ideas, and inspiration—moments we want to dig into an idea, go deeper rather than wider. Then, times of rest and a need to recover and gather energy. Only to emerge ready to spring forward. I’ve been listening to Brandon Sanderson’s lectures and was interested to learn that he builds rest into his writing pace. He understands that when he is writing a novel, he gives so much to it that after it is published, there must be a period of rest before he can start again. But this is on a scale of years.

Many of the artists that impact our lives did so because they were working in years, not days or weeks.

So over the coming months and year, I am going to work on this. And I welcome you to join me.

Aligning with a longer timeline is not just a way to prevent burnout—it’s how we reclaim creativity itself.

Personal Work

Winter textures on Vancouver Island.

Book Recommendation

Slow Productivity: The Lost Art of Accomplishment Without Burnout

Cal Newport

Goodreads | Storygraph

If you enjoy this essay, you'll likely love Slow Productivity. I'm currently rereading it to gather ideas for the coming year. The first time through, I rushed, just nodding along. This time, I'm absorbing it more slowly, as his ideas deeply resonate with what I want to focus on.

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Hey, you made it to the end! I have a little secret for you! I've mentioned in past weeks that I'm working on finally finishing videos for YouTube. It's been something I've wanted to do for years—no joke. I went out to a favourite local forest trail to re-record a script because when I did it in the house, I simply didn't feel like myself. I realized perhaps a "walk and talk" would be a good way to loosen up. I think it worked! What I didn't account for was that I'd be so focused on talking and trying not to slip on snowy steps that I would work out my quads so intensely that I can barely bend my knees now. Apparently, I was walking in a slow crouch the entire time? Anyway, should you choose to watch the video when I release it, just know: I can barely walk now.

proof I am really trying to get this done.