I don’t know if it’s an effect of growing up or an effect of growing up during these trying ass times but sometimes it feels like that spark of creativity is gone (or at least incredibly diminished).
Went back and read one of my older stories from a few years back and I gotta say, it’s striking how entertaining and creative I found it, and when I think to anything I written recently, it’s depressing how dull/uninspired it is.
Same, kinda. This year I’ve been leaning into recreating that sense of childhood creativity in my writing/art; for me, it’s about bringing back the earnestness and enthusiasm that got dulled in my teen/adult years. I think we’re all still the same creative kid inside, we’re just embarrassed now about our ideas being “cringe” or “unoriginal”. Or we’re making stuff to appeal to an audience instead of ourselves.