Creative meteorology

It never rains but it pours and this week Philip Patston seems to be in a creative sun-storm!

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In a letter to a woman experiencing depression, Stephen Fry recently likened moods to the weather:

If it's dark and rainy it really is dark and rainy and you can't alter it. It might be dark and rainy for two weeks in a row. But... It will be sunny one day. It isn't under one's control as to when the sun comes out, but come out it will. One day.

To extend the metaphor it seems to me that creativity is often that rain that you know is so vital for the earth and humanity to exist. It can be cold and wet, but it can also be warm, refreshing and life-giving, the spring shower you want to run outside and dance naked in!

And sometimes it is dramatic, almost scary, like a hailstorm – large, heavy balls of ice, pelting from the sky, and you wonder where it came from.

About twenty years ago, when I was in quite a dark space, wondering what my adult life would be like, I wrote a swag of poetry. I remember it flowing out of me with a mind and will of its own – words filled the screen and I would re-read it like it was someone else's work. Sometimes I almost felt embarrassed by its candour as if, unauthorised, I had read someone's most personal journal.

Over the years I have wanted it to have a voice, but have never quite known how. I published it  as a giveaway book, got a friend or two to put some of it to music and finally published it as a blog. I admit I was kind of embarrassed by it still – it represented a part of me no one really knew – the ridge of low pressure perhaps, kept at bay by the large high that has been my comedy career.

In May this year the high dissipated as I "officially" gave up comedy. Indeed it has been followed by a creative low – not a deep depression, rather a steadily building blanket of humid low pressure, mounting slowly to a crescendo of moist, choking heat.

Finally, the cloud has burst!

Renee Liang asked me to be guest poet at the The Thirsty Dog, and something snapped inside. I knew I had to do it but I couldn't just sit there and read poetry. It just wasn't me. I knew there had to be music but I couldn't sing – that would be disastrous. So, somehow I ended up at my friend Tony's house with my MacBook, Apple Garageband and Tony's harmonica. We jammed for six hours and, at the end of it, the thick clouds had disappeared.

The sun came out, Tony and I grinned at each other and one of us said, "I think we've got something."

We'll know that next Tuesday 20th Oct after the gig at the Thirsty Dog.

You can get a sneak preview on the demo site I created last weekend, Poetry On Music.

And see the complete words at Love of Thoughts Random.

Whether or not we have something that other people enjoy remains to be seen, but one thing is clear: the creative process is as unpredictable as the weather and sometimes you just have to wonder where it comes from.

So, what are your stories of creative unpredictability? Leave a comment below.