Are you struggling for a scrap of inspiration? Feeling like you couldn’t write a grocery list, much less knock out a brief for that new campaign? Wondering why your creativity seems to have departed for sunnier climes without so much as a postcard? Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the international bestseller Eat, Pray, Love has a theory about where you can find it.

In her funny and thought-provoking talk at the February TED conference in Santa Barbara, Gilbert takes us back to the ancient Greek and Roman idea of the artist’s muse—his “genius”—as something external to the artist himself. She explains, “They believed that a genius was a sort of magical divine entity, who was believed to literally live in the walls of an artist’s studio, kind of like Dobby the house elf, who would come out and sort of invisibly assist the artist with their work and would shape the outcome of that work.”

And the artist’s role in this was simply to show up, to be present for their work, and give it a chance to express itself.

But along came the Renaissance and rational humanism, which put the individual at the center of the universe. Gilbert says that “people started to believe that creativity came completely from the self of the individual. And for the first time in history, you start to hear people referring to this or that artist as being a genius rather than having a genius.”

Which screwed up everything. Because as any creative person knows, inspiration often feels like a kind of divine intervention. So if we continue to believe that we’re somehow the source of that inspiration, then we’re left holding the creative bag, so to speak, when we’re unable to summon it.

Hence the artistic proclivities for alcoholism and manic-depression.

Gilbert suggests that we return to the original conception of genius as a way of animating our creativity and maintaining our mental health. Exploring how we might accomplish this she shares an anecdote from an interview with Tom Waits. He describes negotiating with his muse, who had the temerity to pester him at an inconvenient moment.

“Excuse me, can you not see that I'm driving?" he asks. "Do I look like I can write down a song right now? If you really want to exist, come back at a more opportune moment when I can take care of you. Otherwise, go bother somebody else today. Go bother Leonard Cohen."

The next time you’re feeling hopelessly uncreative treat yourself to Gilbert’s inspiring 19-minute talk. Then congratulate yourself for—in her words—“having the sheer human love and stubbornness to keep showing up.”

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If you'd like a PDF transcript of Gilbert's talk (I keep one handy for creative emergencies), send me a message with your email address. ;)

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