Inspiration and Finding Your Creative Zen

Inspiration (from the Latin inspirare, meaning "to breathe into") refers to an unconscious burst of creativity in a literary, musical, or other artistic endeavour.

"Whether I was in my body or out of my body as I wrote it I know not. God knows."

- George Frideric Handel

For my second post here on Ruminations from the Edge, I wanted to tackle the subject that made me start this blog to begin with, the most fascinating concept relating to art, music, writing and creativity in general: inspiration.  As it turns out though, this universally experienced yet profoundly mysterious subject is quite a big one, an endless rabbit hole of questions and viewpoints.   I decided for the time being to focus on the most practical aspect possible: how do we get inspired?  The experience of being inspired seems to be identical to everyone that has experienced it since the beginning of time though it has been called everything from an act of God to a departure from sanity.  I asked composer friends Austin Wintory, Laura Karpman, Jack Wall and Joe Kraemer what inspiration means to them and though the experience of it seems to be universal, they each had some interesting thoughts on how they get into that creative "zone".

I personally always felt like inspiration was like a timid yet stubborn child who would only make an appearance when they were sure nobody was looking for them.  If I had a dollar for every time I had a substantial musical idea pop into my head when I was nowhere near a place to put it down (like in the shower, while driving, or my favorite - just as I start to fall asleep), I'd be able to retire comfortably.  I won't get into the science of the right and left brain here (though the subject does fascinate me), but I will ruminate on what it means to be inspired and how to find your way to that goldmine of creative ideas that scarcely seems to be there when you're looking for it but always graces you with a visit when you least expect it.

One of the biggest challenges for a lot of us as composers is that when we take on a project we have represented ourselves as having the ability to create something from nothing, something inspired and substantial.  We do this at times with a subconscious irrational fear that somehow, THIS TIME, that magical visit from the inspiration fairy won't show up.  We know from past experience that it has shown up each time without fail (though sometimes at the 11th hour) yet somehow the lack of ability to call up inspiration at will makes us secretly feel like we are selling snake oil.  

"Literally every time…and I have, I don't know, a hundred films on my iMDB list…at the beginning of every project, I truly can't remember how to do this job"

- Mychael Danna (Life of Pi)

And then it happens…Somewhere along the way the ideas start flowing faster than we can keep up with them and from a place inside us we scarcely recognize.  Many of us go into a near trance-like state where the world disappears and we become vessels to bring this musical idea (or piece of artwork) into the world.  We forget to eat, go to the bathroom or think about much of anything else for hours or even days.  We often emerge on the other side of this state having little memory of the experience yet the idea is born.   The ideas may not be what we originally envisioned but they are nonetheless inspired.  Calmly and confidently trusting that this mysterious and elusive process will eventually lead you (however windy the road may be) to the finish line might just be the path to creative enlightenment (or at least make for a smoother ride).

"Inspiration always feels more like the act of staying out of the way than of dredging up emotions or ideas. When things click together at their best, I always feel that the music somehow already existed and my job was to simply be a surrogate of sorts. If I assert myself too heavily into the process it gets watered down or even ruined. So any sort of creative rituals that I have tend to be about letting go and just letting it all happen (this sort of sounds like a confession to composing-via-Ouija-Board, but I promise I haven't reached that level yet!)"

- Austin Wintory (Journey)

So how do you find your way to that elusive yet magical place where inspiration comes out to play?  That is the burning question.  Though all creative people seem to share certain habits and experiences, the path to that special place is different for all of us and familiarizing yourself with it might be the key to getting back there with greater frequency.  When do you feel the most inspired?

"For me writing music is very much like meditating. There is a separate state of consciousness that exists that's different from our awake state and our sleeping dream state. It's sort of a meditative state of consciousness that I strive for in order to write music that connects. When I sit down to write, one of the most important things I do as a ritual is cognitively realize and acknowledge that what I'm about to do is not about me and my abilities as a composer. It's really more about how well I can listen. It's not unlike Michelangelo who knew that his sculptures already existed within the slab of stone. He was merely chipping away at the bits that didn't belong. 

When I write, I'm tapping into that vast infinite universe of possibilities that already reside somewhere in our collective consciousness. I'm finding those notes and the spaces in between. I have to have faith and trust that whatever I tune into will be right. It's really an exercise in letting go. If I can get quiet, I will hear the music that is already there. The more effective I get at this, the more the music seems to resonate. It's when I "try" to write or forget these things that I get into trouble. I suppose that I'm a composer for exactly this reason. It's my way of tapping into something magical - a sonic glue that connects us all. Oh - and for some reason, when I'm stuck, taking a shower helps. I've written a lot of shower music!"

- Jack Wall (Call of Duty Black Ops 2, Mass Effect, Myst)

Another important question to ponder is what are your greatest enemies of inspiration?  I know for me, one of the greatest enemies of inspiration is clutter.  Whether it be clutter in my workspace or in my schedule, the more things I have weighing on my subconscious, the less likely I will be to gain any kind of creative momentum.  This also goes for noise.  Sometimes inspiration can speak in a whisper and even the smallest distraction can get in it's way.  This may be why I find my most creative time to be late at night when most people are asleep.  No cars, no leafblowers, no calls.  Just me and my muse.  I have gotten fairly good at maintaining focus amidst distractions considering my studio is in my home and I have a young child and pets but it has taken years of practice.  Another big creative roadblock is emotional distress.  While some people thrive on and are inspired by chaos and pain, I myself shut down creatively when I am not at peace.

To combat clutter in my schedule, I usually try to take care of as much of the logistics and correspondence as possible in the morning while I'm still waking up.  For some reason my creative brain likes to hit the snooze for a couple of hours so I spend that time taking care of the other stuff.  This may be another reason why my most creative time of day is later in the day or at night.  I also do my best to get tasks out of my brain and onto lists as soon as often as possible.  The more things I am trying to hold onto in my head at the same time, the less I am able to relax.

One thing is for sure, forcing inspiration to happen will almost certainly never work.  It took me a long time to realize that knowing when to push on and when to call it a night was a huge thing.  We don't always have the luxury of time but sometimes persistently working when you're mentally exhausted will slow you down more than taking a strategic break to clear your mind.  Knowing yourself well enough to know the difference is an acquired but essential skill, something I still practice and attempt to fine tune on every project.  Sometimes stepping away for a short while and distracting yourself with a task or a simple physical activity can free your mind to find it's way back to a more inspired place.  Composer Brian Tyler plays basketball to alleviate momentary bouts of writer's block.  I once heard Hans Zimmer say he takes a bath sometimes to relax and that though he wishes he could avoid it, sometimes just showing up to the studio and being there in front of the proverbial blank page will eventually yield results.

"I sit down to the piano regularly at nine-o'clock in the morning and Mesdames les Muses have learned to be on time for that rendezvous."

- Pyotr Ilich Tchaikovsky

On the subject of exhausting one's self, it is also important to do what Julia Cameron refers to in The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity as "filling the creative well" or taking time out in our busy schedules to turn inwards in relaxation as well as outwards in observation.  The image of a well describes creativity as a channel deep into the earth or the psyche – a vessel or conduit that can be tapped unseen for a long while, but may eventually run dry unless more water is allowed to flow into its source.  So how does one "fill the creative well"?  Cameron suggests "allowing more "water" to enter the well from below, by relaxing and resting the creative mind. We may also refill the fountain from above by pouring new images and experiences into the inner well of the mind...Take an evening off and go for a long walk in the park. Watch a movie. Read a good book. Doing something for yourself, even for an hour or two, can have an impact on the experience of writing and on your results on the page."

There is also something to be said for deadlines.  Though I have never specifically been a "wait until the last minute" kind of person, it is inevitable on most projects that a lot of work has to be done at the last minute for various reasons that aren't necessarily the fault of the composer (though sometimes it is).  A lot of times it is craft and instinct that get us through to the finish line but often times inspiration shows up when we least expect it to save the day.  There have been many times I've nailed the last cue on a film or show under enormous pressure and in a seemingly impossible amount of time yet with an inexplicable calm, like a basketball player making a game winning shot with less than a second on the clock or a pilot landing crash landing a plane.  I might be reaching a bit in the comparison there but it does feel that way sometimes.

I asked composer Laura Karpman (Taken miniseries, Everquest) what inspires her and how she finds her creative zen:

"Inspiration: the ocean, my son, my spouse, Stravinsky, Peet's coffee, Milton Babbitt, really good Nova, not fishy, a hot bath, great cake without frosting, an apricot, thinking of my mother, shopping for shoes (same as thinking of my mother).

Getting in the zone - breathing, a great walk, morning, and a really rigid and clear schedule. What doesn't work: frenzy."

"Jack Reacher" and "The Way of the Gun" composer Joe Kraemer has a really interesting approach to getting inspired:

"I think often of a scene from Star Trek: The Next Generation, where Mr. Data is struggling to perform the first violin part in a string quartet. He argues that as a machine, he is incapable of inspiration or true creativity. Captain Picard asks Data how he approached performing the violin part, and Data explains that he simply took elements from three different soloists throughout Federation history, and brought nothing to the performance of himself. Picard pointed out that these three soloists each had vastly different styles, came from entirely different cultures, and from varying eras in history. Before Data, no one would ever have thought of combining those elements the way he did. In this way, Data created a unique, and inspired, performance.

When I'm stuck on a scene, when I'm trying to crack a score, or find the right motif that will carry me through a film, I sometimes play a little game. I will pick three different elements, from three sources as widely varied as I can think of, and see what happens. Before long, this little exercise has opened up my thinking and I'm on my way. I believe that like Mr. Data, no one else would choose the three elements that I did, and that will make my composition unique. Maybe even inspired…"

However it is that you get there, inspiration is the heart of the creative process and the better you know your own path to it, the better you will be able to retrace your steps back when you are lost. Be good to yourself and remember to be good to the goose that laid the golden eggs.  In that classic fable the goose's owners killed it to get to the gold inside and in doing so the goose never made gold again.  I thank Halo composer Marty O'Donnell for that analogy that always reminds me to be treat my creative self with care and replenish my creative well before trying to force inspiration.

Special thanks to Austin Wintory, Jack Wall, Laura Karpman and Joe Kraemer for taking time out of their busy schedules to share their thoughts on inspiration with us!

See you next time!

N

Neal Acree's official site

Instinct, one of a composer's most valuable tools.

"Good instincts usually tell you what to do long before your head has figured it out"

- Michael Burke, author

Instinct might just be the most valuable tool in a composer's arsenal next to musical training and a dramatic sense.  Instinct is the invisible force that guides us through a scene or a game summoning all our knowledge and experience to lay out an invisible map for us to follow as we create music where no other guidelines exist.  Instinct is what lays down the proverbial creative bread crumbs that lead us where we have never been before and pushes into the unknown with a curious sense of confidence.  I don't mean to get all Obi Wan Kenobi on you here but instinct is certainly deserving of a little rumination as it may be a bigger part of who you are as a composer than you realize and how you got here in the first place (wherever "here" is for you).

Every composer that has ever endured the rite of passage of delivering the seemingly impossible score with a seemingly impossible deadline can probably relate to the analogy that creativity for hire can be like going into battle.  We, as composers bring to the table a unique skill set and an unrelenting desire to see the project through in the face of impossible odds that can only be compared to the most hardened of soldiers going off to war...or at least it feels that way sometimes.  It is not uncommon for us to literally feel the physical and psychological effects of a "do or die" mentality being the "last line" in the production.

Instinct guides the most experienced and well trained composers just as much as it does those who have never worked to picture or with interactive media.  Instinct can lead us in bold creative directions, often leaving us scratching our heads wondering how we got there but unable to see any other musical solution.  Sometimes collaboration takes us against our instinctual currents and into unfamiliar waters, leaving our training to keep us afloat, but it is our instincts that help us find our way back to the heart of the scene.  Then of course there are times when we second guess ourselves and keep digging even though we've already struck gold.  There is something unmistakeable that clicks when the music in a scene falls into place, affecting us emotionally like an outside force even though we created it.  This is the creative blueprint that our instinct follows and knowing how to open yourself up to it and to trust it is an essential skill of a good composer.

"I can't describe how I arrive at the decision to make a statement, I simple feel it and react to it."

- Jerry Goldsmith

Those of us who have decided to brave the competitive world of composing against all odds have probably already begun to follow their instinct and listen to their inner voice, perhaps without even knowing it.  Something inside told us that despite the increasingly competitive climate of the entertainment industry and the ever decreasing likelihood that we would be able to support ourselves and our families as musicians, no other path would quiet the yearning in our souls to create.  We believed instinctually that we had something to say as artists and were willing to make whatever sacrifices we needed to in our lives to find a place to be heard.  Your instincts are what brought you here in the first place and they will always be there to guide you when you are lost.

"For me personally, listening to that inner voice, the one that is balancing the constant battle of heart and brain, feeling and intellect, has been the largest accomplishment in growing as a composer. And in the end, it comes down to trusting your instincts, a pseudo "Catch Phrase" that I really think can get marginalized, when in fact should be payed greater attention to as a composers greatest asset.  I can't count the number of cues I have written where I went against my initial burst, ignored my initial "Blink" (if you're a Malcolm Gladwell reader), ignored my first instinct… and realized at the end how far off course I was, only to realize my first instinct would have been spot on. Its a valuable lesson I have come to lean on, especially as time frames grow tighter, minute counts rise, pressure mounts… Trusting your Instincts is, in a way, the most valuable thing a composer has to turn to.  Instinct isn't the only tool I have in my tool box, but its certainly one of the strongest.  And its once I have come to trust more and more as time goes by."

-Trevor Morris (The Borgias, Immortals)

So what does instinct mean from a practical standpoint?  It's easy to wax poetic and talk about composing from a philosophical standpoint but when you're starting out and still trying to wrap your head around what it means to be a composer, you're usually looking for some real world, specific answers.  This topic might not be one of those "nuts and bolts" kind of things but there are ways to learn to trust your instincts and at the very least avoid making a habit of tripping over them on your way to the finish line.

"It sounds really stupid, I hate making cosmic comments like this but I just let it do what it wants to do."

- Danny Elfman (The Nightmare Before Christmas, Edward Scissorhands)

For me personally, the first viewing of a film, game, script or even artwork can start the gears in my creative brain turning.  While this may be "inspiration" (the topic of my next blog) and not specifically "instinct" (though the two concepts are often associated), it is the initial direction that I am subconsciously taken in that is the one I pay careful attention to.  At this time I usually find myself jotting down numerous seemingly random ideas as fast as I can keep up with them.  Everything from themes to motifs to sounds get laid out in one big sequence in Logic.  I'll flesh them all out as much as possible before a new idea takes me elsewhere but I'll save everything.  The real trick is, if time permits, giving yourself a few days at the very least to step away from these ideas and come back to them once the initial creative tides have subsided and are on their way back in.  Creating some space between the creative brain and the "editor" brain can be helpful in letting those ideas be recorded in the heat of inspiration but get cultivated with the focus that only that other side can bring.  These two often try to step on each other's turf but in this initial phase it is essential to give them their space.

Instinct is one of the most important tools a composer has when he or she is working under a deadline. At the beginning of a project, I always try to set aside time to revise and rewrite thematic material, instrumental ideas and other compositional building blocks. But, as the deadline looms ever closer, the time I have to second guess myself gets ever smaller. By the end of a project, I have to trust my instincts above all else. The first sketch of any cue must be in the right neighborhood, because there's no time to go back and write it a second time. Honing my "gut reaction" to scenes has proven essential to writing music on a deadline that I can still be happy with and excited about.

- Bear McCreary (The Walking Dead, Battlestar Galactica)

Deeper into a project, instinct becomes an essential tool.  You rarely have time to second guess yourself or try out multiple ideas.  More often than not I've found that my first ideas are the strongest.  That's not to say that there haven't been times it's taken me numerous attempts to arrive at the final version but it's always important to give that initial instinct it's chance to shine.  Even if the people you're working for have different ideas about the project than you do, if you believe in yourself and find that you have something inside you that speaks to the project, it's important that they at least get to hear it as a starting point.  It's up to you to decide how much you are willing to compromise when collaborating.  Ultimately a composer's job is to help realize the director's creative vision but that can be done in many ways and the more you can bring your own voice to a project, the stronger that voice will become in the long run.

If you're lucky as I have been to find great collaborators in your career who truly understand music and who know how to bring out the best in you, then there are times when following someone else's instincts can lead you in some pretty cool directions.  A good collaborator can lead you to conclusions you never would have thought of on your own and can push you when you are discouraged or just plain being lazy.  When your instinct is running in sync with your collaborator, some pretty amazing things can happen.  Just look at the fruits of collaborations like that of Spielberg and Williams, Hitchcock and Hermann just to name a few.  Always keep your eyes on your vision and do your best to communicate it but be open to trying new things.  The best collaborations develop and grow more and more fruitful over time.  The better you understand your collaborator and the more you trust each other, the less inhibited you both will be creatively. 

"Instinct is that feeling of damn-it-I-knew-I-should-have, before I've actually done it. Ironically, sometimes I hate being right... Even if I want to argue with myself, instinct usually has the annoying upper hand. Instinct is a feeling of truth. It sustains sanity if you can learn to live with it, and the consequences that come with following it. If hindsight is 20/20, instinct is a telescope into the future and a great manager of expectations--especially in matters of the heart and music."

- Jeremy Soule (Skyrim, Guild Wars)

In closing, I hope I've at the very least given you a gentle reminder that instinct is what got you here in the first place and you will always do right to be in tune with that inner voice.  Always be open to the possibility that you had it right the first time and know when it's time to humbly go back to the drawing board.  Those of us who have braved the odds to find a place for their voice to be heard (and God willing an ear or two to listen) must protect and nurture that voice with the same determination.  Regardless of what people say about composing for hire, you ARE and artist and always will be one as long as you have something to say musically. Being an artist doesn't mean you can't be easy to work with and be able to help others realize their creative vision.  Serve the project, satisfy your clients, stay true to yourself and always follow your instincts.

Special thanks to Trevor Morris, Bear McCreary and Jeremy Soule for taking time out of their busy schedules and lending me their thoughts on the subject.  You guys are inspirations!

See you next time!

N

www.nealacree.com