Part 1: A story about a cantaloupe and the creative process

Gather ’round, girlz & boyz, ’cause I have a story to tell involving a cantaloupe and the creative process. A pairing I bet you never considered before. Because really–why would you?

But I did. And the answer was a big AHA! moment for me.

It all started with a standoff.

There was a cantaloupe on my kitchen counter refusing to ripen. Four days—FOUR DAYS—I waited for that sucker to give me a sign he/she/it/they/them was ready to surrender to the knife.

By mid-week all that squeezing, sniffing, eyeballing became personal. I began referring to it as Melon. Yes, with a capital M.

Melon began giving off signs. From rock hard to maybe a little softer. A bit of give to the ends. And the rind took on the appearance of my thighs cellulite with little bumps and lumps.

In other words, it looked ripe. It felt ripe.

But—and this is what hung me up—it didn’t smell ripe. It didn’t smell like anything at all.

A ripe cantaloupe is supposed to make my nose do the happy dance.

But the best my nose could muster was meh.

So what do I do? Cut too early and it’s crap for the compost. Wait too long it’s mushy and gross crap for the compost. I’m facing a garden variety existential dilemma.

In the end it was my inner five-year-old who called the shots. “F-it! I want me some melon!”

Yes, she actually said that.

The older I get, the more potty-mouth my inner child becomes.

So on the morning of the fourth day I decided it was time to be bold. Time to grab the knife and cut that sucker in half.

And lo, I was rewarded for my bravery with the most perfect of melons. Sweet. Juicy. Succulent.

Cue the choir and get down on my knees. Oh sweet baby j…thank you for this miracle!

Part 2: So what’s this got to do with creativity?

Looking back, I don’t think I was really waiting for Melon to ripen.

I was waiting for certainty.

I wanted one unmistakable sign that said, “Go ahead. This is the right moment.”

But life doesn’t hand out certificates of readiness. There was no way to know if Melon was perfect until I cut into it. I had reached the limit of observation.

The knife wasn’t just going to reveal the answer. It was the answer. It was the experiment.

Creativity works the same way.

Not in the sense that I stand around waiting to make the first mark. If anything, I’m the opposite. I dive in. Scribble. Slap paint around. Make a glorious mess. I’ve never had much trouble beginning.

But there are plenty of other places where I find myself standing around sniffing the metaphorical melon.

Is this painting finished? Should I change direction? Should I publish the blog post? Apply for the show? Try the crazy idea?

I keep looking for one final sign that removes all risk.

One more sniff. One more squeeze. One more day on the counter.

But some questions can’t be answered by standing there looking at them. I won’t know if the color works until I put it down. I won’t know if the composition works until I move the shape. I won’t know if the blog post resonates until I hit Publish.

Thinking can only take me so far. Eventually I have to take action. Run the experiment.

Sometimes I discover exactly what I was hoping for. Sometimes I discover what doesn’t work.

Either way, I’m no longer standing in the kitchen sniffing Melon.

This Week’s Creative Prompt

Where in your creative life have you reached the limit of observation? What’s the metaphorical melon sitting on your counter?

Instead of waiting for one more sign, run the experiment.

Make the brushstroke.

Hit Publish.

Submit the application.

Start the conversation.

Cut in.

Then see what happens.

Back next week–