In defense of useless hobbies, Part II

What does this frothy chick lit read have to say about creativity?

I’ve been reading a lot of pink books.

Book covers have trended a certain way in recent years as publishing realizes two things: 1) that many of us are indeed judging books by their covers when we choose what to read and 2) that women read books – a lot of books. Hence, book covers that are unabashedly “girly” … bright pink, glittery and decadent, glossy and inviting.

For the record, the pink-book-cover phenomenon has my full support. But because this is a newsletter about creativity, we’re going to talk a little about one of my favorite recent pink reads because I love what its origin story says about our useless hobbies.

One to Watch is a wry, sparkling chick lit escapade about a beauty and fashion blogger who reluctantly makes her reality TV debut as the first plus-size “Main Squeeze” (a fictionalized Bachelorette). I enjoyed this novel because – as I discovered last year – I love women’s fiction and I have a special place in my heart for books that manage to skewer think-piece culture in fresh, funny ways. But I’m talking about a chick-lit novel in this newsletter because I think its very existence says something interesting about creativity.

I’m always watching out for examples of how creativity blossoms, and the author bio in the back of this novel caught my eye. One to Watch is the first novel from political strategist and writer Kate Stayman-London. She might not be a household name, but her clients are: Stayman-London has written for Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. She also happens to love reality TV, an interest that – I’m assuming – led to writing a bestselling debut novel that I didn’t want to put down.

Sometimes we don’t know where rabbit holes lead. Hours of watching reality TV or rummaging through Wikipedia or playing video games or any other aimless, ostensibly mindless activity may seem like wasted time. But I love a reminder that sometimes those “useless” hobbies that provide a mental break can also spark new ideas and give us room to grow.

We all feel that urge to produce, produce, produce. Hustle at your job. Check off the accomplishments. Have Facebook-post-worthy experiences and document them dutifully. But as I get older, I realize more and more that the “useless” things are often the stuff of life.

I’ve been doing Julia Cameron’s Morning Pages exercise for about three years now, and you would think that there could be nothing more useless than scribbling thoughts on paper in barely legible handwriting that you will never look at again. (You can of course reread your Pages if it helps, but for me, it works best to treat this exercise as a mental clearing out that I don’t have to revisit in any way.)

I’ve talked about this exercise about a thousand times in this newsletter because … it works. Whenever I think I don’t need Morning Pages anymore, strange things happen. My brain starts to sneak up on me and tell me dark thoughts from earlier seasons of depression that I thought were debunked. I grow listless in my creative life and start to overthink anything I’m writing. I can’t seem to get past the ordinary mental clutter of life in order to write, day-job tasks and home to-do lists and social media takes piling up in my brain. Skipping this exercise is like cancelling therapy or not calling my mom regularly or eating sugar every day: a bad idea.

We’re trained to think in terms of producing, but so many important things don’t result in a tangible product, or are less a doing and more an undoing that will need to be done over and over again. Dishes washed will become dirty again, weeds pulled from the garden will grow back. There is an element of futility in the life-affirming activities that don’t result in a tangible product: spending time with friends talking about nothing, or journeying through the liturgy for yet another Sunday morning, or learning a new song on the piano, or cooking and eating a nourishing meal.

These days, I’m learning both to wander and to be still. Not pressuring myself to produce continually is one part of that, but another key way I’m learning stillness is slowing down on the information I take in. I’ve been driving more (yes, me! Your patron saint of anxious drivers everywhere) and for now, I’m appreciating the specific quiet of listening to the same songs over and over, rather than trying to catch up on a bunch of podcasts or double up on my reading with audiobooks. In my book life, I’ve been making recklessly frothy reading lists, and instead of the latest TV show, I’ve been comfort-re-watching season 2 of How I Met Your Mother.

I’m letting myself explore a new creative process for a writing project and doing my very best not to judge myself during it. If you’ve noticed, I’ve also been wandering more with this newsletter, trying new formats and ideas and approaches on for size.

In other words, I’ve allowed myself to pick up a lot of books with pink covers. Sometimes you have to follow what you’re drawn to and see where it goes.