Every creative person has a ritual.

Most of them call it a ‘process’, because they probably don’t want to admit that there’s aspects to it that border on ritual magic, or because they think ritual magic is something more than a sort of…psychological thing. But it really kinda is.

I’m willing to admit it, at least.

I may not actually rank among the actual creative-types. I draw a little, and I write a little, but I don’t really know what I’m doing, so calling myself a creative type might be insulting to a lot of people. To which I say: Good. Because I’m getting sick of feeling inferior because I haven’t produced some great work of literature, or some other ‘piece of art’ comparable to either the great old artists, or the great more-modern-artists.

Being a creative type doesn’t mean you have to be good at what you’re doing. It just means that you’re doing it. Because you’re driven to do it. Because you’ll go mad if you don’t get it out, and you start going mad if you haven’t even had an idea in a while.

I’m definitely like that. And I have a ritual.

I’m going to try to explain it, even though it won’t work for anyone but me. Because everyone has their own ritual.

The first part, obviously, is the actual idea.

I really don’t know how this happens. I don’t really have a ritual for summoning them. I just know that, occasionally, I’ll be wandering in my own head, and I’ll accidentally kick another damned hive of Idea Wasps.

That’s an Idea Wasp. While I was writing this, one of them attacked me, and this drawing happened. They’re to blame for pretty much everything I inflict upon the world — at least, they are right now. Later, I might come up with another term for the concept.

If the little fuckers would stop building their nests on the ground, they might not get kicked quite so often.

I can’t plan when this will happen, and I can’t really set myself up for it to happen. I haven’t discovered a ritual for that part of my process yet — it just has to happen on its own.

Two ideas might meet at random [bacon and the apocalypse, or ghost hunters and certain types of clinics, death and Littlest Pet Shop], or, in the gentler version, inspiration might creep up on me and maul me. I talked about that yesterday.

Then, the ritual comes in. The sounds and settings required for the magic of creativity to work.

If I’m just in the idea stage, I might play a stupid, simple game — a Blitz-style game on Facebook, or something Picross-like on my Nexus. Maybe some Spider Solitaire. While I’m doing that, a few words might come together into a thought, and, if it sticks around for a minute and feels right, I’ll put it in Evernote.

I’ve got a note just for potential blog posts, from when I kicked the hive that led to my relaunching my website. They all got written down either while trying to go to sleep, or between rounds of some game. Here’s a sample:

• Sleeping topless and the house burning down
• Sleep
• Zombi feels like a spider
• Insipid Android Games/PinkBox Games
• The blob of white paint? on the closet floor that scared me as a child.
• Adventures in home ownership
• Rainbow bridge is the saddest thing ever, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.
• I fail at being a girl
• The toaster of doom, and the angelic choir of smoke detectors
• Jurassic Park Builder promotes cruelty to dinosaurs.
• Not a mom
• Blankets are magical shields

Superstitions/conditional productivity is also on the list, which is kinda what I’m covering here. So I’ll be able to cross that off soon. But, obviously, I haven’t done any of these other things…because they haven’t really…stung me yet. Or bitten me, depending on what form ideas are taking that day.

But, I’ve got a list. And I remember what they all mean. And that’s a start.

Once the idea becomes a little more than an idea — once the drive and the idea merge and become Voltron or Devastator, or whatever you prefer — then, the really-conditional-conditions come in.

And the bitch of it is that I can never tell what it’s going to be.

I need to be alone. I know that much. Someone sitting where they can see what I’m doing makes me unable to do anything. Someone talking to me disrupts everything.

But: I need noise. Not just fan noise, either. Music sometimes serves, but not always. When it is music, it needs to be the right type of music, and I can never tell what the right type of music is going to be until it happens.

Usually, it’s the TV. I find it easiest to work on stuff when the TV is on, and when specific things are playing.

And, usually, it’s absolutely terrible things. The most insane conspiracy documentaries, or some Ghost Hunting show. Sometimes, though, Buffy, House, Doctor Who, or a series like Is It Real? will help me — I did the site redesign while watching Is It Real? repeatedly.

Seriously repeatedly. Like, I went through the series four times.

This makes me a pretty difficult person to live with, because having any part of that interrupted when I’m really working [and it’s hard to tell when I’m really working, because, sometimes, ‘working’ looks a lot like ‘slacking’] makes me pretty angry.

But I need that shit if I’m going to work, the same way some people need a certain pencil. The way sportsball fans need to watch a game at a certain sports bar, while wearing a certain jersey and a certain pair of socks.

Because the magic doesn’t work without the right ingredients.

Oh, I also need Coke. Coke, something on TV, maybe some music, and no interruptions, unless I need someone to message regarding a mental deadfall.

Once everything’s in the right place? It just works.

Creativity is the closest thing there is to real magic.