Apparently, You Can Be Too Unkempt

Tidying up, saying farewell, and what I've learned about creativity from writing (or not writing!) this newsletter. Don't worry: there are book recommendations at the end.

Oolong, sweetened with fruit sugar, iced, frothed, and served in a beer glass. It’s my writing group’s latest addiction (this past winter it was tahini tea lattes and, in the spring, an iced rose and oat milk concoction that was delish).

The three of us had gathered at our usual table. Between sips of beer-tea and admiring the cover of Letting Magic In on the pages of People magazine, we were discussing creativity. Specifically how too much freedom can kill it.

"Creativity loves constraint,” Carrie said, as she dabbed at the condensation on the table top.

You would think that was an oxymoron, but in my experience it’s mostly true.

Back when I was in architecture school (long before I traipsed off to Ireland to study with a witch), the first thing I would do when I entered the studio was rip a small piece of tracing paper and pencil a time onto it. That was my end time. It’s pretty common for architecture students to work through the night. In fact, it’s a point of pride. You’ll often hear architects-to-be smugly declare I’m on charrette as if staying up all night in a caffeinated fug was a lifetime achievement. But after a few disastrous all-nighters, I realized that 3am was not a good time for me to be attempting to figure out how far a deck could cantilever. So I began my routine of choosing an end time. No matter where I was in my project, at the designated time I would roll up my elevations and switch off my desk light. My decisions didn’t get better for having the whole night to make them, they just became more tortured. I ruminated on the smallest thing. I changed details back and forth and back again. And truth be told, I was, and am, a huge fan of sleep.

You would think I needed to watch the clock and carefully schedule every hour to get my work done in half the time it was taking everyone else. But it was actually the opposite. The time parameter was a container that let me relax. My subconscious kept track and I was almost always done by the hour I’d taped to the top corner of my drawing board. I learned to endure envious glances as I cruised out the door at midnight, knowing there’d be looks of gratitude when I reappeared at 7am, showered, fresh, and toting a box of still-warm donuts. My creativity seemed invigorated, not curtailed, by my time restrictions.

Can you imagine crafting parameters that would nurture your creative spirit?

I’ve found a similar thing to be true with writing books. Now that I’ve done it a few times, I actually can imagine finishing a book without contractual constraints but, in the beginning, I needed the deadlines, along with the sense of external urgency, to keep me from wallowing on every editorial choice. Case in point: I’ve re-written this post about five times. Maybe I should put sticky note with a time limit on the corner of my computer screen.

All of this makes it particularly interesting that I chose to create a Substack newsletter which intentionally had no constraints.

At the moment of inception, it sounded so fun and freeing: write whatever you want!

I’d forgotten the lessons of my own past. I’d convinced myself that freedom would lead to genius. Christene Barberich, who writes

A Tiny Apt.

here on Substack, encouraged me to create an editorial schedule. But what was the fun in that? There would be no schedule! No constraints! No rules!

And you can see how well that’s worked. When there’s a book to tell you about, it’s easy to write. But otherwise, week after week, I guiltily open the Substack app and stare at an empty draft page.

Come on, Maia, you can write anything!

Maybe it was self-sabotage to craft a project with no limitations when I know I work best within a set playing field. But, even if it was sort of self-sabotagy, I love the way we revisit the same issues from different angles at various times in our lives. The lessons don’t disappear—we’re just able to move through them more quickly the second, third, and tenth time around. If you’ve read Letting Magic In, you’ll recognize this idea of learning on an upward climbing spiral. Apparently how-to-best-wrangle-my-own-creativity is a staircase I continue to climb.

I needed to remind myself that I don’t like to stare at a blank screen and try to figure out how to fill it. Instead, I want a problem to solve, an issue to roll around with, a metaphor to expand, or an archetype to explore: I want structure.

Creativity craves constraint.

There’s a deeper lesson here as well, one I’m having more trouble putting into words. It has to do with how I create: instead of playing within the spaces I’ve already set up, I long to craft fresh concoctions—new newsletter concepts, new courses, new podcasts. Some of this, I have to admit, is because I fiercely love naming things. My secret wish is that Benjamin Moore will hire me to name a new line of paints or that MAC will grab me to name next season’s lipsticks. But I’m also concerned that, if every thought isn’t brand spanking new, you’ll get bored. Many readers have been with me for years now and I always want to serve up something that nurtures you; I want to continue to feed the deep recesses of your soul. So I set out to try something new with Unkempt, going for a more edgy and magazine like feel.

But the truth is, I’m not edgy. I can be fierce and stubborn and, apparently, I have rather unusual thoughts, but I’m also misty, poetic, and lyrical. I love the everyday magic of simple things and the threads of serendipity that connect seemingly unrelated concepts. That’s my happy place and, since you’re here, I suspect it’s yours as well.

So I’m adding some guide rails to my Unkempt writing life, constraints I hope will create a warm and welcoming container for you as well as for me. I’m consciously re-inserting seasonal rhythms, mystical moments, and the other magical stuff I’ve been writing about for a dozen years…because I’m still not bored with it, and I hope you’re not either.

So keep your eyes on your inbox: moving forward, I’ll be sending short, seasonal contemplations and thought prompts every two weeks.

Those of you who get the Unkempt newsletter will get a prompt the first week of every month. Those of you who are a part of my subscription community will have a second prompt pop into your inbox during the third week of the month.

I hope these little nuggets will give you something to journal on, discuss with friends (that’s what the ‘share’ button is for!), or simply to contemplate while waiting in line at your favorite tea spot.

Seasonally Unkempt, my name for these little thought gems, will be replacing The Mystic Files. For those of you who enjoyed TMF, know that I did too. Revisiting these old posts and practices helped me to see what was truth and what was trappings. It helped me realize that no matter what had caught my top line interest—herbs, “alternative” medicine, the hero’s journey, archetypes, rites of passage, working with the moon—underneath and at the root was a sense of time as cyclical and a need to connect and flow within that cycle. Plus I LOVE the name The Mystic Files. But Shannon Thayer, who has been the Louise to my Thelma for the past seven years, is ready to drive her convertible off into the sunset (don’t worry: no cliffs in sight!). Since she was my Mystic Files partner, this re-structuring of Unkempt (or maybe just structuring since there wasn’t much before) comes at a perfect moment. For our last hoorah together, Shan and I are having a fabulous time designing these bi-monthly, bite sized bulletins to help you sink more deeply into connection with the seasonal cycles and with yourself.

Thanks for reading along and bearing with me while I get my footing here.

xxMaia

This week I’ll be reading Rachel Griffin’s newest book, Bring Me Your Midnight. (I was sooo excited to get the notification that my pre-order had shipped!) To celebrate Rachel’s latest, I’ve turned a previous conversation with Rachel and author Adrienne Young into a podcast. Listen along here.

Last month, I devoured Fourth Wing, by Rebecca Yarros. It was so gripping, I might have to read it again (like right after I finish Rachel’s book!).

P.S. If you need a summer read, Letting Magic In is getting heartwarming reviews:

Maia I have to tell you- I just picked up your memoir and I CANNOT STOP READING. It’s crazy how much we have in common. I’m 1/4 through in one sitting and I am laughing every few pages at a shared experience. You’re awesome. Thank you for sharing you magic!

- Kari Dern of @become_spellbound on Instagram

I found so many of my own beliefs in this book, so many similarities to my own continuing process of becoming, and yet many different and interesting ideas to mull over, too. The read itself was lovely and loving, in every way enjoyable.

- Nora Shalaway Carpenter of @noracarpenterwrites on Instagram

Maia Toll’s memoir made me explore nature and my inner world while she explored hers. And it made me believe in magic, in REAL magic, once again: the magic in nature, in synchronicities, in people around me, in rituals, in seasons, in ME.

Her story will make you laugh, cry, cheer, and feel all of the emotions in the world.

I can’t recommend it enough.

Thank you Maia for sharing this amazing and transformative story with us. It will stay with me forever.

- Felix Hommy Gonzalez of @tarot_and_libros on Instagram