The contradictory dilemma of creativity

I've been thinking a lot about creativity, especially when I do my morning three pages of free writing (I do this as many mornings as I can, though I don't come anywhere near the seven days a week recommended in The Artist's Way. This writing is supposed to enhance your creativity, but how do you measure that? And if you measure it, aren't you applying the rules and forms that are the opposite of creativity? Similarly, retirement is supposed to be freeing my creativity to write the great American novel--or at least the great American mystery. But if I do as everyone says you should in retirement, move at my own pace, it takes me most of the morning to do my free writing, exercise, shower, answer emails, read the paper--I get precious little writing down. I admit that didn't worry me much as long as I was waiting for an answer, but now that I've had a rejection, I feel I need to move ahead (I did send out two queries today). Writing requires self-discipline (argh, so does dieting!). But aren't self-discipline and creativity polar opposites. I don't want to be one of those artists who creates larger-than-life canvases at three in the morning, but I would like to strike a happy balance.
I know that now, more than ever, I'm good at putting things between me and writing--manuscripts to read for TCU Press or other sources, social events, etc. This morning, while free writing, I had an epiphany of sorts (I used to have a friend who had an epiphany every day and the rest of us giggled about it). The things I put between me and writing bring me tangible results--sometimes money, often the company of good friends. So today I also finished a novel I'm reading for TCU and arranged a potluck get-together for ten or 12 neighbors for Sunday night.
I'll cook the entree, which is a funny story in itself. I'm doing a radio interview Saturday on a local station in a small town not far from here, and when the host got the review copy of Cooking My Way Through Life, she emailed that she was going to make gorilla casserole that night. I think it's really called meat and pasta casserole or something, but the last line of the recipe was "You could feed ten gorillas with it," so the kids and I always called it gorilla casserole. Next day, the radio host reported that it was yummy but even when she halved it, she had a lot left over. So that's what I'll make Sunday night--haven't made it in years.
And here I am back to food again. Last night I opened one of my special cans of Pisces tuna, fresh caught on the Oregon seacoast (no dolphins endangered), canned immediately, and only cooked once. I sauteed it in some olive oil with onions, a couple of anchovy filets, and some capers, and added it to a small amount of pasta. Really good, but I used less than half the can, so tonight I made a tossed salad with tuna (still have about 1/3 can left), leftover green beans that Jacob didn't want, some green peas from the bag I keep in the freezer, grape tomatoes halved, and a bit of lettuce--actually would have been better without the lettuce. Got to get over thinking lettuce is essential to a salad! I dressed this with a vinaigrette that had--you guessed it--some of that open can of anchovies in it.

New routine

This morning, I started what I hope will be a new routine--slept until 7:30, and then, after feeding the cat but before brushing my teeth or anything else, I sat at my desk and "free wrote" for 20 minutes. My artist neighbor, Susan, does that every morning for 30 minutes and says it frees up her creativity. Since I'm sort of blocked, I thought it would be a good thing--surprising insights. I wondered a bit how it differs from a blog, but this journal is very private whereas the blog is what I share with the world. I suppose my 20 minutes will lengthen into 30 as I get used to it--that's surely what happened with yoga. After that I got my day going but slowly--let the dog out and fed him, washed my hair and put on makeup, read the paper and emails, and it was almost ten before I got around to doing my yoga. Poor Socorro was trying to clean around me, and we kept ending up in the same room at the same time, but I did close the family room doors and get in a half hour of yoga. By the time I was dressed, it was time to go by the office, pick up my mail, and go to lunch with Melinda. I think that's the pace retirement should be lived at. I'm going to stop rushing myself and start thinking of my fulfilled projects as a blessing, rather than an empty desk.
Pleasant lunch, good nap, and then supper. My dinner pal, Betty, came here for supper since I was keeping Jacob. I fixed a favorite pasta dishes--green (spinach) noodles--but was so distracted by Jacob that I forgot the garlic, forgot the Parmesan. It was still good, lots of sliced mushrooms and hearts of palm in a lemon/butter/pesto sauce. The recipe, which I slowly expanded over the years, is in Cooking My Way Through Life. Betty has long been a fan of Jacob's, and after he got over a bit of shyness, he showed off in full form. After Betty left, he turned into a wild man, but that was okay.
Christian came to get him, and we both struggled with the pack-and-play, trying to get it folded up. We got close but not all the way, and I said we should give up. Frustration does not make for success, so we'll go at it another night. Meantime, it's down enough that Jacob won't announce he wants to sleep in it.
Now for a few peaceful minutes with a book.