A Drought in the Sausage Factory. – By @oliverdfinel

A Drought in the Sausage Factory.

Coming up with fresh new strategies, ideas ad executions every single day is tough work.

Sometimes, it comes easy. Ideas come in a flash. Everything flows and seems to come together quite nicely.

It’s one hell of a high.

However, these moments are few and far between.

Most of the time, I find myself chasing that high. Begging for it to come back so I can escape the hellish territory I call ‘The Drought’.

But there’s no pill I can take, or spell I can cast, to bring me back into this dreamland of productivity and out of ‘The Drought’.

So what is ‘The Drought’ exactly?

‘The Drought’ is a place I find myself in quite often.

It usually starts when I’m sitting in front of a blank page. Thinking of a new proposition. A poster idea.

And nothing comes to mind.

Absolutely nothing.

I go from my living bedroom to the bedroom. Take a bathroom break. Hoping inspiration will strike.

Alas, nothing.

Zilch.

Nada.

That’s when I start to worry.

Am I even good enough for this?

Were all my previous ideas just pure luck?

How did I even get so far?

I’ll never have another idea in my entire life.

That’s it. I had a good run.

The machine-gun of self-doubt is on full-throttle.

I can try to chill myself out by telling me it’s just impostor syndrome. But then I start doubting that impostor syndrome isn’t an actual thing. Or at least a thing reserved to REAL creatives.

I start stressing out big time.

Trying to SCAMP or write stuff down.

Still, nothing of value comes.

Every single idea is basic at best.

I go to bedroom.

Put my head against the pillow to limit my airflow.

This usually helps me have a flash of brilliance,

But when choking myself into having ideas doesn’t work…

I fall into a despair nap.

I wallow in self-pity until I feel so sorry for myself that I make a decisive move to the living room.

I fire up my computer and tell myself’

‘This time I’ll get it right’

‘You’re not a piece of shit’

‘We’ll think of something sick.’

Yet again, ZILCH. ZILCH ZILCH.

The cycle will go on until a deadline approaches.

As I inch ever closer to the cut-off date, I know I have to come up with something. Or they’ll find out I’m a hack. God knows, I can’t let that happen.

And so… I drag myself out of ‘The Drought’. Anxiety subsides.

I start crafting and thinking properly.

A bit later, I’ll turn into an absolute work horse.

Churning out work like an absolute madman.

I’m in the sausage factory and nothing can stop me.

I hit the deadline with flying colors.

And then… I slightly sink back into ‘The Drought’.

It’s hell all over again.

Now, if I could only stay in the sausage factory for longer...