Throughout our house, you’ll find them; in my nook of an office, or the cupboard under the stairs, probaby stuffed into the storage boxes in the garage, and more than a few stacked on the corner of my desk. Notebooks: scattered like breadcrumbs through the rooms and across the years, each one a snapshot of busyness captured on paper.
A quick scan through these pages reveals daily to-do lists, hurried reminders, fleeting thoughts, and ideas that either became something or faded into the background noise of life. It’s a habit I’ve held onto, often wondering if one day I’ll look back and see something profound—or if, in truth, I’ll just find a life spent filling every minute with something.
These pages might look productive, but here’s the question we wrestle with often: is busyness the same as productivity? Like many, we’re entangled in the day-to-day tasks that need doing but wonder how much time is left for the work that really matters. If we’re honest, sometimes it feels like we’re fighting a losing battle with the demands of everyday life, drowning under a sea of “to-dos” that sap away the energy we’d rather invest in creative pursuits.
We’ve all heard that productivity requires focused, uninterrupted time, but life doesn’t always cooperate. Family needs, work obligations, and unexpected tasks often interrupt the flow, pulling us back to the surface just as we start to sink into deep work. It’s a struggle to prioritise our creative work when there’s always something demanding immediate attention.
The Illusion of Accomplishment
It’s a tricky thing, this difference between being busy and being productive. You can fill a notebook with completed tasks, then close it with satisfaction, thinking you’ve accomplished a lot. But if we pause and ask ourselves, “Was any of this what I truly wanted to do?” the answer often brings discomfort. It’s one thing to finish a day with a sense of relief; it’s another to finish with a sense of fulfillment.
In the context of creativity, true productivity means pushing through the surface noise to reach the deeper, more rewarding work—the kind of work that takes hours to warm up to and often involves nothing visibly “productive.” In fact, creative work often appears unproductive on the surface. You can spend two hours walking around the house, muttering to yourself, seemingly doing nothing—only to suddenly find clarity in a character’s voice or plot twist you’ve been trying to nail down for weeks.
That’s why we talk about the importance of deep work, which isn’t something you can conjure up on command. For us, productive deep work can look like a morning filled with music and lyrics scattered around, the whole day arranged so that everything else must wait until that essential creative time is finished. Yet, often that’s easier said than done. It’s like walking on a tightrope between honoring that creative calling and tending to the practical aspects of our lives.
Busyness is a Barrier
There’s something safe about being busy. Busyness lets you feel like you’re moving forward without forcing you to face the daunting question of whether you’re actually moving toward something that matters. Busy is safe because it’s familiar. It’s the necessary errands, the appointments, the responsibilities that you can’t ignore. But when we use busyness as a shield, it prevents us from creating something meaningful. We fill our days with the constant hum of tasks, and soon the creative work that fills us starts to feel like just another to-do.
In our house, this is a well-worn pattern. There’s always something urgent to take care of, from orthodontist appointments to grocery runs. Then there’s the housework and, of course, the unplanned emergencies that throw everything else off track. Somewhere in the gaps, we hope to carve out creative time, but often that time is too small or too broken up to lead anywhere substantial.
Deep Work and the Myth of the Perfect Day
Ironically, my deepest, most productive days didn’t happen on “perfect days.” Instead, they came from prioritising art in moments when life was anything but organised. There was a stretch of mornings when I’d wake up before anyone else, scribbling character sketches, snippets of dialogue, or just soaking in the quiet moments as the world woke up around me. Those small windows felt like my soul stretching, as if giving myself to the page meant I could carry that sense of fulfilment throughout the day.
But why are those times so hard to recreate? Life doesn’t exactly offer a “pause” button, and there are days when my intentions to write or compose are bulldozed by appointments, family obligations, and seemingly endless to-dos. I’ve tried organising my time: Monday is “Admin Day,” a day to tackle household tasks and family needs so I can free up space later in the week. But somehow, those urgent things—appointments, emails, unexpected errands—still seep into those precious hours meant for creative work.
Finding Flow in a Sea of Distraction
For us, reclaiming time for creativity isn’t just about squeezing it into the gaps; it’s about creating space, even if that means redefining what “productivity” looks like. Creativity rarely arrives on a tight schedule or fits neatly between other responsibilities. Often, the real magic happens after a few hours of what appears to be aimless work—the endless brainstorming, the half-formed ideas. But to get there, you have to commit the time upfront, even if it doesn’t look productive.
In the end, though, the difference between busyness and productivity isn’t just about time management. It’s about valuing the work that brings purpose and satisfaction, even if it doesn’t immediately yield measurable results. Creativity takes time, focus, and often a bit of wandering around. It’s as much about allowing yourself to get lost as it is about finding something meaningful in the end.
The Challenge of Letting Go
Perhaps the hardest part of all is letting go of the urge to do it all. Sometimes, you simply can’t manage every task, can’t be everything to everyone, and can’t tick every box on the list. That’s where being busy gives the illusion of productivity. But as we learn to let go, we discover that creative work doesn’t come from staying busy—it comes from carving out time for ourselves and making space for the kind of work that isn’t measured by how many tasks we can cross off.
Ultimately, creating art, writing a novel, making music—these are the things that drive us, even if they’re not the things that demand our attention every day. So maybe it’s not about finding the perfect balance but rather about honoring the work that really matters. We don’t have to wait for the perfect day or the perfectly empty schedule to make time for it.
Prioritising What Matters
The reality is that if we don’t prioritise creative work, nobody else will. Life will continue to fill every corner of our days with demands, appointments, and unforeseen tasks. If we keep pushing our creative work to the edges, it’ll remain there, sidelined by busyness. So, we remind ourselves to take the plunge, even if the schedule is packed, even if it’s messy. Because sometimes, the act of prioritising creativity is the only way to get anything meaningful done at all.
Creating the Pain In The Arts podcast has been a form of accountability for Lyndon and me, a reminder to ourselves and each other of what we’re really trying to achieve. It’s one more way to stay focused on the art that matters to us, to keep that spark alive even amid the chaos. We don’t have all the answers—far from it. But by carving out time to talk about it, maybe we’ll get closer to figuring out what works and find ways to let creativity take the lead, even if it’s just one messy, beautiful step at a time.
