Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

“I happen to believe we are all walking repositories of buried treasure. I believe this is one of the oldest and most generous tricks the universe plays on us human beings, both for its own amusement and for ours. The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them. The hunt to uncover those jewels—that’s creative living. The courage to go on that hunt in the first place—that’s what separates a mundane existence from a more enchanted one. The often surprising results of that hunt—that’s what I call Big Magic.”

Gilbert hints at her idea of the trickster that she discusses later in the book when claiming that the universe plays tricks on people. Here, the universe itself is a trickster who enjoys play. This relates to her suggestion that creatives have a trickster persona, as well as The Importance of Play and Curiosity. By stating that ideas are buried within us, she contradicts her idea that inspiration is separate from humans, an example of Apparent Contradictions in the Creative Process. This is also her first mention of “Big Magic,” which she defines as the results of creative living.

“Ideas spend eternity swirling around us, searching for available and willing human partners [...] When an idea thinks it as found somebody—say, you—who might be able to bring it into the world, the idea will pay you a visit. It will try to get your attention.”

Gilbert personifies abstract ideas as humanlike; they “visit” people and try to get their “attention.” By personifying ideas, Gilbert explores the theme of Creativity as Magical, where ideas exist separately from humans and have their own consciousness, a human quality.

“She would be out working in the fields when she would sometimes hear a poem coming toward her—hear it rushing across the landscape at her, like a galloping horse. Whenever this happened, she knew exactly what she had to do next: she would ‘run like hell’ toward the house, trying to stay ahead of the poem, hoping to get to a piece of paper and a pencil fast enough to catch it.”

Here, Gilbert uses a simile, where she compares a poem to “a galloping horse.” She personifies the poem with sentient qualities, namely the ability to “rush” and escape the poet. The poem existed on its own, looked for someone to hold on to it, and Stone would need to write it down before it escaped her.

“I believe we are all capable at times of brushing up against a sense of mystery and inspiration in our lives.”

Gilbert explains that creativity is universally accessible, rather than being reserved only for the arts or specialists. This differs from other definitions of creativity that require knowledge in a specific field and validation from experts. Gilbert’s version of creativity emphasizes personal creativity. In contrast, others like Csíkszentmihályi focus on cultural creativity, which is not accessible to everyone because it requires knowledge and validation.

“But such thinking assumes there is a ‘top’—and that reaching that top (and staying there) is the only motive one has to create. Such thinking assumes that the mysteries of inspiration operate on the same scale that we do—on a limited human scale of success and failure, of winning and losing, of comparison and competition, of commerce and reputation, of units sold and influence wielded. Such thinking assumes that you must be constantly victorious—not only against your peers, but also against an earlier version of your own poor self. Most dangerously of all, such thinking assumes that if you cannot win, then you must not continue to play.”

Gilbert addresses a typical attitude towards creating that elevates success and winning over joy. Throughout the book, she emphasizes that people should create for its own sake, to play and to enjoy oneself. She alludes to commerce and production, two things that America reveres. Because American society emphasizes success, individuals can see creativity as a competitive sport, rather than an act of love. She suggests that creativity does not “operate on the same scale that we do,” highlighting its magical quality and distinction from the human world.

“I have come to believe that my genius spends a lot of time waiting around for me—waiting to see if I’m truly serious about this line of work. I feel sometimes like my genius sits in the corner and watches me at my desk, day after day, week after week, month after month, just to be sure I really mean it, just to be sure I’m really giving this creative endeavor my wholehearted effort. When my genius is convinced that I’m not just messing around here, he may show up and offer assistance.”

Gilbert again uses personification, in this case giving her “genius” the sentient ability to watch and judge her. She separates her “genius” from herself, drawing on the Greek concept of genius derived from eudaimonia. She views her genius guide as a “he,” connecting—possibly accidentally—to the trope of the male genius.

“You do not need anybody’s permission to live a creative life.”

Gilbert’s believes that anyone can be creative, meaning that no one needs another person’s permission to create. They needn’t listen to the gatekeepers in their field or follow views of creativity that emphasize the need for knowledge, like in the systems model of creativity. Rather, creativity is universally accessible.

“The guardians of high culture will try to convince you that the arts belong only to a chosen few, but they are wrong and they are also annoying. We are all the chosen few.”

Gilbert stresses the idea that anyone can be creative, as it is part of being human. This is supported by thinkers like Csíkszentmihályi, who note how creativity is a uniquely human trait. If all humans are creative, then no one needs permission to create and no one can be excluded. However, Csíkszentmihályi would argue that one needs knowledge of a field and peer acceptance to make a true contribution to culture. In contrast, Gilbert focuses on personal creativity rather than making a cultural impact, which she sees as an unnecessary side benefit.

“Are you considering becoming a creative person? Too late, you already are one. To even call somebody ‘a creative person’ is almost laughably redundant; creativity is the hallmark of our species [...] If you’re alive, you’re a creative person. You and I and everyone you know are descended from tens of thousands of years of makers.”

Because creativity is a human trait, people build on the creativity of others. Gilbert alludes to this by noting how people are descended from generations of makers. In this way, people build on the knowledge of previous generations, drawing inspiration from the works and knowledge of those who came before. Later, she suggests that instead of a formal education, people should learn from the works of other successful artists and creatives.

“I would so much rather that you wrote a book in order to entertain yourself than to help me.”

Gilbert cautions against helping people with their work and suggests that creatives should only work for themselves, In doing so, she reinforces her view of creativity and her own working style. She writes for herself and the results don’t matter to her. This removes the burden when creating.

“By saying that you delight in your work, you will draw inspiration near. Inspiration will be grateful to hear those words coming out of your mouth, because inspiration—like all of us—appreciates being appreciated. Inspiration will overhear your pleasure, and it will send ideas to your door as a reward for your enthusiasm and your loyalty.”

This is an example of the personification that appears throughout the book. Gilbert depicts inspiration with human qualities, such as the ability to “overhear” and to be “appreciated.” The quote emphasizes the importance of enjoying one’s creative work and viewing creativity as play.

“I absolutely do believe that our artistic instincts have divine and magical origins, but that doesn’t mean we have to take it all so seriously, because—in the final analysis—I still perceive that human artistic expression is blessedly, refreshingly nonessential.”

Gilbert emphasizes The Importance of Play and Curiosity by suggesting that creatives not take creativity seriously. By arguing that artistic expression is “nonessential,” she takes away its serious implications and aims to help people feel less pressure when creating. A potential critique is that seeing the arts this way fosters policies like defunding the arts in schools or removing them altogether, or people taking arts professionals less seriously.

“His children felt fully entitled to make up songs all the time, and when they were done with them, they would toss them out [...] They never seemed to worry that the flow of ideas would dry up. They never stressed about their creativity, and they never competed against themselves; they merely lived with their inspiration, comfortably and unquestioningly.”

Gilbert refers to Tom Waits, who learned from his children to not take songwriting so seriously. Gilbert emphasizes The Importance of Play and Curiosity in allowing oneself to create. Children play for mere enjoyment, without pressure or a goal. Gilbert encourages people to treat creativity similarly.

“There’s no dishonor in having a job. What is dishonorable is scaring away your creativity by demanding that it pay for your entire existence.”

Gilbert argues that people should not quit their day job when creating. Expecting creativity to help financially creates a burden on people and hinders creativity, which requires openness, curiosity, and play, rather than the seriousness of a job.

“Perhaps creativity’s greatest mercy is this: By completely absorbing our attention for a short and magical spell, it can relieve us temporarily from the dreadful burden of being who we are.”

Creativity, which is playful and nonserious, can take people away from their worries. People set aside their everyday lives and become immersed in their creative projects, much like the concept of flow. Gilbert refers to magic again, reflecting her overall argument about inspiration and the idea of Creativity as Magical.

“And while I’ve always believed in magical thinking, I wasn’t a child either; I knew that wishing would not make it so. Talent might not make it so, either. Dedication might not make it so. Even amazing professional contacts—which I didn’t have, in any case—might not make it so.”

Gilbert acknowledges her tendency towards magical thinking when it comes to creativity, while recognizing that magic can only take her so far when writing. She has decided to become dedicated to working hard, the one area she can control. This exemplifies Apparent Contradictions in the Creative Process, which can be both magical and involve hard work.

“So you must keep trying. You must keep calling out in those dark woods for your own Big Magic. You must search tirelessly and faithfully, hoping against hope to someday experience that divine of creative communion—either for the first time or one more time.”

Gilbert’s advice relates to the story of how the same magazine rejected her work and then accepted her. The relates to an overall point, which is that people should persist in their endeavors. She stresses that persistence and Big Magic work together. Only with persistence can Big Magic happen.

She also refers to creativity in the context of the divine, again making creativity something separate from and bigger than life. Here, she stresses its sacred qualities, using the word “divine.” 

“Too many artists still believe that anguish is the only truly authentic emotional experience.”

Gilbert challenges a societal idea about artists, that they are suffering and tortured. One of her overall goals in the book is to challenge common ideas about creativity. She argues that suffering does not create a more authentic experience or a better ability to create. This links to her earlier discussion of authenticity in Part 3; authenticity is part of one’s individuality, no matter what one’s experience is, with or without suffering.

“Why would your creativity not love you? It came to you, didn’t it? It drew itself near. It worked itself into you, asking for your attention and your devotion. It filled you with the desire to make and do interesting things. Creativity wanted a relationship with you. That must be for a reason, right?”

Gilbert personifies creativity, imbuing it with the human ability to love and desire a relationship with a person. She argues that creativity does not ask for suffering because it wants people to create; ideas desire expression and do not want a person to suffer.

“If destiny didn’t want me to be a writer, I figure, then it shouldn’t have made me one.”

The above quote personifies fate, giving it the human quality to want and to make human beings like Gilbert into authors. Her arguments blend magical ideas with more rational ones like hard work, illustrating the paradoxical way creativity works.

“It’s just that inspiration comes from another world, you see, and it speaks a language entirely unlike my own, so sometimes we have trouble understanding each other. But inspiration is still sitting there right beside me, and it is trying. Inspiration is sending me messages in every form it can.”

Gilbert personifies inspiration by saying that it sits with her, speaks, and transmits messages. She illustrates how she has a relationship with inspiration and that she can trust that it will be there for her. This reflects her overall concept of being open to inspiration.

“Isn’t if funny how sometimes things work and other times they don’t? Sometimes I think that the difference between a tormented creative life and a tranquil creative life is nothing more than the difference between the word awful and the word interesting. Interesting outcomes, after all, are just awful outcomes with the volume of drama turned way down.”

Gilbert argues that people should view their work as interesting when things get difficult. This reflects her earlier idea, that one should be curious when working. She emphasizes how it’s all about perspective; viewing a bad outcome with a curious perspective makes it interesting, while being upset about a bad outcome makes it horrific. In this way, she encourages people to have a more open mind when it comes to their creative output.

“As my friend Pastor Rob Bell warns: ‘Don’t rush through the experiences and circumstances that have the most capacity to transform you.’”

This quote echoes Gilbert’s advice to be persistent and reflects viewing creative work as similar to life. People will encounter difficulties in all areas of life, but these difficulties have the capacity to change them, to help them grow. Failures and difficulties in creative work have the same capacity to transform people and their work.