The Superhabit of Creativity
A Few Observations from Yours Truly (With Assistance from Jeeves, Naturally)
Creativity is the superhabit of generating new information by making new connections between existing ideas. Many people think of creativity as a gift, and say things like “I’m not very creative.” But creativity is a habit, which anyone can acquire through regular practice.
In Superhabits (p. 154-155), I described the approach that JK Rowling used to write her Harry Potter novels. Here I’ll describe a similar approach used by another great English writer, one of my favorites of all time. PG Wodehouse is the author of the delightful stories about Jeeves the butler.
Just for fun (and with generous assistance from ChatGPT), this article is narrated by Wodehouse’s protagonist, Bertie Wooster…
Now, I don’t generally go in for all this deep thinking and self-improvement business. It tends to lead to early mornings, difficult books, and the sort of chaps who recommend “cold plunges” and “mindfulness,” neither of which sound remotely enjoyable. But even a fellow of my general carefree disposition can appreciate the importance of a spot of creativity, especially when one finds oneself in a pickle (as one so often does).
And if one is looking for a true master of the creative arts, one needn’t look much further than that absolute corker of a brainbox, P.G. Wodehouse. Old Plum, as he was known to his pals, had creativity positively oozing out of his pores—but not in the chaotic, absent-minded-professor sort of way. No, he had the whole business down to a fine science.
Now, if I were left to my own devices, I’d likely take the artistic approach of waiting for inspiration while reclining at the Drones Club with a restorative snifter. But Jeeves, that paragon of order and intellect, assures me that creativity is not a thing one simply waits for like the next round of cocktails—it must be cultivated, nurtured, and encouraged to put in regular appearances. And if one wants to be a true maestro of creative brilliance, there are lessons to be learned from Wodehouse’s methods.
Step One: Prepare the Groundwork (Or, Do the Heavy Lifting Beforehand So You Can Coast Later)
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Preparation? That sounds rather like work.” And yes, I’ll admit that on the face of it, the notion of scribbling 400 pages of notes before writing a single word sounds like the sort of thing that might be foisted upon an unsuspecting schoolboy by a particularly sadistic headmaster.
But this, Jeeves informs me, is the very essence of creative brilliance—the art of making connections before you actually need them. Wodehouse spent months mapping out his plots, ensuring that by the time he actually got down to writing, he wasn’t floundering about like a newt who has misplaced his spectacles.
Lesson: If you want to be frightfully good at something, don’t wait for inspiration to wallop you over the head. Do the legwork in advance, and your future self will thank you. Preferably with a stiff drink.
Step Two: Stick to a Routine (Yes, I Know. But It Works.)
I’m generally opposed to anything that involves waking up early, keeping a schedule, or—heaven forbid—doing something every single day. That’s the sort of thinking that leads to personal trainers and people who refuse to eat gluten. But, alas, Wodehouse was rather big on consistency, and the results speak for themselves.
He wrote every single day — his best time was from four to seven p.m. — producing thousands of words with the regularity of Aunt Agatha issuing dire warnings about my future. Rather than waiting for the muse to pop in unannounced, he ensured she had a standing appointment.
Jeeves, when consulted on the matter, nodded approvingly and muttered something about the “habitual conditioning of the creative faculties,” which I assume means that if one simply shows up and does the thing at the same time every day, the brain eventually gets the hint and stops dragging its feet.
Lesson: Set a fixed time for your creative pursuits. Stick to it. And if possible, ensure that said time falls well before cocktail hour.
Step Three: Refine, Refine, and Then Refine Again
Wodehouse may have written in a breezy and effortless style, but getting to that point took an absolute truckload of polishing. He was not the sort of chap to dash off a few paragraphs and call it a day. No, he revised tirelessly, tweaking every sentence until it had the precise sparkle and fizz of a well-mixed gin and tonic.
This, I must admit, is where I tend to falter. My usual approach to problem-solving is to flee the scene before things get out of hand. But Wodehouse? No, he stayed and worked the thing over until it was positively purring.
Jeeves himself operates on much the same principle—no problem too small for a bit of extra fine-tuning, no plan so harebrained that it cannot be made just a touch more brilliant with the right adjustments.
Lesson: If you want your creative output to truly shine, don’t settle for the first draft. Keep at it. Sharpen the edges. Give it the full Jeeves treatment.
Step Four: Capture Ideas (Before They Flee Into the Night)
If I had a tenner for every bright idea I’ve forgotten, I’d have Jeeves invest the lot and be collecting a tidy sum in interest, which he would no doubt insist I put to sensible use. Wodehouse, on the other hand, was a collector of ideas, keeping notebooks filled with snippets of dialogue, plot twists, and character quirks that he could dip into whenever needed.
The man never let a good notion go to waste. Every idea had a proper place, ready to be dusted off and cleverly repurposed at the right moment. This, Jeeves tells me, is an absolute must for those who wish to be ceaselessly creative without wearing out the old bean.
Lesson: Keep a notebook, a file, or even a Jeeves of your own—somewhere or someone to store and retrieve your best ideas at a moment’s notice.
Final Thoughts (Or, Why This Method is Preferable to Hoping for the Best)
The long and short of it, old fruit, is that creativity isn’t some mystical force that visits the worthy and ignores the rest of us. It’s a habit, a system, a thing one can develop through sheer force of well-planned routine.
Old Plum didn’t wait for inspiration—he engineered it. He built a structure that guaranteed creative brilliance, and he stuck to it with the sort of discipline normally associated with nannies and the Queen’s Guard.
So if you, like myself, have been known to dabble in the creative arts but find yourself lacking in the necessary spark from time to time, take a leaf out of Wodehouse’s book. Prepare. Show up regularly. Polish your work until it gleams. Keep your ideas stored safely.
And, above all else, when in doubt—don’t wait for inspiration. Give it a proper invitation and a fixed time to arrive.
(And if you need more help, get the GrowVirtue app, for cultivating creativity and dozens of other superhabits).
Sources:
https://www.theparisreview.org/interviews/3773/the-art-of-fiction-no-60-p-g-wodehouse
https://mtmg.wordpress.com/2008/11/27/writing-tips-from-pg-wodehouse-and-a-contrast/