This is an excerpt from my new book: MINDBLOWN: Unlock Your Creative Genius by Bridging Science and Magic. In my book, I write about the creative process and my three steps, The Dream, The Sandbox, and The Story. The excerpt refers to The Sandbox, where we develop our ideas.
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We now have arrived at step two—The Sandbox. This is where we test our creative limits. It doesn’t surprise us that creativity comes with real-world limitations, such as deadlines, human resources, and budget. For some of us, this is the part when you see your creativity soar—forcing us to budget time and resources to maximize our project. This is the spreadsheet part of creativity where we manage constraints.
Believe it or not, constraints can have the potential to help us do our best work. The Ancient Greek philosopher Plato was right when he said, “Necessity is the mother of invention.” Often, it is the limits, constraints, and needs of the moment that launch our creativity. We may even voluntarily impose limitations, like setting a deadline or picking only two colors for a graphic design. One thing a creative genius understands is limits lead to innovation.
Self-imposed limits
Bennett Cerf served as editor of the famous children’s author, Dr. Seuss. After Dr. Seuss published the 225-word book, The Cat in the Hat, Cerf made a legendary fifty-dollar bet, challenging Dr. Seuss to write an even shorter book. The constraint was to author a book containing only fifty words. The Cat in the Hat was wildly successful with 225 words. So, what could happen with a book with less? Obviously, Cerf didn’t fear losing his fifty dollars. He hoped to publish an even more successful book.
Writing The Cat in the Hat with 225 words was remarkably arduous work for Dr. Seuss. So, following up with one shorter would be even harder. However, Theodor Seuss Geisel, the legal name for Dr. Seuss, agreed. A fifty-dollar bet brought the children’s literary masterpiece Green Eggs and Ham into the world. With exactly fifty words in the entire book, it was a hit and helped generations of children learn to read. It’s fair to say its legacy will endure.
The Sandbox—or set of limits—Dr. Seuss worked within, constrained him to fifty words. The smaller word count led to innovation. The creative genius within us embraces limitations, working with the cards dealt to us. To do this, we agree not to fight the universe or argue against the reality of physics. There are twenty-four hours in a day. If we resist that, we lose all day long. So, defining The Sandbox—or the limitations surrounding our work—empowers us. We are free to innovate when we know the walls, boundaries, or constraints that outline our creative playground. And it’s true for us as well as for our team.
Externally imposed limitations
I have learned that it’s not about being outside the box that makes someone creative. It’s about finding out the shape and size of the box. Why? Because sometimes limits impose themselves on us. We learn to identify and deal with them. The Sandbox develops our work within constraints. To find these, we question norms and conventions, which may risk retribution from gatekeepers. Unafraid, we travel to the edge of the box, daring to push boundaries. We learn to act like a toddler.
No earthly creature is more tenacious at challenging boundaries than the toddler. It’s true. Three-year-olds can be tyrants. If you don’t believe me, just say “no” to one, and you’ll find out quickly. As a race, we humans love to push the limits. As a result, our inner toddler contains espresso-potent angst toward boundaries—especially ones imposed on us.
When I was a parent to small children, imposing limitations made my kids feel safe. But they hated them. For example, young kids must learn that tantrums in the grocery store aisle are not acceptable. Yet, they will want to see how many tantrums they can perform or how loud their shrill screams carry before they reach the wall of parental backlash.
However painful this period of parenting may be, it sets up the confidence kids will have later when they face rules and the realities they bring. Kids need to know they can run and use noisy voices at the local playground—just not in the grocery aisle. Even playgrounds have limits, however, with clear fences and boundaries. What makes play fun isn’t that it is limitless. It’s because of the constraints we identify, like the fenced-in playground. Finding the limitations and working within them will not always be fun. But limits indeed contain fun, just like a playground, a golf course, a racetrack, or a card table.
We must admit it. Constraints make life difficult. Even as a successful author, Geisel reportedly agonized over the increasingly smaller limitations his editor put on him. For Dr. Seuss, the word count of his books constrained him—thanks to the coaxing of his editor. For us, it could be the struggle to fit within schedules, cultural barriers, or a company’s policy manual. Accepting limitations discovered in The Sandbox isn’t a recipe for comfort, after all. All our worthy endeavors must endure in the physical universe. So, creative magic must exist within time and space, not just in our imagination.
Creative people want boundaries?
A few years ago, I presented a talk on my idea, Creativity in Three Steps, to a boardroom of leaders. During my talk about The Sandbox constraints, a successful business executive raised his hand and asked, “Rich, I thought creatives didn’t want boundaries?” His look of shock at my assertions showed his sincere disbelief. Who could blame him? Management often feels the wrath of the creatives on their team when they cut the budget, shorten the deadline, or cancel the event. Money and resources are never enough for an ambitious creative. At least, that is the message the executive suite often hears. The profit-and-loss sheet is foreign to the artistic temperament and ambitious entrepreneur alike. But what if The Sandbox frees us through the limits we identify there? What if we find creative genius by living inside of the box instead of outside of it?
My executive friend believed the popular myth that artists want no boundaries, rules, or limits. However, creatives—whether robots or wizards—don’t enjoy constraints. Sometimes the laws of physics or market demand limit us. We misread the boundary lines at our own peril. Limits can cause migraines, frustrate flow, and challenge motivation. But like Dr. Seuss, we agree to be bound by them. We find we can’t fight the universe at every turn. Like the toddler, we eventually learn that our tantrum brought us peace—the peace in knowing where the fences are.
If we take away limits, paralysis appears. No greater panic exists than when you ask an artist to create without a deadline or budget. So, we find our creative genius and clarify the process by asking, “What are my limitations?” It may seem negative to ask, but it potentially brings us freedom. Without the boundaries of The Sandbox, creatives feel overwhelmed with competing thoughts, trying to locate the edges. If your artist is a diva, you’ve just invited massive tantrums. As fun as that might be to watch, important work is at stake.
