The Creative Starter.    

On the top shelf of my refrigerator sits a small glass jar containing George IV.  George IV is a sourdough starter, who, as the name implies, descends from a short line of Georges, none of which sadly made it to the finish line. 

George IV has, I can proudly attest, and he’s produced a quite respectable first loaf.  Today is Sunday, which means in a little while I’ll have to feed him, even though he’ll not be doing much this week in the baking sense, but if he’s not fed weekly he’ll lose his flavour and eventually lose his ability to ‘start’ any future baking. 

I’ve been thinking about George IV and his forebearers recently in non-culinary ways.  It’s funny how it’s become more accepted, and praised really, that the art of baking bread takes time.  For years, we’ve found ways to cut down on production, shorten the proving time, adding in bits to make the end product look and taste more enticing but all the while cutting out the goodness that comes from the process.  

Sometimes I think as creatives we can fall into this trap of focussing on the outcome and forgetting about the process.  Because creativity is a process, it’s not a production line.  Most creatives that I know love being in the zone – that feeling of being totally engrossed in what you are doing, writing without editing, painting without hesitation, dancing with abandon.  No matter how uplifting the feeling is when you’re in it, when we come out of it, the critic is usually waiting.  What’s this?  That looks terrible, no one would ever want to read this rubbish?  We go immediately from having enjoyed the process to focussing on the outcome.  

When a baker puts a loaf in the oven which they have dedicated time and attention to they are hopeful that it will come out looking good and tasting amazing but they are also well aware that there are still elements beyond their control.  If at the end of the 25 minutes, the oven opens and the bread looks, smells and tastes amazing, the baker will be pleased.  If the bread has burnt or flopped or failed to rise, the baker will be disappointed but he or she is unlikely to give up baking all together, or think they are somehow less of a baker because the bread didn’t rise. 

So what can creatives learn from baking sourdough? 

1. Create a Starter – when you are about to embark on your sourdough journey, you need a good starter.  You can be gifted a starter from someone else, which you will then take into your care and need to look after.  You can also choose to create a starter from scratch.  Creating a starter is easy in technical terms – all it requires is flour, water and a jar.  It does however require a bit of discipline.  Your starter needs to be fed at the same time every day.  It needs to be kept in a comfortable environment.  In other words, it needs a bit of your love and attention every day in order to thrive.  If you can give that to a bit of flour and water, think what would happen if you could give that to your creative self. 
2. Enjoy the Process – it’s not a long leap to assume that writers love to write.  It’s not something people choose to do because they’re told to or because of some other outcome – eg there aren’t many parents out there telling their children to go to university to become writers.  But so many writers I know (including myself) are so caught up in the outcome, the end result, that we forget to enjoy the process.  
3. Give it time – baking sourdough requires patience.  It doesn’t happen quickly, it takes days to produce even a basic loaf.  Each step in and of itself is not hard but it takes time. You can’t rush from one step to the other or it simply won’t work.  Time is an essential ingredient in baking sourdough.  The same is true for your creative pursuits, they need time to develop, and sometimes time to rest. 
4. Use the right conditions – starters need to be nurtured in the right environment.  They are kept warm while growing and then cooler when dormant.  Your dough, while it’s proving, also needs to be kept at the right temperature.  Creating the right conditions are an integral part of the baking process along the way, not just at the final stage. 
5. Learn from what worked and what didn’t – did your bread come out perfect?  Great, enjoy.  Did it not rise the way you expected?  Great, what can you learn from that?  Does it not taste the way you’d hoped?  Perfect, how can you change that?  No baker expects a perfect loaf every time.  But each bake is an opportunity to learn, to hone, to improve. 

If you’re inspired to get to work on your own creative starter then we’d love you to join our community.  Each week we’ll have more creative inspiration designed to get you in the mindset to unleash your inner creator.  

Until then, I’m off to feed George IV.