5 Creativity Myths and How to Recover from Them: Myth No. 2

Jan 16
4 min read

Myth No. 1 has been busted. To recap:

Creativity is not magic.

It is a muscle.

Which we have declared good news, because that means creativity can be trained. We’re not stuck with “what we got” or “what we don’t got.” We can work it wherever we start, and we can train our creative muscles into something we never thought was possible.

Mini pep talk complete, it’s time to bust our second myth.

Myth No. 2: Creativity belongs in artsy jobs,

not strategic ones.

I told you last week about my Have and Have-Nots theory: the idea that many of us have boxed creativity in as an elusive skill that landed on some people and completely missed others.

Ironically, that’s a problem for everyone.

The Haves think they don’t need to work their creative muscles very hard.

The Have-Nots write themselves off from the start.

In one fell swoop, the illusion of creativity as magic eradicates the need for responsible stewardship. And that is no bueno.

I’m rehashing these ideas because they directly tie into this second myth we’re teasing out.

Just like we’ve treated creativity as magic, we’ve also tossed it into a box where it belongs exclusively—and that word matters—in the arts.

And don’t get me wrong. Obviously, it does belong there.

The problem is the exclusivity. Not so sold on that part.

If creativity is only relevant on stage, in a frame, or behind a mic, then entire professions get written off as “not creative.” And when that happens, the skill sets of the people in those professions stay underdeveloped.

Let’s get very, very specific.

Creativity Where You Least Expect It

I know a lot of people in the medical field. My parents are both doctors, one of my closest friends is in med school, and my boyfriend is an EMS worker/hospital nurse. You could say I’m surrounded. Not by choice. But hey—I’ll take it.

Ambulances parked outside a hospital with trees lining the building. A "Exit Only" sign is visible. The scene is calm and orderly.

Here’s what I’ve learned from watching and listening to them:

Taking care of people’s medical needs requires creativity.

Not creativity around insurance or how people get their meds (come on now—we’re not doing Breaking Bad).

But it does take creativity—creative thinking—to develop effective physiological treatment plans, to sift through seemingly disconnected symptoms and connect them into a coherent diagnosis. It takes curiosity to ask good questions, to fill in someone’s backstory, and to help resolve perplexing medical cases.

And as a veteran physical therapy patient, I can tell you this: when it comes to orthopedic care—tendonitis, ACL reconstruction, et al.—effective treatment often requires experimentation.

And if you really think about it…

Every treatment plan we now call "established" was once an experiment.

That means someone went out on a limb.

Someone connected dots that hadn’t been connected before.

Someone tried.

Someone thought.

Someone analyzed—and then adjusted.

That's creativity.

Cool. But, what's the Point?

You might be thinking: If all this happens automatically, and we don’t label it creativity… does it really matter?

Are we splitting hairs just to create content?

Or are we actually getting somewhere?

I think we’re getting somewhere. And here’s why.

The Cost of Quitting Before You Start

I’ve watched people with “non-artsy” jobs look down on themselves, talk down to themselves, and dismiss themselves because they don’t fall into a category of work they’ve labeled “creative.”

I’ve seen them:

Give up on side hustles
Ignore the beauty in their "hobbies"
Abandon books they could have written
Bail on passion projects

All because they spend their 9–5 in accounting, running staff meetings, caring for patients, lifting weights, or working in the trades.

So no. I don’t think we’re splitting hairs.

I think we’re tapping into something we don't think a lot about, but that doesn't mean it's not impacting us. (Whether you think about it or not, gravity is still doing its thing.)

When creativity belongs only in artsy jobs, we’re essentially saying, “It cannot belong anywhere else.”

We stop advocating for our ideas.

We don’t write.

We don’t innovate.

We don’t take risks or experiment.

We just say, “I’m not like that.”

And we stay buried in our bunker of what’s familiar.

A Final (Quasi) Pep Talk

If you don’t work in an “artsy” job—guess what? You still have creativity inside you.

Maybe it doesn’t show up at work in a way you’d label correctly. Maybe it shows up as:

Problem-solving
Innovation (creating a new product, building a new program, or updating an outdated one)
Running an investor meeting
Figuring out what the heck to do with AI—and where it fits into your work
Caring for patients
Teaching a room full of irritable high schoolers

Whatever. It. Is.

I guarantee creativity is in there somewhere.

I guarantee creativity is in there, somewhere. And if you’re already using your creative muscles daily, how much more effective could you be in your strategic job if you strengthened them intentionally?

Just a thought.

More than anything, I hope this encourages you. We’re not very good at seeing the value in ourselves or our work. And we tend to beat ourselves up here because we’ve shoved creativity into boxes it was never meant to live in.

Consider this your salute from afar. Fight for your creativity. It matters.

And sometimes, believing it matters starts with a small nudge in the right direction.

The Recovery Plan (That's Not a Recipe)

A lot of recovery starts with reflection. We're leaning heavily into that on this. Plus a few specific to-do's.

Would you consider your work "artsy" or not so much?
Where are you using your creativity muscles in what you do, right now? Make a list of at least 5 specific ways. You might surprise yourself when you do.
Name one creative project you talked yourself out of. Come on. You know what I mean. It was an internal dream that was quickly followed with, "But I can't do that." Just write it down and be honest with yourself.
Looking ahead, name one problem in your life (it can be at work, in school, or heck...connected to grocery shopping), where you want to intentionally tap into your creative muscles to help solve it. It doesn't have to be over the top complicated. It just has to be intentional.