I've Never Had Time to Be Creative

CREATIVITY
Written By Cyndi Burt

A managing director sat in my office, reviewing her retirement portfolio. Everything was in order—finances, succession, even a property in the Cotswolds. Then, almost as an afterthought, she mentioned a dusty violin in her attic.

"I played until university," she said quietly. "Haven't touched it in thirty-seven years."

The silence that followed told me everything. This wasn't about a violin. This was about parts of herself she'd packed away for "later." And later had finally arrived.

The Postponement Pattern

Watch how this works:

  • "After this merger, I'll paint again"

  • "Once I make partner, I'll write"

  • "When things calm down, I'll play music"

  • "In retirement, I'll be creative"

Forty years later, the violin is still in the attic. But here's what's interesting—it's not really about time. It never was.

Permission Structures

Raymond Chandler, the oil company executive turned crime novelist, didn't publish his first novel until 51. The chef and author Julia Child was a government intelligence officer before she found cooking in midlife. Before he was an actor, Alan Rickman was designing graphics and running his own company.

They didn't wait for the right time. Instead they gave themselves permission to think about themselves in new ways.

"I realised I was waiting for someone to tell me it was okay," the managing director reflected. "To say my quarterly reports were good enough that I'd earned the right do something else."

The Hidden Creativity

The truth? You've been creative all along. Every strategic pivot, every team you built from scratch, every impossible problem you solved—creativity in a business setting.

"I spent decades creating value," one CEO told me. "Now I'm curious about creating for no reason at all. It's terrifying. And thrilling."

Small Permissions

That managing director? She didn't sign up for the London Symphony. She just took the violin out of its case. Tuned it. Played one scale. Badly.

"It sounded awful," she laughed. "I loved every minute."

Six months later, she plays every morning. Still not well. But something has shifted—not in her schedule, but in her relationship with who she's allowed to be.

What's waiting in your attic? Sometimes the biggest transition starts with the smallest permission.

References:

Ready to go further?

These resources offer valuable perspectives, but nothing replaces a thoughtful conversation about your specific situation.

Have a resource that's helped you? I'd love to hear about it. Drop me an EMAIL.

Cyndi Burt https://www.cynthiaburt.com
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The Creative Identity Crisis