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In 1991, creativity came easy. I spent afternoons building worlds out of Legos, staging crossovers between G.I. Joes (Snake Eyes was my favorite) and Ninja Turtles (gotta go with Leo), and inventing fake TV shows with my brothers—Strike Force, Fight Tonight!: complete with homemade theme songs.
Nobody told us it was “too much.” Nobody said it was silly. We just made things because the urge was there. Because there were stories in our heads and a desire for play.
I think about that kid a lot now. The one who built worlds out of boredom and believed every idea was worth trying. He wasn’t worried about whether it was marketable or “made sense.” He just built.
As an adult, I still write that way.
There are no stupid ideas— just good sentences and better sentences. I try to absorb the good stuff— books, music, silence— and let it rearrange my thinking, then assemble the pieces into something only I could have imagined. That’s what the kid version of me would’ve done.
Creativity isn’t about looking forward. It’s about remembering. That child in the photo wasn’t a phase.
He was the compass.
BONUS SONG
DRAWING
