Sometimes I feel a surge of creativity. It’s a shame not to use this state to create something remarkable. However, once I sit down to my desk trying to write some words or code, I realize that I should do this in a particular way. Why? Because it’s how I use to do these things. And you know what? The form may limit you.

If I want to write about something, I usually don’t care about images, text decorations, even a title. The content is valuable, whereas the rest is supportive. But I took a form, that needs the title, sometimes images and one or two paragraphs of introduction. I have to select the appropriate category and tags. I analyze how the text fits the rest of the topics. Moreover, I decided to write in English, whereas it would be much easier for me to write in Polish.

I take a lot of notes using old-school plaintext. To be able to find them sometime in the future, I have to tag them and link to other entries. Sometimes it’s too much because the only thing I need to is to write something down.

I summary almost every book I read. I don’t reach for the next one until I write down conclusions from the one I currently read.

The form is also behaviour.

Sometimes I need to keep something online, but I don’t use public cloud services. Because of that, I have to put extra effort to, e.g. to keep my files in sync between my devices or to back up my most important data¹.

For developers: imagine, that client requests a small feature, probably one-off, but you need to write a few extra classes to fit it into your solid, object-oriented code.

This list may have no end. The form mentioned above – a set of rules, choices and good practices – is sometimes restrictive and kills the creative process. But we need to establish it. Otherwise, we’d drown in the ocean of inconsistent work surrounded by loosely floated pieces of information. The form gives cohesion and personal character to your work.

The form may limit you. When it happens, change the form.

Featured photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash.