I taught today–a class on creative problem solving for writers. It’s a subject that I’m very passionate about and while I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not an expert on craft (POV, dialogue, setting and the like–I need THAT same sort of help myself), but I’m 100% at home on helping people dig deep to understand their own cognitive abilities. Today I spent a good 6 hours doing just that–helping writers figure out how to dig deep into their own ideas to generate more possibilities. My course is geared toward writers in progress, helping them learn new tools to further plots, characters, etc. for stories they are already working on. It’s right up my alley and part of the work I did in developing my thesis on critical and creative thinking.

Every time I teach a course like that I come out of it thinking, WOW. Not wow because I did anything in particular, but WOW because I spent so much time with other creative spirits. I learned about their books, talked about their struggles and hopefully gave them tools to help them overcome problems in their writing. I love that feeling. It’s a high that goes beyond that of the chartreuse and champagne cocktail that one of my favorite bartenders served me up tonight. It’s a high that will carry me much farther, into my own writing and creation.

After the course, when my husband was driving me home, I mentioned that I already was paid for teaching that day. When I peeked at the check after the class, I felt a sense of shock–shock at the amount, not because I wasn ‘t worth it (oh I think I am) but shock because it seems so strange to get paid for something that I LOVE so much. In my entire life I have never equated money with the things I love to do. Usually I am the one forking over the dough to do those things I love.

I’ve always been thoughtful to look for work in marketing and PR that I would enjoy and that I would be good at, but I can’t say that I have ever had a job that I would keep if I won the lottery tomorrow. Except for the type of work I did today. Teaching my own ideas and helping writers to overcome the hurdles they have in their everyday writing. And in turn, being able to spend my time in the company of creative types. Oh yeah. I would do that regardless of how much or how little someone paid me.

My husband thinks I’m crazy. Maybe I am. I think that when I touch those places I feel happy. I feel inspired by the words of others. I feel satisfied that I might have helped another writer propel themselves toward greatness. And I feel excited about sitting down at my own blank page and moving forward.

That’s MY brain on drugs.