# The Creative Mind

After I finished a draft, I emerged from my cocoon of grief, wiped the ice chips off my body, and wasn’t prone to crying in the middle of the street anymore. I left it all on the page.

Every creative knows that feeling. We also know it's just part of the business. An occupational hazard. You pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move on. But for some, that one little bee sting feels more like a thousand angry hornets.

I asked if they would show me that this was in­deed real by do­ing a chore­o­graphed dance of some sort. Im­me­di­ate­ly, I was treat­ed to an in­cred­i­ble version of the Broad­way Hit Chica­go. The play was nev­er crisper or tighter or more brazen.

I’m not necessarily interested in partying with people who are only doing it out of obligation or cause “it’s the thing to do.” I want people who are committed. Don’t show up to the Super Bowl asking “Who’s playing?”, or “What’s this about again?”