Turn the Tap: Action Unlocks Creative Flow
Created at: August 29, 2025
Start writing, no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on. — Louis L'Amour
From Stagnation to Stream
Louis L’Amour’s image is disarmingly simple: water does not flow until the faucet is turned. Likewise, words rarely arrive before we begin to write. The act of starting—however clumsy—pressurizes the system; ideas that felt inaccessible begin to move. Waiting for inspiration, then, is like waiting for water without turning the handle: a posture of hope without the small decisive motion that makes hope useful.
Momentum Over Motivation
From this starting point, psychology suggests that action precedes enthusiasm. Behavioral activation research shows that doing a small, concrete task reduces avoidance and builds momentum. The Zeigarnik effect (Bluma Zeigarnik, 1927) adds another lever: once we open a task loop, our minds itch to complete it. Even better, if-then plans—implementation intentions (Peter Gollwitzer, 1999)—convert “someday” into triggers: if it’s 8 a.m., then I write one sentence. Momentum, not mood, carries the day.
Rituals That Open the Valve
Translating psychology into practice, creators use rituals that make starting nearly automatic. Julia Cameron’s Morning Pages (The Artist’s Way, 1992) invite three uncensored pages to warm the pipes. Peter Elbow’s freewriting (Writing Without Teachers, 1973) suspends judgment so words can arrive unblocked. Francesco Cirillo’s Pomodoro Technique (late 1980s) sets a modest timer, lowering the threshold. And Anne Lamott’s “shitty first drafts” (Bird by Bird, 1994) grant permission to write badly first so you can write well later.
Artists Who Began Before They Believed
History backs this up with workaday habits. In A Moveable Feast (1964), Ernest Hemingway describes stopping when he knew what came next, ensuring the next session began with momentum. Picasso’s oft-quoted maxim—“Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working”—echoes L’Amour’s tap. Likewise, Maya Angelou told The Paris Review (1990) she rented a bare room and reported to it daily, regardless of how she felt, trusting that the flow would follow the ritual.
Flow Emerges After the First Drip
In turn, the coveted state of immersion typically follows initiation. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi’s Flow (1990) shows that clear goals and immediate feedback foster deep focus; both are hard to achieve before we begin. Once we put down a sentence, the next one provides feedback, and micro-goals appear. What starts as a reluctant drip becomes a steady stream, then a river, as attention narrows and challenge matches skill.
Incubation Without Avoidance
Yet action coexists with rest. Graham Wallas’s stages of creativity (The Art of Thought, 1926) include incubation, where stepping away enables insight. The key is sequencing: turn the tap first, then pause strategically. Hemingway’s practice of stopping mid-sentence is incubation with a bookmark. Breaks that follow genuine engagement refresh the current; breaks that precede it merely delay the flow.
Beyond Writing: A General Law of Doing
Finally, L’Amour’s counsel scales beyond literature. In entrepreneurship, Eric Ries’s Lean Startup (2011) emphasizes build-measure-learn: progress begins with a minimal version, not a perfect plan. Thomas Edison’s adage—“1% inspiration, 99% perspiration”—frames the same principle. Whether shipping code, drafting a policy, or composing an email, the handle is always within reach. Turn it, and let the stream teach you where the river wants to go.