When It’s All Been Done Before

This e-magazine almost didn’t happen. It wasn’t for a lack of vision, passion or drive for the project. Rather, it was about a flawed perception of how much creativity and innovation matter. 

I wrote a sporadic blog over the fitness years of Mama Beasts whenever inspiration would strike. However, whenever I considered truly prioritizing it, I landed on the same idea: why bother? It had all been done before. 

With the rise of social media, content creation has become an intimidating machine, cranking out breaking news and reactions to breaking news nimbly and impossibly fast. Recent example: Kate Middelton is missing. Kate Middleton conspiracies explored. Kate Middelton has cancer. Within hours, essays surfaced on why we are all assholes for speculating about Kate Middleton. To consumers and readers, this quick coverage isn’t shocking. It’s expected. 

To reluctant or aspiring writers and creators, this can feel extremely intimidating and make one think, why bother? While social media has provided increased platforms and audiences, the pace feels unrealistic, and the space - crowded and noisy, a fight for fleeting attention spans. So, I inserted my voice in infrequent and inconsistent blips, hoping for some resonation within my small community and was on my way, ignoring what I now realize to be significant creative opportunities because I was too obsessed about – well, being creative. When I considered being more serious about regular writing, it seemed everyone had a blog,  writer or not, and the same topics were explored, rebutted and updated over and over. This should have been inspiring – anyone can do it! But instead, I found it more of a reason to not bother. 

Blogs by moms were a particularly saturated space (more on this later) – funny and self-deprecating, serious and beautiful prose with equally gorgeous photography,  dark and honest, investigative and smart – it was all being done. And yes, perhaps it was that witch of an inner critic whispering in my ear that I didn’t have anything worthy to offer, but you also couldn’t argue with the sheer volume of material and the unraveling attention spans of audiences due to the snackable shots of content launched across multiple platforms in rapid fire. 

It wasn’t a lack of material. Through the Mama Beasts community, I saw daily what moms struggled with, what they were interested in and what was top of mind,  but when inspired by an idea, I’d poke around, lightly researching and see it already come to life in other blogs, online magazines and social posts. I believed if you were lucky enough to have an audience, you owed them creativity, innovation, fresh angles and ideas they’ve never heard before. I’ve ultimately gained more respect for my writing and perspective to know this is not true, but I still experience days when it feels like every story idea that comes to mind is overdone and boring and uninspired. And I want to throw my computer in the trash because it’s all garbage. 

But some incredible writers and women I highly respect tell me to wait a damn minute.

Creatives on lack of creativity 

In her book Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear, writer Elizabeth Gilbert emphasizes the importance of authenticity over creativity. “The older I get the less impressed I get with originality,” she writes. “These days, I am far more moved by authenticity. Attempts at originality can often feel forced and precious, but authenticity has quiet resonance that never fails to stir me.”

Boom. Write your truth and it will be original, as it is your truth. Mom Rage author Minna Dubin agreed about the power of our own experiences when I asked her about feeling like it’s all been done before. 

“I mean, how many love stories are there?” she said. “Do we get tired of love stories? Of motherhood stories? Of(not sure if she said “of” or “or”??)  grief stories? Of coming of age stories? These are the stories of life. Each of us will tell a new version in a new way in our own unique voice.”

My hair stylist/therapist cut me off when I began to explain how I worried about an upcoming project because the market was saturated and my ideas weren’t groundbreaking.

“No,” she interrupted. “There may be a million others, but there is only one Antoinette.”

In addition to  her being the best sounding board, she revealed a similar message to Gilbert and Dubin: your unique voice telling the story is as important, if not more, than the story itself. And when I look at the stories I adore and admire, I know this is true. And yet…. 

A bigger issue at play  

There was also clearly a self confidence issue when it came to my concerns about lack of creativity and innovation. I wasn’t as if I was completely inexperienced. Before kids, I earned my BFA at a college rich with experienced writers on faculty and had participated in writer’s workshops with both ample encouragement and criticism; I’d successfully pitched and sold a story to a national magazine that was featured on The Today Show; I worked as a newspaper reporter, easily cranking out 8-10 stories a week when I was 22,while subsequently pitching to and freelance writing for other publications. I didn’t question my innovation and creativity as much then. If anything, I knew I was creative and was more concerned if I had the talent to match the creativity. 

It’s worth noting that this struggle of “it’s all been done before” came after kids and in the midst of the rise of social media. Looking back, I understand I was starting to experience a low-level motherhood penalty (ironically a concept that hadn’t really been done before in mainstream media at that point) in which there was a gap in my “real job” experience. With the majority of my work printed on actual paper of newspapers and magazines – some that no longer existed–  how could I not feel behind? Or that I wasn’t a legitimate writer? 

The increased shift in our world to content being front and center all the time, combined with my hiatus from regular writing or a “real job,” brought in a crushing imposter syndrome,  something Gilbert argues can be cured by entitlement, a word that often makes women uncomfortable. But one, she begs, we make peace with. 

“I believe this good kind of arrogance - this simple entitlement to exist, and therefore to express yourself is the only weapon to combat the nasty dialogue that may automatically arise when you get an artistic impulse,” she writes. “I’m talking about the nasty dialogue that goes like this: Who the hell do you think you are trying to be creative? You suck, you’re stupid, you have no talent and you have no purpose. Go back in your hole.”

And with utters of, “it doesn’t matter, it’s all been done before,” and “that ship has sailed,” I dug deep into the hole, almost not emerging to lend my voice and the voices of other women on this platform you’re reading right now. I didn’t know how to harness or even embrace the imposter syndrome. 

Dubin says that imposter syndrome can actually be a positive force when creating.  “Imposter syndrome is a great motivator for me,” she said. “I feel imposter syndrome all the time with writing. It's the clue I'm doing the right thing. It means I'm stretching, trying a new thing I haven't mastered yet. I felt like that with Mom Rage. Who was I to act like an expert on the subject? But I like to think of creative work as an offering to a larger conversation. No one needs to be an expert or ’the best’ in order for their art or words to be valuable.”

And this struggle isn’t limited to writing: An internal struggle over lack of creativity and innovation can arguably be attached to any of our work and affect our success because it limits the chances we’re willing to take, the rooms we feel we belong in and even how much we are paid. I often see this in women small business owners, questioning if their work will make a difference, and what makes them special, qualified or experienced enough to be in charge and create?

It’s not only a lack of confidence. We shouldn’t be fooled yet again to put this hesitation all on ourselves for not being brave enough to believe in our unique voices and ideas. For being too sensitive and caring too much of what others think. The truth is that we are frequently told that our ideas and voices aren’t important (“another mommy blog” or “good for chick lit,” anyone?). And if you are confident enough to believe in your ideas and not care what others think, you’re also probably used to being branded a bitch. 

“There are all sorts of ways women are told over the course of our lives that our voices aren't valued,” Dubin said. “It's why writers who try to sell memoirs about motherhood get told by publishers and agents that the market is ’saturated,’ as if we can only have a few books on the most fundamental building block of humanity that makes and shapes our entire lives. Women's voices and women's stories are not deemed important by those with cultural power. We can either believe that and stop making art, stop speaking our truths, or we can keep shouting and creating and making and changing the world in the way that feels good for us.”

And the choice is there: to keep creating - even when it feels as though your voice is undervalued. To keep speaking and showing up - even amongst the naryliest and nastiest self-talk from imposter syndrome. To offer your take - even when it’s been done before. To believe that your unique voice makes an idea worthy. Perhaps, rather than worrying it’s all been done before, we innovate our sense of self to believe our version matters. 

Antoinette Hemphill is a writer, mom to three boys, founder of Mama Beasts and wants to throw her computer in the trash on a regular basis.