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Scratching The Itch To Be Creative

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The Tampa Tribune

Published: November 19, 2008

I can remember having "itchy fingers" ever since I was a little girl. That was my own secret description of the feeling I had when I couldn't wait to do something creative. I still can't really define it, but like the Supreme Court and pornography, I know it when I see it in others and feel it in myself.

My mother would have itchy fingers just before she began to crochet a new afghan. We would shop for the wool, select the colors, determine the number of skeins needed and come home with a huge bagful of potential blanket.

I know when my husband has itchy fingers. It often happens when he has something new to try on his computer, or a woodworking project that calls to him seductively and keeps him in the garage well past midnight. He came down with a bad case recently. We had just taken a course on making kaleidoscopes out of leaded glass. We bought the supplies. He took them to his workbench in the garage and spread them out on the table. And then it was impossible living with him until he had the time to begin measuring and cutting.

High-tech gadgets give my eldest son itchy fingers. Books do it for my middle son. And needlework or a good Steven King novel does it for my daughter.

I can remember being about 10 and getting itchy fingers every time my family went to the library. I would find a juicy Jack London book, or one about Caddie Woodlawn, the intrepid orphan who survived hard prairie life in the 1800s. Racing home, I would climb into bed and dive into my book, knowing that it couldn't get any better than this.

Part of having itchy fingers is the anticipation of doing something you really love. My best friend has an elaborate craft room in her home. Ever since we were very young girls, she has created beautiful things out of scraps, beads, cotton and glue. Her fingers have itched for more than 55 years.

My worst attacks come when I have thought of something I would like to write about. The ideas often arrive unannounced when I am driving. I can't tell you how often I have pulled to the curb, grabbed the nearest piece of paper (usually a check from my checkbook) and scribbled down the idea. For the holidays last year, my children gave me one of those tiny tape recorders that can save 50,000 12-second messages.

Once I get the gist of the idea down on paper or magnetic tape, I let it simmer for a week or two as the itch to write builds to a huge crescendo. And then, often at 5 a.m., it will not be denied and I find myself at the computer. For some people, the itch is to tinker with a car. For others, like my daughter-in-law, it may be to cook something special. For a long time, in his youth, my brother had the itch to draw and his pencil sketches were breathtaking. I am guessing that Van Gogh had itchy fingers. And Mozart. And Henry Ford. And Einstein.

The itch to do something inventive, productive or creative is like having a big red mosquito bite that cries out for scratching.

It feels soooo good to scratch.

Judy Kramer can be reached by e-mail at JudyandOz@tampabay.rr.com.

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