Erika Tovi: Attuning to Creativity's Call

Did you think of yourself as a creative kid?
I’ve been creating since I was a young girl. My mom is an artist and my dad was often inventing something, so perhaps this type of self-expression was inevitable?

I started dancing onstage at four and devoted my youth to ballet. Over the years, I became various characters: Alice lost in Wonderland, Clara with her beloved nutcracker, a bluebird by Snow White’s side. Every performance was an opportunity to create a new world or experience for the audience, and that brought me deep joy. At home, my little sister and I would reenact what we observed on our family outings. This went on till I was 12, almost 13. We’d get all ruffled when friends called this “playing pretend.” The scenes we recreated seemed meaningful and real. Saying it was pretend felt dismissive to our little hearts.

When my parents got a computer, the pixels sparked new ways of imagining, making, and expressing. I put together magazines, stories, music videos, and graphic designs. Oh, the possibilities! I started my first blog in 2007 to update friends on my summer at ballet camp. Then in my late teens, I took up photography and earned myself some pocket change.

What does creativity look like for you these days?
Fast forward to now, my early thirties, and you’ll find creativity has morphed a bit, though nothing too far-off from my previous forms of expression. The biggest surprise is that I’m no longer dancing. A year after graduating high school, I became chronically ill. As you can imagine, this altered the future I saw for myself. In 2016, while bedridden from treatment, I started writing again and discovering my voice through memoir-style pieces. I also read 50 books that year and learned from new thinkers, artists, authors, and folks with experiences unlike my own. Exploring these stories (and all from my room!) shaped me in deep and lasting ways.

I’ve continued to write through the years and now keep a newsletter I quite love called Nōto. In that little internet space, I share essays for the heart and notes on life, nature, and creativity. Sometimes I’ll make illustrations or collages to accompany my writing. I also enjoy crafting haikus and what I call “limericks for levity.” This year, I’ve been working towards my dream of writing a children’s book. It’s been slow-going, but I haven’t given up!

How did motherhood change your creative practice?
I entered motherhood a year ago by way of marriage. My stepson is a lively kid with lots of curiosity and sweetness. He is also autistic, which brings a unique set of joys and challenges. Being his stepmom has blessed and aged me. I didn’t know my heart could feel the way it does! I’m delighted by that word “family” and a bit undone by the complexity of raising a child I didn’t birth.

In my creative practice, the most obvious changes would be to my time and ability to be spontaneous. I have to be much more routined now, which actually has its benefits. Maybe a less obvious change would be the impact this role has on my writing approach. I write and create from a different place than before. How can I not? My words hold a different weight now. They will carry with me into the future, and I want to be sure I honor my family in the stories I tell both on and offline.
Of course I’m still new at step-parenting, so I suspect its impact on my creative life will only continue to expand and shift as the years go by.

When do you feel most creative?
Most often, I’ll find a spotlight of creativity when I’m attentive to my right-now-life. An idea might flicker while my stepson and I dance along the river or while my husband puts him to sleep and I scrub dinner remnants from the table. It’s up to me to take that idea, slow down, and tinker with whatever sentence or image or feeling I want to convey.

Thankfully, I can create from most places: in pajamas on the couch, swaying from a hammock, or surrounded by strangers at a coffee shop. What matters more than where I create is the how and the when. It’s important that my heart and mind are attuned and responsive to creativity’s call. As a former dancer, I think this process is like rehearsing for a pas de deux (dance for two). You must pay close attention to your partner so you don't miss them. No one else might realize it, but your role is to witness their every movement and at the right time, respond. This is what makes the choreography so enthralling.

If I'm not being creative, then it's usually a hint at a cluttered calendar or internal state. I need to give myself the space to notice my life—the ordinary parts included—and then go make something. This invigorates me. Plus, it helps me be a more loving and present wife, stepmom, and human. A win-win for all.

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Erika Tovi is a writerly human, Japanese American, and perpetual project-starter. She lives near Atlanta, Georgia with her husband and 7-year-old stepson. You can follow her work and read essays for the heart at her Substack:

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