Heidi Kasa: Expanding in Every Direction
Did you think of yourself as a creative kid? What does creativity look like for you these days?
No, I didn’t. I defined creativity as visual arts. I thought creative people could draw anything from their heads quickly and perfectly, like magic, until I went to an art school for my graduate studies and met amazing painters who told me they developed over years of physical practice with different techniques. I viewed drawing with a fixed mindset: you’re either good at something or you’re not.
I hadn’t linked creativity to writing, because writing felt natural to me so I assumed it was a thing everyone could do well. I learned writing in school and saw the pathway of getting better with help from teachers and time spent doing it. I viewed writing with a growth mindset: you can improve with practice.
I define creativity these days as abstract: creativity gives space, time, and perspective for expansion in new ways. I write prose and poetry, make artist books and necklaces, and mess around with paints, so I try not to limit myself in creativity.
How much time do you get to work on creative projects?
It feels like not enough. But when I do, working creatively feels completely fulfilling and necessary. It’s not simply being a mother or a woman that puts a cramp on time to work on creative projects (though those roles and expectations certainly do). It’s also being an adult in a post-Covid late capitalist culture, meaning how creative work is valued culturally.
My family is particularly fortunate right now, because my husband’s full-time work supports us, so I’m working part-time as an editor and literary assistant, which gives me flexibility to prioritize my own creative work sometimes. This has proved beneficial as more events, publications, and awards have happened and take up more space.
Though as I’ve gotten recognition for my work, the to-do list has gotten longer. It’s positive, yet more things compete for writing time (marketing, other opportunities for publishing, judging contests, etc.).
But it’s been a struggle to carve out even this time. And my time is always balanced with kids’ needs, housework, family, friends, elder care, and management of everything.
How did motherhood change your creative practice?
This is a huge question I’ll contemplate over years, as mothering shifts. Thank you for asking this.
Motherhood compelled me to write about mothers in nonfiction (a new genre for me), but mothers come out in my fiction and poetry now too. At first, becoming a mother tested and frayed my relationship to my creative practice, then strengthened it, because motherhood highlighted what I really care about.
I find my writing process has changed when revising and editing. At this stage, I need to truly submerge my mind, body, and spirit in the work. It’s hard for me to do that in only 10-15 minutes. But I’m learning to pick up anything and continue it, so I feel there’s a little forward motion.
Motherhood has given me more understanding for and connection with mothers everywhere, partly because of how deeply I feel about my own experience. I had a difficult late pregnancy and postpartum period, and a traumatic birth of my first child. But from that experience, I found out about issues in healthcare, education, and agency. I’m now aware some mothers are not sufficiently cared for, which deepens my thinking about motherhood and drives me to to write about it in the hopes I can help other women.
Having my first child narrowed my time and pushed me to my personal edge, which then forced me to reexamine my priorities and needs. I had known this about myself before having a child, but becoming a mother put it in much starker relief: if I’m not writing enough, then I’m not the best version of myself to people around me. I need a certain amount of time engaged in deeper thinking and silence. What kids bring is routine, schedules, many logistics, and much practical work, on top of constant stimulation—all of which can be mentally, physically, and emotionally draining. I prioritize and enjoy the ability to be fully present with my children, so I had to make changes. I realized I needed to ask for and make room for writing, which was necessary for us all.
Motherhood for my second child is tangled up in the Covid era, so both motherhood and Covid have changed my creative practice. Just prior to Covid, I was pregnant with my second child and advocating for myself in ways I hadn’t before around my pregnancy, healthcare, and my own artistic needs. I’d been writing a long time, but only started sending out work in the fall of 2019 for the first time in 12 years. I got great responses from the submissions, which made me feel like there was a home for my other work.
And then you probably guess what happened. When I was taking my writing to the next level, Covid lockdown happened a few weeks after the birth of my son. My husband had to take over my writing desk to work from home. It broke my heart. Just when I’d fought for space and time for my writing, I saw it vanish in an instant.
Suddenly, I was taking care of a newborn and a toddler full-time with no support, which did not allow for sanity space of any kind, and there didn’t seem to be an end to it. My momentum was sucked out of the air. You probably remember those days, depending on what your pandemic experience was like.
It would take too long to describe all the details that made motherhood during the pandemic experience difficult for my creative practice. But our disruption during the pandemic was unusual compared to some families. We moved six times in one year, and lived out of suitcases most of that time. It was about a year and a half of hardly being able to breathe or write.
But now I feel my creative practice is strengthened. I feel it’s more important than ever for me to write and get it out into the world—to help others but also myself. Motherhood gave me the awareness I don’t have much time, and Covid gave me a sense of mortality. So what do I want to spend my time and efforts and care doing?
How does art enrich your life? How does being a mother enrich your art?
Ani Difranco said: “Art is why I get up in the morning.” I agree. Art is one of my main reasons for living, though I love how art is beyond daily living. Art plays in areas extending past individual lives—whether that’s wisdom or spirituality or questioning how we live our lives, seeing absurdity in small things. Art seeks and expands, then deepens our awareness and engagement in life. It can lift burdens we carry individually and from society.
Art helps me engage with philosophical and complex ideas. It’s a space for disengaging from practical matters and engaging in an emotional, listening manner. I need art psychologically in a way other people don’t seem to need it.
Being a mother enriches my art in expanding my subject matter, but also my awareness and depth in all of my art. Even when I’m not writing about mothers or children, some of my work comes out of the heart of my love for them. I wrote a poetry manuscript about mass shootings and guns, which arose from some of my daughter’s experiences in school in Texas.
Engaging with my children has taught me to be fully present and also a keen listener. In the work of being a mother, I am now more sensitive to people and their emotions. It’s made me better at listening to what isn’t being said. Full presence, enhanced listening skills, and sensitivity and awareness of emotions have all enriched my art.
Tell us about a day in your life, how do you fit in creative moments?
Often, I have to say “no” to or neglect something in order to write or be creative. That can be hard, especially when it feels like I’m caring for other people and they need me. It can also be hard in our current world where people expect constant access to others. But “no for now” doesn’t mean “never.” Usually it means “later.”
When do you feel most creative?
Nighttime. The later, the better. People told me that would change with: plug in your answer here (job, adulthood, kids, etc.). But it hasn’t. I can still feel creative during the day with exposure to nourishing art, but at night, creativity flourishes without much effort, and I’m often trying to stem its tide so I can go to sleep. It’s a fight between my body and my mind/spirit. I find nighttime to be quiet in all the ways that matter to my creativity. I can be more internal and listen deeply for tiny threads of thought that usually can’t be heard. Also, there’s little to no expectations on me at night: it’s time for me. All of that can be true if I get up super early, but I hate mornings. I’ll always try to sleep longer if I can because I dislike the process of waking up.
What helps you make time and space for being creative? How do you avoid burn out?
Unfortunately, burnout often pushes me into making time and space for being creative. When I’m at my wit’s end taking care of everyone and everything else, I’m aware I need to nourish creatively. In the past six years, I’ve taken two weekends to go away and recharge and write. I’d like to take two nights and two days once or twice a year.
I am working on my boundaries, because that’s what I hear helps prevent burnout. But caring responsibilities and professional responsibilities can creep into creative time easily. Creative time is so bendy in other people’s minds and sometimes in my own.
(Illustration by Isamu Yoda)
What’s inspiring you outside of your own genre?
Honestly? Everything inspires me. I don’t usually write in one genre, and I don’t limit myself in what I read or watch, either. Anything that expands my thinking or feeling is inspiring. I’m drawn to foreign movies or animations, though. I’ve been watching Korean rom-com-dramas that incorporate suspense, thriller, and/or horror elements in a way I don’t usually see in American stories. For example, I’ll start watching what is labeled a rom-com but then very quickly it turns into a thriller with political intrigue. Then a couple episodes later it’ll invite romance back in, but the romance part is deepened by other aspects of suspense around the two main characters. I love complexity, so I love to see the ways that’s executed in other stories.
How would you like the world to see artists and mothers?
I wish the world would see artists and art as necessary, but not to be idolized. I think the hierarchy and comparative mindsets (and celebrity culture) are problematic for artists and for anyone engaging with art. Can we like and respect something or someone without aggrandizing it or them? I wish we could. I would like to see people understanding and interacting with art in a symbiotic way. I may not be actively collaborating with someone right now in my personal practice, but publishing itself is an active collaboration. And even in stories I’ve “created” myself, they have been directly or indirectly influenced by other writers, other art, and other influences throughout my life and environment.
I wish the world would see mothers as multi-dimensional. That being a mother doesn’t erase other parts of ourselves.
What do you do when you feel burnt out or filled with doubt?
Interesting how you link burnout and doubt. I’ve experienced different types of burnout in myself, which makes it slippery. There’s physical burnout from exhausting times like the newborn phase or when people are sick. Then there’s a longer type of burnout I’ve experienced when I’m unable to take actions that line up with my purpose and values, which feels like a moral or spiritual burnout. Burnout can also feel like I’m working hard but spinning my wheels. The end result is the same: depletion.
I need to get to the source of the burnout to resolve it. In 2023, I felt like I was living on my edge again. More opportunities were opening up with my writing—which was great! But I felt overwhelmed that I wouldn’t be able to do what would be best for my career and also have enough time and energy for my kids. It felt like burnout—but really it was overwhelm from living out the old pandemic pattern. I was experiencing an underlying fear that I’ll have to sacrifice writing again for my family. I don’t regret it, but it was an either/or situation.
I now approach my life with a both/and mindset: both writing career and kids. It will be. With that realization, I’m no longer afraid, and I don’t pit my kids against writing. I can align my decisions with my purpose. There can be self-flagellation everywhere—as a mom or as a writer, or as a caregiver for family—not doing everything possible in each. My writing career doesn’t have to be the best, and I don’t have to be the best mom ever. But I can try to be good at both while preserving my health, and still attending somewhat to other responsibilities.
When I have personal doubts, I need more time to myself to realign. My self-talk can be honest and real when I’ve had quiet time to let the negative stuff drop away or answer to the other side of me that sees through bullshit. Sometimes talking about it with other artists can help, too. Or therapists.
For doubt in my writing, what I need to do is dive into the work. Get muddy. Sink deeper into what I’ve already started. And as soon as I start tweaking things—moving a line here, deleting words or rewriting lines there—in the actual piece, then its parts start energizing around me. If it doesn’t feel right, I need to feel into that very softly. Quiet time allows me to listen wider and deeper to what the piece is trying to do.
What I mean is, the answers are already there. They may be in the wrong place, or there may be different words that will get at the meaning more precisely. But they are there in the drafts and notes and teasing those out.
For both burnout and doubt, I have the same answer: quiet time with myself so I can reflect and connect with what really matters to me (and that includes other nourishing art). When I connect with my writing, then I follow it from there, enjoy the journey, and see where it takes me.
What’s your favorite super easy creative practice to do when you’re looking for fresh ideas?
Something else creative. Even small. Even bad. Like sewing, or painting, or coloring. Taking a walk—moving to a new location. Listening to music. These things free my brain in a way.
How can we support and encourage each other more?
Maybe try to say the good, the interesting, what touches us, what we like about a piece of writing or art that’s specific because it’s what we thought or felt about it. It feels like sometimes people don’t want to do that because they feel they’ll come across as insincere if they’re always only saying nice things. And if you’re saying generic nice things, then maybe. But if you’re talking about what a project specifically made you feel or think about, that’s helpful and encouraging. We don’t need to rate everything we see in the 5-star system, and we don’t need to compare it to the best things we’ve ever seen. Just—what did you see and feel about it today? When someone engages with your art, it’s amazing. We don’t need to keep the positive quiet because society doesn’t incentivize kindness.
What do you hope your kids will learn about creativity from you?
That anyone can do it, and it’s yours. No one can take it away from you, though they may try purposely or inadvertently. It’s enjoyable, can be relaxing, and necessary. It can be expression, and it can be shared or applied in so many ways it can become very useful. But to please honor and cultivate creativity in others, because it’s one of the things that makes us individuals.
I’d like them to learn that reactions to your creative output are often about the other person, for good or for ill, so try to remember your creativity is your own no matter what they say or don’t.
Creativity is a skill and a talent that can serve you and others throughout your whole life, no matter what results you get professionally from creative products in consumer culture.
If you had a million dollars to make the world a better place, how would you spend it?
On doulas. There’s a great organization called Sister Song that could use it, but with that amount, I could spread it around to other organizations or doulas too. I wish that every mother going to give birth could have a support person there whose primary concern and attention is on the mother and making sure she’s not experiencing any of the pain and uncertainty of birth alone in her mind.
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Heidi Kasa writes poetry and fiction. Her poem "The Bullet Cures" won the 2023 Poetry Super Highway Poetry Contest, and her fiction has been a finalist for a Digging Press award, a Black Lawrence Press award, and shortlisted for a Fractured Lit award. Kasa's work has appeared in The Racket, Meat for Tea, Ab Terra, and Ruminate: The Waking, among others. She's the author of the fiction chapbook Split (Monday Night Press, 2022). You can find her nonfiction about motherhood and birth on Medium. Her story “Mechanical Mommy” is in the Mixed Bag of Tricks anthology. Her flash fiction, “A Small Death,” speaks about a woman’s artistic endeavors. Kasa works as an editor, makes small print runs of handmade artist books, and designs necklaces. She lives in Austin with her husband and two children: a 3-yr old son, and a 6-yr old daughter. See more of her work at www.heidikasa.com or find her on instagram @split_chapbook.
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