Jamie Zollars: Broadening Your Definition of Creativity
Did you think of yourself as a creative kid? What did you do for fun?
I was definitely a creative kid all-around. I remember drawing portraits of my Cabbage Patch Dolls and making Popsicle-stick puppets of Super Mario Brothers characters. In first grade, my sister wanted a red leather jacket like Michael Jackson’s and a cotton candy machine, so I tried to make both out of construction paper. Needless to say, my ambitions far exceeded my skills. In second grade, I remember being paid nickels to draw unicorns on my friends’ Trapper Keepers (so very 80’s!). I used to round up friends to act out commercials at recess. It was pretty known by everyone around me that I was a creative kid. My first paid job was drawing a picture of my community library for a brochure when I was in 7th grade for $10. I still have the $10 bill because my (always supportive) parents made a big deal out of it. For school projects in middle and high school, I would opt to create videos with original skits and songs (and one unfortunate rap about the Constitution) with friends. I spearheaded these efforts as a form of “productive fun”. I’m still pretty bad at just “fun”. But I’ve been working on that in recent months.
How did motherhood change your creative practice?
Oh my, motherhood definitely changed my creative practice, though I naively thought I fixed everything into place so that it would not. I know I’m supposed to say that I instantly knew my life would be better and more purposeful after having a kid. But if I’m being perfectly honest, I think I denied myself much of that joy out of a fear that all the work I put into establishing myself an illustrator up to that point would be lost. Practically, I knew that motherhood could vastly change my creative practice, but instead of accepting this, I tried to fight it. I may have also been a little in denial, ha. At the time, I was VP of the Society of Illustrators of Los Angeles and was organizing the annual show. I had a doctor’s appointment the day before the big opening, but my due date was two weeks away. To my surprise, my doc told me that I was essentially already in labor and asked if I wanted to go to the hospital immediately or make an appointment for the next morning. I told her that neither option was ideal, but that I needed the evening to pick up and drop off a bunch of stuff at the gallery, so the next morning would be best. I missed the show the next evening, but they announced my son’s arrival! I resisted change to my creative practice preemptively in several ways, the worst of which was agreeing to a solo gallery show 6 weeks after my son’s due date. I do not recommend this. I ended up with a spinal headache after delivery and couldn’t sit up for days. I also birthed a particularly fussy baby. I set myself up for failure because of my fear of the unknown.
Image from Jamie’s book The Night Frolic
The first few years were honestly rough, because my husband was in his residency years at Johns Hopkins (never home) and I was trying to establish my identity in a new city with a new baby. There was so much to do every day! I packed my schedule as if time was not finite, as if I could power through, as if it were all a sprint. When my daughter was born (almost 5 years later), I began to soften and recognize my limits. For me, being self-employed made me feel guilty anytime I was not working. It took some serious effort for me to slow down, appreciate the present, and let go of my fear of failure and definition of success. Once I let go of concrete expectations, I was freed up to share my creativity in both of my kids’ classrooms as a guest teacher and in creative service to their communities. I began sharing my creativity more with my kids, and had underestimated the value and satisfaction of these things. Being self-employed also has a flexibility that allows me to be physically present. I went to elementary school parties and daytime performances; I chaperoned field trips. I may complain occasionally (sometimes more than occasionally) that I spend my afternoons and evenings driving children too many places, but the truth is that I’m less excited than imagined that my son will be a licensed driver in just a few months.
I have gotten to know both kids as interesting humans over our collective car rides. And (as all the people say) it does go by unthinkably quick. It likely took me longer than average, but motherhood significantly broadened my definition of “creative practice” for the better, and opened a door to a joy and contentment that I didn’t anticipate. Looking back, I wish I would have given myself a break from the beginning and opened my mind to these possibilities from the start!
What’s inspiring you outside of your own genre?
My 12-year-old daughter started dancing a few years ago, and I have been taken by it as an art form. Her studio offers choreography opportunities, and my daughter is really passionate about creating movement. She works with innovative choreographers at her studio and has contemporary (sometimes even avant-garde) tastes. It has been eye-opening to see the emotional storytelling possible through dance. We have discovered that Los Angeles has a vibrant contemporary dance scene and have attended local performances. Most recently, we witnessed Huang Yi and his robot Kuka weave modern dance and the science of mechanical engineering at CalTech, and were impressed by the creativity of a contemporary show by Lume, a Los-Angeles-Based professional dance training company. Learning to appreciate and enjoy watching experimental choreographed movement has been refreshing and inspiring!
What’s your favorite super easy creative practice to do when you’re looking for fresh ideas?
I talk to myself in the car. No joke. This has probably been my most fruitful practice. As mentioned above, I spend a lot of time in the car. When I’m alone, I just start talking to myself, bouncing ideas off of…me. Sometimes I pretend I’m being interviewed by Terry Gross. Pretend Terry Gross might ask me about my new book ideas and so I start talking them through, as not to disappoint! This exercise forces me to answer in a complete way without starting over, often using improv to extend concepts, meanings and goals. I find that expressing ideas aloud in a place where no one else can hear really helps me to develop them. No idea is too silly, and as a parent of two with a husband who works from home, car time is the best (and sometimes only) true alone time to audibly expand on whatever I’m dreaming up. Getting the ideas out of your head is messy, but it has to happen before you can make something of them!
Jaime Zollars has been illustrating (and occasionally authoring) books for over 20 years. She lives in Newbury Park, California with her contrarian 12-year-old daughter, sarcastic 17-year-old son, and dashing husband of 25 years. You can see more of her work at jaimezollars.com or on Instagram.
Nebula Notebook is a place to meet kindred spirits, get inspired, and learn how to find ease and joy in the creative process—even when life is bananas. 🍌🍌🍌
✏️ PS—The fastest way to grow as a writer is to book a manuscript critique or a creative coaching session with an expert. My clients get agents, sell books, and win awards. They also learn how to enjoy the creative process, so they can keep going when life gets hard. 👏
I love the idea of talking through your ideas like you are being interviewed!