The pause before the first note

How taking time before you begin can elevate your creativity

The temptation, when I’m playing something on the piano or singing a song for someone else is to dive right in.

Off I go, halfway through the first melody and too often realising, even as I’m singing or playing, that it’s too fast, too loud, too something.

And it’s also too late, because now the only way forward is…forward. Momentum has taken over and there’s no going back.

These days, I do my very best to give myself a moment first. It might be an extra breath or two or time to sing through the first few notes in my head. Whatever it is, it means that the first note someone else hears is no longer the beginning of the performance, it’s just that no one else can hear it.

Creative pause

This is a trick that works beautifully no matter what you’re creating.

It can be so tempting to immediately dive in and make that first mark, take that first step. But when you deliberately pause first, you’re making awareness the first step of the process instead of movement. This gives you the space to imagine what you might do and to visualise the movements you’re about to make.

For me, it might be the breaths before I sing, the beats before I start playing piano, the melody that runs through my head as if I were already singing instead of still silent.

For you, it might be the movement of your hand as you imagine that first brushstroke, the sound of some words before you write them down, or a sequence of steps before you leap into a dance.

Whatever it is, it will be as if you’re positioning yourself with an inner compass, grounding yourself before you take that first leap.

The race has already begun

A perfect example of this in action was the ski racers in the recent Winter Olympics in Italy. The camera would zoom in on them obviously mentally tracing their movements, body and arms moving as if they were already flying down the piste instead of still standing in one spot. The race had already begun for them, but it just wasn’t visible to anyone else, not yet.

While I’m not in the habit of throwing myself down a mountain at great speed, I am trying to be in the habit of pausing before I create, of giving myself the space to mentally rehearse what I’m about to do.

I claim ownership

Pausing like this also gives me the space to prepare to put my own stamp on whatever it is I’m doing. I can decide exactly how I’m going to begin, how I will pronounce that first word or what notes or rhythm I’ll use.

It might be a song that’s already been sung a thousand times, but which I will do my way instead of relying only on how it has been done before or on the equivalent of muscle memory.

That pause is where I claim ownership, of the song and the process. It’s all in my head, but it’s a secret weapon that gives me just enough space and grace to do things my way.

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