Time and solitude. The creative process does not like to be rushed. Not does it obligingly permit itself to be conveniently squeezed into any available time slot, to be dispassionately jotted down in one's appointment book and duly attended to in the course of one's daily business. No, it is a temperamental thing, requiring nurture, care, quiet patience, and a delicate environment free from distraction before its true genius can be released.
Ah, but the demands of life are seldom conducive to the indulgence of such a mercurial creature, are they not? The necessity of earning a living, attending to household duties and familial obligations make it difficult to carve out sufficient time for imagination and inspiration to germinate, blossom and, through careful and painstaking labor, be brought to maturity.
Is is not the artist's dream to be liberated from mundane concerns, that he or she might be able to focus exclusively on discovering and bringing forth beautiful and meaningful creations? Yet we are never free, not in this lifetime. Therefore, we have little choice but to juggle the necessities, push aside the non-essentials, and hope to find a moment of inspiration in a quiet grotto of stolen solitude.