But, sometimes the act of creation is an expression of rebellion. A way of saying to the world, "Fine! You're going to be that way? Well, you can just suck it! I'm going to make my own world!" Then, huddle up in the corner with a pack of crayons and a petulant look on your face.
Maybe creation is a rebellion is against the expectations that life has for you. You're supposed to be normal. Responsible. Do something with a guarantee. You're supposed to expect boredom to follow you around. Progress quietly and respectably, follow the guidelines and never tell anyone what you really think or feel. Keep yourself to yourself. Someone always knows better than you. Someone else wrote the rules. The best you can do is play the game.
Maybe the rebellion is against the expectations other people have for you. The judgement in their eyes when they hear you want to do anything impossible. The sneer when you insist on finding out for yourself. Their expectation that you will fail.
Sometimes love doesn't sustain us. Passion doesn't inspire us. Things grow stale. The page is blank, the studio is empty and nothing is blooming.
I think in these times it is perfectly acceptable to fall back on rebellion. Why am I going to do this? Because someone thinks I can't. Maybe that someone is me. Maybe that someone is the whole, entire world. Either way, screw you!
What about you? What keeps you working when mere love of the work isn't enough?
(For some the act of writing carries more danger. The stifling of free speech and the silencing of dissenting voices is common practice around the world. Many have been imprisoned for expressing their beliefs. I argue that in these cases writing is not only an act of rebellion, but one of extreme courage. Thank you to those brave enough to let their voices be heard.)