What Actors, Screenwriters and a Rabbi Taught Me About Innovation

One of my favorite podcasters, a screenwriter and Tony-nominated director, posted about a writing class she was teaching. It was a “full body yes”, so even though it wasn’t perfect for my modest nonfiction aspirations, I signed up.

The participants were actresses, screenwriters, producers, directors and a rabbi-writer so cool they needed to throw out the rabbi scale and make a new one for her. I was the only person in the group who had ever sat in a cubicle (outside a movie set that is).

People came to class and announced that they’re feeling emotional because their brother just got married, admitted they suffered a personal rejection and had a hard time sitting down to write, or confessed to feeling overwhelmed by the state of our country, curious how others are dealing with that. We talked about self-doubt and encouraged each other to write even when our fears were crippling. The level of connection and trust between people who spent only a few hours together was unlike anything I’ve experienced before, even in groups that have worked together for years.

What struck me the most was the generosity of spirit my classmates displayed so freely: Their ability to feel deeply, connect to their feelings, express them in words and through their art and hold space for the feelings of others. They brought that up in me too, though I always felt a bit awkward and not quite as proficient in expressing my own feelings or my support for others. I’m used to people in professional contexts undulating between moderate satisfaction and cynical disapproval. We’ve been so well trained to hide our feelings that we appear emotionally stunted at times. Only communal occasions like big company wins or broad layoffs (and maybe a pandemic every century or so) give leeway to veer off to “massively excited” or “deeply sad” territory. Otherwise, being professional means “feelings should be bottled up during business hours”.

People in the business world don’t feel they have permission to express emotions, and therefore rarely develop great facility in doing so, or dealing with other people’s emotions. Hiding feelings takes a toll, and they eventually come out in potentially toxic ways - some of which we forgive or even revere if combined with the right level of genius on top of a trillion dollar company.

I don’t envision a better world where everyone comes to work as watering pots or raging madmen. But admitting that we’re struggling with something and need support should not be taboo. Emotional literacy could be modeled so feelings are harnessed productively rather than recklessly spewed all over our colleagues through passive-aggression, ego plays, lack of empathy etc. My classmates also disproved the concern that too much emotion in the workplace promotes self absorption: There was an unspoken understanding that everyone is both a giver and a taker, though not always at the same time.

The creative process is all about getting in touch with our true self. Humans create transcendent music, theater, art and writing by accessing a deep well of emotions within themselves. Yet at work, we repress emotions or substantially limit our own need for self-expression. Why should we assume creativity works differently in the business or technology world than it does in the arts? Even when building a spaceship we feel creative, not think creative. 

Are we constraining creativity by constraining people’s access to their feelings in the workplace? Are feelings the key to more innovation?

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