Boredom is the Key to Creativity

Why being bored is not only a revolutionary act against a system that milks your attention, but also an act of unbridled creativity that could "turn up" your human potential "to eleven".

Jan 28, 2025

turned off vintage CRT television on road — Photo by Frank Okay on Unsplash

It’s 18:39 PM. I’m sitting cross-legged in my unmade bed and staring at a blank piece of paper. Digital, of course. Writing analogue in this position is beyond my capabilities. All I see is a vast void of white that signifies everything and nothing at the same time. Yet inside of it lies potential. It could be anything I want it to be. It could be the next best chapter of the novel I began writing last year. I have no idea. For me to find out, I need to start.

I’ve given myself a simple rule. Sit down for two hours without any distractions, write whatever comes up and continue the next day. Does it work? Yeah. Why? Two reasons:

I’m not attached to the outcome since my goal is not to write a publisher-ready draft but to simply write for two hours.
I have no option but to get bored. And I mean really bored. So bored I could start reading the dictionary word by word.

Boredom is the womb which births great ideas

There’s nothing stimulating about sitting in a worn-out faux leather office chair (or in my good ol’ bed, occasionally), open laptop in front of you, and with what feels like the Sisyphean task of pushing keyboard keys up a white mountain with no end. It’s actually depressingly boring and uninspiring.

You reach a certain point, a certain threshold and pop - a new page spawns before you. Sure, you can always stop, but then you’ll never know what comes next. It’s up to you to push through and figure it out.

It’s also up to you to handle the boredom. Welcome it in, make it feel itself at home, maybe offer it some of those home-baked cookies your grandma sent you and some warm cinnamon-spiced apple tea. ‘Cause it’s about to stay for a while. In fact, it’s about to stay for a long time.

Boredom is the best friend you could ever have

short-coat brown dog lying on blue and white striped bedspread — Photo by Ryan Stone on Unsplash

I’m sure you’ve heard about one of today’s biggest buzzwords - digital detox. Replace social media with books. Replace Netflix and the streaming gang with the theater and/or cinema. Don’t rely on your devices for literally everything. In other words - put your attention elsewhere. Take back control of your life. Become bored on purpose.

It’s now 19:19 PM. It probably means something. Maybe that I’ve successfully begun writing and the curse of indecisiveness has finally been lifted? Perhaps. I’ve invited boredom over for a quick chat. As I write, it rests casually on my shoulder, carefully observing the gestures of my fingers as I tap-tap-tap the keyboard. It doesn’t judge. It doesn’t get in the way - there’s no backseat writing, for which I’m grateful.

There’s a certain silent guidance. As if I’m able to plunge deep into the well of creativity and swim back to the surface with an idea in hand. I’ve caught one! David Lynch would certainly be proud.

Boredom makes you present. Boredom forces you to experience everything there is to experience in a particular moment. Boredom, in a way, is meditative. When you’re bored, your first instinct is to find a distraction. It’s absolutely unbearable to be this bored. You feel trapped. You never knew you were this anxious. You never knew a feeling could make you this claustrophobic. Escape. Now!

Actually, don’t. Relax into it. Let go.

“All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.” - Blaise Pascal

French mathematician, philosopher, and writer Blaise Pascal wrote this in his work Pensées, a collection of notes and thoughts on philosophy and theology, published posthumously in 1670. That’s 355 years ago. Is there any other quote that is this old yet this relatable? I’d be happy to hear your thoughts!

Our brains are off only when we sleep. We’re bombarded by notifications, alerts, and ads; our to-do lists are so full it’s not even surprising why we feel like can’t accomplish anything; we’re constantly looking for that next dopamine hit: a new podcast episode promising new (yeah, right) productivity hacks; the latest episode of that series that we don’t want to miss out on ‘cause all our buds are watching it etc., etc.

We’ve successfully destroyed the dreaded boredom monster, we quite literally can’t sit quietly in a room alone for more than a minute, and yet we feel like shit. Yay, mankind!

The paradox of creativity: succumb to boredom and take back control

a long hallway with green lights on the walls — Photo by Scarbor Siu on Unsplash

Remember that writing rule I have? Right. Well… I have another one. This one, however, has nothing to do with writing. It’s purely meditative. Anyone can do it and everyone should do it.

Here’s a breakdown of how it works:

You lay down on your back somewhere where you can see the ceiling from.
You remove every possible distraction: no devices, no music, no scented candles. Just pure, raw suffering.
You begin looking at the ceiling. You are not allowed to fall asleep or close your eyes for too long.
You can move your body if you get stiff. You can stand up for a glass of water.

You stare at the ceiling for a full hour. Yep, that’s right. An hour. So set a timer.

Why undergo all of this? What’s the damn point?

After the initial 5 minutes of sheer pain and desire to get up and go on with your life, something magical happens. You begin thinking. First, it’s only mundane crap - what you ate, that funny conversation you had with your coworker, what your plans for tomorrow are, etc.

Then comes the second wave which I call the uninvited and poorly timed existential dread - not feeling like your life is what it should be, wondering whether you should move out or get a haircut (yes, they’re equally impactful), thinking that it’s all pointless anyways so why bother with anything, etc.

And then, at around the 20-minute mark, if you’ve successfully let go and you’re now vibin’ with this whole boredom thing, the skies open up, the Muses start singing, and you enter the land where every creative person was born - the daydream. Soft, delicate, and made of abstract incoherence.

You are now within the liminal spaces of your consciousness. You have transcended the mundane, the ordinary, and the collectively conscious. Within the boundaries of the daydream, creative ideas lurk behind every corner. Your mind is at rest, at peace. The lack of distractions and worthless noise has allowed it to settle down and go back to its almost primordial, pre-evolutionary state.

The ceiling doesn’t exist anymore. Or at least it doesn’t bother you. You’re swimming through an ocean of potential. The world is yours not for the taking, but for the building. So, how does your story begin?

It’s 20:10 PM. I’m sitting in my black office chair and staring at a bunch of words I’ve written. It feels good. I feel like a scratch card addict. Just as they feel ecstatic about finding out what hides beneath the flimsy layer of latex, so am I about finding out what every white page contains. Like I said, the only way to find out is to start. And sometimes… you have to be bored out of your mind to start on the right foot.