#16: I don't believe in horoscopes but... Taurean traits make for better writing

Five lessons creatives can learn from this earth sign

It’s my second favourite time of year. The navel oranges are everywhere, my obsession with lighting lamps at 5pm feels justified, and every store worth having a browse in has a Mother’s Day gift guide on its website (with an inevitable discount code to go with it).

That’s right: It’s Taurus season, and even though you’ll never catch me obsessing over a horoscope, I do believe that my personality traits firmly reflect the time of year that I was born in. For those unfamiliar, Taureans are supposedly ruled by Venus, the roman goddess of love, sensuality and beautiful things. They’re known for their love of luxury, nature and gifts, and although I have attempted to be more sensible in how I shop and live in recent years, I do have a tendency to shelve those sensibilities around the birthday month and indulge in a few spoils.

I take this spirit of decadence into every facet of my life. I pile those oranges into my favourite bowls (the bright and coloured ones), and they become little pieces of art on the credenza in the dining room or on my coffee table. I drink tea out of even fancier tea cups and hang bunting in my home office. My nail polish gets brighter, my outfits are a little more vibrant, my mood lifts with every pin of a stylish home or cool outfit on Pinterest. I give myself little moments where I am temporarily able to shut out negativity and tread softly and carefully through life. I don’t even need to buy anything: the simple act of meandering in David Jones to take in the beautiful merchandise and ogle the overpriced biscuits imported from fancy UK grocers feels like enough of a treat.

While it all sounds incredibly indulgent (and, in this cost-of-living crisis, as cut off from reality as believing in Venus herself), there are plenty of lessons creatives can learn from Taurean personality traits to enhance their practice. Here are mine.

#1: Take your cues from nature

Taurus is an earth sign, so taking a cue from, and connecting to, the natural world can be surprisingly beneficial when trying to pursue a more fruitful creative practice. I’m not just talking inspiration here, but the strength required for sustaining creative work. In the southern hemisphere, we are slowing down and turning inwards, while up north the energy of Summer brings a different spark, or a pull to the finish line. I find Autumn to be an excellent season for writers, for whom noticing is integral to their work (I always ask my students what they have been noticing). It’s incredibly sensorial, from the sight of shedding trees to the leaves crunching underfoot, and paying attention to the environmental changes can be a good exercise in learning to write with specificity and immersion. If you’re a budding creative, I invite you to attune yourself to the unfurling of winter: to ritualise that morning cup of tea/coffee in the same way Toni Morrison ritualised hers; to step out into the sun in the middle of the day, noting that life outside is slower, less chaotic, than it is in Summer, and therefore excellent for pondering; to stay in of an evening reading books instead of scrolling, thereby honing your craft.

Think too of your habits of the physical kind, and forget Hemingway’s advice about writing drunk: if you want to work at a creative career, then you need to be in good physical and mental shape to cope with the long hours and little reward that come with it. I don’t always take this advice, but hydrating yourself, getting your vitamin D in, and eating a variety of wholefoods and protein will keep you focused and well. Enjoy the citrus that is in abundance because it will nurture your immune system; step away from your desk and rejuvinate in the sunshine; let the quieter social calendar be your invitation to work your project out, making space for it in the gaps this season can offer.

#2: Embrace tenacity and loyalty

There’s a reason why Taurus’ symbol is the bull, and while stubbornness is the first word that springs to mind for many, I like to think it’s more tenacity and loyalty than any misplaced obstinance. Anyone pursuing a creative career knows it
A) does not come easy and
B) will be the thing your well-meaning relatives will try to talk you out of any chance they get.

But if it’s what tugs at your heart strings, then it’s never worth giving up on, not for all the money in the world. Taurus is a sign that’s as much about pleasure as anything else, and while it’s easy to be tricked by social media into thinking pleasure comes with a big house, or perfectly-placed cheek filler, or the latest designer handbag, I don’t believe any of that compares to the pleasure of pursuing your passions, completing a hard task, or even, knowing when to stop. That said, there’s always a caveat to Taurus’ stubborn tendencies, and it is this: we are only ever stubborn about what matters, and we usually only dig our heels in if we know we’re right. Never conflate tenacity with being difficult to work with — as a writer especially, I never want to fall into this trap or fail to take on feedback that will actually improve my work.

Taureans are also known for their loyalty, and this can be surprisingly good for building industry relationships. It can be tempting to flit between publishers and editors, chasing bigger advances or a publicity team that will do more, but there can be merit to loyalty (within reason), and it’s usually rewarded in the little day-to-day experiences of publishing. My loyalty extends to my peers in the industry too: I like to champion Australian authors, celebrate their wins and promote their events, even when I have nothing to personally gain from their success.

#3: Plant your ideas

Taurus is very grounded (again, earth sign); firmly entrenched in the necessities and practicalities of their mission, whatever it happens to be. There’s something we creatives can learn from this earthing and grounding, especially if we consider that our ideas are like seeds that can be worked with until they blossom into something greater.

If you’re anything like me (and yes, I should take my own advice), this can be easier said than done, but turning the lofty idea into smaller, manageable tasks takes it from a seed into something that can prosper. If writing a book seems too big an idea, much like planting a garden, scrap it from your mind and replace it with ‘Write a scene’ or ‘Write a chapter’, much like you’d start with one or two plants for your garden. Whatever works, just as long as you plant it.

And don’t just take my word for it: Kate Grenville, for example, talks about ‘making piles’ — collecting inspiration and making categories of notes until she has a foundation on which to build her work. Matt Stanton, who’s sold over one million children’s books in the decade or so he’s been writing, told me he starts by writing in his head before he even opens a document. And me? I start with a notebook, scrawling and scribbling before I do anything else. Not all the ideas germinate, but this process allows me to suss out their suitability for my bigger ‘book garden’.

#4: Indulge your creative spirit

Last Wednesday I went into campus early, with the sole intention of taking myself out to a solo breakfast and then a slow meander through an independent bookstore, hot chocolate in hand. I purchased three brand new books (more on those soon), but I also scoped out cool covers, bookish trends, literary magazines and nerdy gifts. There wasn’t a single section in that store that I wasn’t inspired by, and the buzz I got from being in that space with other word lovers was magical.

Artist dates, Julia Cameron tells us, are essential to “nurturing your creative consciousness, your inner artist”. She describes them as solo pursuits, meant for “you and your inner artist, a.k.a. your creative child”, and which must be safeguarded against “interlopers” at all costs. Cameron suggests setting aside two hours a week for these, but I’m realistic about what’s achievable for me.

What’s important is doing them in the first place, and recognising that they don’t have to look the same as other people’s artists dates either: sometimes I go to a gallery, sometimes I go to a cafe (chefs are creative too!), and sometimes I curl up on the couch on Pinterest or Substack, inspired by other people’s work.

Whatever your inspo looks like, block out some time for it, not just because it’s fun, but because it’s essential and formative with regards to your own fruitful practice. I once interviewed an author who could not name a single book that they liked or would even recommend from their genre. This confirmed that they had not been reading and it showed in their characterisation and dialogue. I immediately thought of Stephen King, whose memoir On Writing first taught me the importance of reading in order to write. We are, after all, in a creative eco-system.

#5: Practice showing care

I am a signature Taurean and an expert at treating myself. I love buying ‘pieces’, I love being a purse-person and eating my yoghurt with a nice spoon, I prefer my measuring cups with a touch of whimsy (mine are babushkas). I like brushing up on history, girl-only catch-ups, and listening to women talking about big, lofty ideas. I engage in conversation about taboo topics like money, religion, revolution. All of those versions of me can exist at once, and they do. I like to nourish those versions in different ways, at different times. Doing so allows me to cope with the demands of my work, which is always changing. (One day I will tell you all about my current research project, but today is not that day.)

Your idea of taking care of yourself might look completely different to mine, and that’s OK. The point is that you take the time to know what it is. Long baths, cute cups, and a lush picnic rug can be surprisingly uplifting, as can saying no and tuning out. While treating yourself is not really going to make you a better writer, this last one is also about about giving yourself the space to tread softly and slowly instead of feeding the capitalist machine, which equates labour and productivity to your worth. If you’re from a marginalised group, it’s even more paramount.

Hustle and burnout can be detrimental to the creative spirit, and this world needs creatives, who are often at the forefront of movements for change. We already have it within us to change the world, because we’ve spent so much time pulling it apart, understanding it, and dreaming, writing, painting, sculpting and imagining it better. Caring for ourselves therefore facilitates the care of others. I don’t mean this in the day-to-day notion of caregiving as we associate it with say parenting, but rather with the consideration we apply to the circles and communities we live in. My idea of wealth wouldn’t be about boats and holiday houses (well, maybe one holiday house), but about establishing scholarships for marginalised or underprivileged girls, elevating the arts, and supporting other causes I believe in.

Showing care then is about nourishing that part of every creative that’s a little more sensitive and empathetic, knowing their fulfilment has a ripple effect. It’s a lot like applying your own oxygen mask on before you help someone else with theirs: you want to do good things, write good things, contribute something to the world? You need to fill your cup first. And from birthday bunting to artist dates, there’s a lot you can do to kickstart your journey.