If I could describe in one word the act of creation, I would describe it as being painful. As grapes are crushed in order for them to offer their fragrant juice, so does the artist crush his or her own heart to lay on paper or on canvas, the nectar of their creation.
On the tip of the pen that touches the paper, the tip of the brush that reaches the canvas, there is God, and inside the artist, the demons, all of them, are unleashed. At the same time. Creating means hushing the hell long enough for the angels to sing.
You may be wondering why any writer keeps writing, why any painter keeps painting, why all this labor.
Just as an insect is drawn to the sparkling bulb of light in the middle of the night, in the endless darkness, the artist is drawn to creating, completely and inevitably. As the butterfly, the artist can let himself flashed by the blinding light, that will propel him in metamorphosis, in rebirth, or he will lose himself in the darkness and he will be dead to himself and the world. His life will not end at his death, but the moment he ceases to give life through creation.
If you would use one word to describe the process of creating, what word would that be, to you?