Why You Don’t Need to Be an Expert to Be Creative

That foggy bridge feeling? That’s the magic of not knowing what comes next — and why being a beginner matters.

When Skill Turns Into Autopilot

Have you ever noticed that when you're good at something, you eventually slip into autopilot? You stop challenging yourself, stop playing, and stop pushing the boundaries of what you can already do. This doesn’t vibe with me at all — my ADHD brain gets bored the moment something becomes predictable. I crave something new, something I haven’t mastered yet. If I can do something well on repeat, I check out.

“Predictability is the quickest way to kill my curiosity.”

Why I Need Routine (But Also Kind of Hate It)

I think routines are great… to an extent. As a neurospicy person, I need some structure just to function. But on the flip side, I’m also inherently chaotic. If I plan too much — or turn my whole day into a rigid little system — I tune out. I stop being creative, because suddenly I’m just repeating the thing I already know how to do. No spark, no curiosity, no discovery.

For years I thought I wanted to be an expert in something, but after a lifetime of my brain ping-ponging between special interests, I’ve realised expertise can easily turn into a trap. You end up stuck with the same subject, doing the same thing, in the same way. That’s when creativity starts to stagnate.

“Expertise isn’t the enemy — getting stuck is.”

Expertise isn’t the problem — getting stuck in it is. Some people stay curious, but others cling to what’s familiar because trying something new feels risky. And I get that. Being both autistic and ADHD means I crave novelty and fear it at the same time, which is a wild combo.

Perhaps I'll sign up for something I've researched to death and thought was exciting, but the night before, panic sets in and I talk myself out of the whole thing, because my nervous system thinks the correct response to excitement is anxiety. But if we never try new things, we can't grow. We just end up recycling the same thoughts on repeat. And honestly? That’s scarier to me than failing at something new.

Why Being a Beginner Reawakens Creativity

When you’re a beginner at something, everything wakes up again. Your brain suddenly switches from autopilot to “Ooh, what's this?” mode. You go down ridiculous rabbit holes, you over-research, you info-dump at your poor family, and it all feels alive. There’s curiosity. There’s movement. There’s energy.

“Beginnerhood is where everything wakes up again.”

Being skilled at something is lovely — competence is comfortable, like a warm blanket — but warm blankets also make you want to nap. The spark comes from learning something new, from not quite knowing what you’re doing yet, from having to figure it out instead of repeating yourself. That’s why staying a beginner matters. It’s the antidote to that stale, beige, routine-driven slump where everything feels predictable.

And the best part? You don’t have to abandon what you’re already good at. You just need to let yourself be a beginner somewhere. That’s where the spark comes back. And the sculptor Eduardo Chillida put it better than I ever could:

“Whatever I know how to do, I have already done.
Therefore I must always do what I do not know how to do.” — Eduardo Chillida

Why I Refuse to Pick One Thing

That quote really hit me, because without realising it, I was already living it. School kept pushing me to “pick one thing” — different teachers, different expectations, all funneling me towards one subject. The problem was, I was good at loads of things, but didn’t actually want to become an expert in any of them. There are too many things I want to learn, and focusing on one subject forever genuinely bores me. (Thank you to my history teacher who taught nothing but WWI and WWII for two whole years — I shit you not. That’ll kill anyone’s curiosity.)

“Curiosity is a valid way to live — even if the world doesn’t treat it that way.”

And then there’s the neurodivergent angle. The stereotype is that ND people always hyperfixate on one specific area — the “special interest.” But that’s not everyone’s reality. Some autistic folks do that, yes. Some ADHD brains do too. And some ADHD brains are out here ricocheting all over the shop, collecting interests like browser tabs I’ll never close. My brain is very much the latter, and honestly? I’m not even sorry.

For a long time, I thought this made me flaky or unfocused — like I couldn't commit properly. But I’ve realised the issue isn’t me. It’s a culture that treats deep expertise as the only legitimate way to engage with the world, as if wide-ranging curiosity is somehow less valuable.

I'm done apologising for it. I’d rather be interested than impressive. I’d rather be learning than mastering. I’d rather feel alive in what I’m doing than competent but bored out of my skull. Chillida had it right: whatever I know how to do, I've already done. So I'm going to keep doing what I don't know how to do yet.

That’s where the spark is.
What about you? Where’s your spark — in what you've mastered, or in what you've yet to try?