Let me share about writing, not as a creative writer, but as one writer like the rest of us and one writer who earns the right to represent her own experiences in her work (Paul Horgan). Creative writing is a gift you never have to ask for, it is something embedded in your life. As you would not like the events or that gift of grieving, it happens as you write, as you live and as you work. It is there. You share a memory of that season, of that place in your heart because it haunts your brain. And when you don't do that and write about that, you feel empty or incomplete as though, it is only writing that mattered in your life and in that vocation is a responsibility, "noblesse oblige" (to act with honor).
How could you produce creative literature? Write from the heart. Write with all your soul and with all your might! Of course, you have to find out what you're good at. You make your own niche through hard labor (Sacred Wood, T.S. Eliot). While life goes on, in your time, you serve as a link, involving yourself with nursery rhymes, Shakespeare, Moby Dick, The Holy Bible, Hemingway, the writing canons, your writing professors, your co-writers, the search engines, culture and the world. The creative writer feels it, but the muse will not speak, it will write.
Often, writers will not be rich at this field, but only act as an ordinary writer or teacher. They have got nothing to flaunt, but thank those who read them. By that, they feel best and beautiful. By that, art takes place. By what they create, they change something, make more out of life and thank the Holy Creator for that gift of writing and spreading literature. Their words stay powerful in different seasons of time. Even after death they gain readers and friends, who will read and pray for them. Through their creative work, they etch lines of history and light.
Write, but don't ask for favors. Take the responsibility that goes with your work. Wait for nothing, but something of goodness for the heart. Be brave to be hanged, to be criticized or be dumped. But then, worry not, for the angels and saints are with you. Someone will proclaim about goodness from the rooftops, maybe about your words, those that ignite zeal!
As Charles Bukowski asserts of being a writer, "When it is truly time and if you have been chosen, it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you. There is no other way. And there never was."