Everyone is born creative. Everyone is given a box of crayons in kindergarten. Then when you hit puberty they take the crayons away and replace them with books on algebra etc. Being suddenly hit years later with the creative bug is just a wee voice telling you, "I'd like my crayons back, please."
So you've got the itch to do something. Write a screenplay, start a painting, write a book, turn your recipe for fudge brownies into a proper business, whatever. You don't know where the itch came from, it's almost like it just arrived on your doorstep, uninvited. Until now you were quite happy holding down a real job, being a regular person...
It's amazing how many of us started out with artistic inclinations which later got put in the closet when we joined the "real world".
That's what happened with me--I majored in Painting in college, but upon joining the adult world I realized how hard it was to make a living as an artist. Yes, there are some folks who create fine art for a living, but there was something in my soul that told me that if I took the necessary, practical steps to launch a career in art, that I would somehow be squelching the unnameable thing that made me want to do it in the first place.
And so I decided not to try to turn my artistic passion into any sort of a business, but thought it wiser to get a day job that paid the bills (this was back when I worked in the corporate world). And somehow in being adult, in being practical, in being responsible, I started to drift further and further away from the thing that I was once so in love with.
What happened with me is I think what happens with a lot of us--that artistic itch does not go away. After a while, that itch resurfaces. And then being the adult, practical, responsible people that we are, we get it into our heads that something big needs to come of our artistic efforts, like a book deal, or a gallery show, or having a screenplay be picked up by a big Hollywood producer.
We end up talking ourselves out of listening to the wee crayon voice because we think it has no place in the real world. And thus, it becomes harder and harder to get back to that innocent place of just enjoying coloring with crayons.
The wee voice didn't show up because it decided you need more money or you need to hang out with movie stars. Your wee voice came back because your soul somehow depends on it. There's something you haven't said, something you haven't done, some light that needs to be switched on, and it needs to be taken care of. Now.
Perhaps you're familiar with my story and how I chose to reconcile artistic impulses with practical real life. All of us do things differently, but for us over-achievers I think one thing that makes things easier is to accept that there is no pressure or expectation in creating something.
The creative things we do in our off hours do not have to be turned into a business. They can be just for fun, just for the joy of creating. We can regard our creations as a gift offering to the wee voice who asked for its crayons back.