When I first started making Lulu Cinnamon, I had no idea I was creating the first chapter of a trilogy.
And to me, that is one of the most beautiful things that can happen in the creative process.
We often imagine that creating means having a perfectly defined vision and then executing it. Holding the reins, knowing exactly where you are going, and making sure the work ends up exactly where you intended it to.
But I believe less and less in that idea.
Creating is also discovering.
Lulu Cinnamon began in pieces. Vague ideas, images, songs, characters, feelings, words that caught my attention without me fully understanding why. Little by little, I started putting them together, removing what didn’t belong, following certain instincts and letting others go.
It felt like carving a sculpture out of stone.
At first, you only have a block. You start removing small pieces and a shape begins to emerge. You keep going and discover another shape underneath. And another. Until, at some point, you begin to understand what was there all along.
That is what happened with Lulu Cinnamon.
Symbolism and mythology gradually became the threads connecting the different pieces. The Moon, light, night, the journey, death, birth, love, home… things that initially seemed unrelated started speaking to one another.
And then something happened that, to me, is at the heart of creating:
everything falls into place.
But the biggest surprise came after I had finished Lulu Cinnamon.
I discovered that it wasn’t the end of the story.
There was another chapter.
And then another.
The work I thought was complete turned out to be the beginning of a trilogy.
I didn’t know.
And that is precisely what makes it so exciting.
Because it means I can surprise myself with my own work.
I think that is one of the great gifts of creating: you are not only the person making the work. You are also the person discovering it.
You can start with an idea and end up finding something you didn’t even know you were looking for.
You can write a song thinking it is about one thing and, months later, realize it was actually about something else.
You can create a character and discover that they belong to a much larger world.
You can think you are building a story and realize that, without knowing it, you are building an entire universe.
That is what makes creation feel like an adventure to me.
It is not about having complete control over everything.
I like to think of it as having control of the boat, but not the ocean.
You can decide how to navigate. You can choose your direction, your speed, when to stop, which shore to explore. You can change course when something catches your attention.
But you don’t control the ocean.
You don’t control the waves.
You don’t know what is waiting beyond the horizon.
And I think that is a good thing.
Maybe it is even necessary.
Because if we controlled everything, perhaps we would stop discovering.
So I try to pay attention to whatever calls me. An image. A word. A melody. A symbol. A feeling I can’t quite explain.
To follow whatever sparks my curiosity.
To let my heart and my soul have a say.
You don’t always need to know why you are heading somewhere.
Sometimes it is enough to think:
“This interests me. Let’s see where it leads.”
And then you keep sailing.
Maybe you’ll find an island you never expected.
Maybe you’ll discover that the little piece you almost ignored was actually one of the keys to the entire work.
Maybe you’ll realize that the journey was much bigger than you ever imagined.
That is what Lulu Cinnamon has been for me.
A creation, yes.
But also an adventure.
A constant exercise in wonder and excitement.
And above all, a reminder that creating isn’t only about giving shape to something that already exists inside you. It is also about giving yourself the chance to discover what is inside you while you create.
Keep your hands on the wheel.
But look at the horizon, too.
Trust the ocean.
Everything falls into place.
You just have to keep sailing.