January 20, 2012
How to be Miserable …
I recently read a list on Facebook – “How to be Miserable as an Artist”. I don’t know the original author of the post, and I can’t give credit where it’s due. But I do appreciate that so many people have shared it, because it really hit home. And at the risk of infringing on someone else’s copyright (take THAT, SOPA!), I thought I’d publish it here, as well.
- Constantly compare yourself to other artists.
- Talk to your family about what you do and expect them to cheer you on.
- Base the success of your entire career on one project.
- Stick with what you know.
- Undervalue your expertise.
- Let money dictate what you do.
- Bow to societal pressures.
- Only do work that your family would love.
- Do whatever the client/customers/gallery owner/patron/investor/*fan* asks. (I added that last one)
- Set unachievable/overwhelming goals, to be accomplished tomorrow.
The two most important lessons in this list – for me – are #1 and #10. I find that when I’m feeling the pressure … when the muse refuses to cooperate and all I produce is absolutely craptastic, I start comparing my work to other writers and identifying all the places where I’ve gone wrong. Why didn’t I come up with that turn of phrase? Why don’t I see the world that way? How did I miss this, that, or the other? There is nothing worse for your self esteem than to compare your work with others’ and berate yourself for being somehow … less … than they are.
I’m pretty lucky. I’m part of a group of fantastic writers who create within the same genre. I’m always learning from them. I’m always inspired by them. I get fantastic support, incredibly helpful editorial advice, and the belief that no matter how long it takes, I will get it done. But there are times when I have to remind myself that these amazing writers go through the same struggles as I: sometimes, inspiration just hits … and sometimes – often – they have to work for it. Instead of comparing myself to them, instead of identifying all the places where I fall short, I can look at the work of these artists and think, “Wow. I want to work harder. I want to do better. I want to feel about my work the way I feel about theirs.” And you know what? Eventually, I do. When I produce something I’m genuinely proud of, I know what it’s like to not be miserable. So … lesson learned. Use other artists as inspiring examples … but never compare yourself to them. Never try to be like them. Your art is yours. You are unique and different, and your voice deserves to be heard.
And that brings me to #10, which I’m pretty sure has plagued me since the day I started this blog (possibly before). Avoid setting goals that are unrealistic, unachievable, overwhelming … and expecting them to be done tomorrow. Life gets in the way. Careers matter, and bills, and kids, and spouses, and pets. Your commitments are important, and if you allow yourself to be derailed every time something else needs your attention, you’ll only beat yourself up when you don’t accomplish what you set out to do.
I’ve been working on the same story for almost four years (egads! FOUR YEARS!) … and so many times, I’ve had to step back because what was going on in the rest of my life took up my time, my fuel, my creative energy. I’m still working on this lesson, and many days it’s a major struggle. But it’s necessary to remember that, ultimately, we’re not creating for other people. When we start to do what others want or expect, when we produce for them instead of for ourselves … we lose sight of why we started in the first place. So what if it takes four months to write a craptastic chapter? And what if it takes another two or three months to turn into something wonderful? Well then, so be it! Don’t set unreasonable deadlines. Let the muse guide you. (I say this with a sheepish hint of irony, given that I set a New Year’s resolution to finish my story by year-end).
When all is said and done, the only pressure we artists really need to listen to is the one that comes from within … from the voice that says, “Make the time. Trudge ahead. Don’t give up. Keep practicing.”
So keep at it, friends. However long it takes. The work will always be there – it’s up to you to decide how you’ll approach it. Just remember to have fun with it! Laugh a little! Give the muse a good beating now and then! But never … NEVER … make yourself miserable doing it. If you’re miserable … then what’s the point?
Happy New Year!
September 28, 2011
Miracles do happen.
To anyone who’s reading, I just wanted to let you know that Chapter 20 is finally posted! It would seem that miracles do happen, and muses do forgive (after much grovelling). Thank you to everyone who has stuck it out – the wait was surely the longest in history.
I don’t know when I’ll post the next chapter, but the muse is at least making an effort to be kind … and if she’s not on fire, she’s at least sitting in a corner offering the occasional hug. No one said coming back would be easy, but hey, I am back. And that is something!
September 20, 2011
“The easiest thing to do on earth is not write.” (William Goldman)
Wow. I couldn’t have said it better. For the better part of a year, I have found excuse after excuse to not write. It hasn’t been difficult. Real life rears its ugly head in a myriad of ways … and it’s easy to become entrenched in the day-to-day without any thought about working through the stress of creating something new. I bow my head in shame, because really, I’ve enjoyed the act of not writing. Perhaps a little too much.
I’d been away from the exercise for so long, I actually forgot how much I love it. I enjoy writing as much as I enjoy not writing. When all is going well … and even when it’s not … the practice of writing has its own rewards. There’s the excitement of finding the perfect word/phrase/sentence – even when it takes days or weeks to dig it up. There’s the sense of accomplishment when one spends an hour or two bent low over the keyboard or journal, allowing the muse to go where it may, and actually finds something worthwhile in the mire – even if it’s just a cool word, or a concept to be used later. And there’s that amazing feeling one gets just from the doing … the sense that the mind and heart and soul are getting some much needed nourishment and a great escape from the daily drudgery that is real life.
I’d nearly forgotten all of this. For so many months, I looked at writing as a chore. The inspiration was lost. I was bored … with my story, with myself. I’m reminded again of Jack London: You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club. Problem is, I haven’t much felt like chasing after it. I put my club in a closet and shut the door.
But here I am now, a year later, and what have I to show for all this time? Nothing. My club sits in the closet, gathering dust, and I sit at my computer reading Facebook statuses and articles at Cracked.com. Sure, these things are enjoyable, but they don’t really leave me with a great sense of accomplishment.
And this lack of accomplishment hurts my pride far more than feeling that my writing is sub-par. I mean, how can I expect my writing to improve, if I don’t actually write? I’m heartily ashamed of myself.
At least I can come back! It’s never too late to pick up that pen. I suppose that’s the real beauty of any art: no matter how long you stay away, coming back is … if not exactly easy … then at least, doable. It may take awhile for the muse to fire up again (and there may be a fair amount of kicking and screaming until she does), but the exercise is still there. Ready and waiting.
With that in mind, I’ve finally “completed” and sent Chapter 20 to my trusted editor. It feels … amazing. And this feeling is a reminder of all I’ve missed in the past year. So going forward, I won’t let so much time pass. I’m going to write. Regularly. On a schedule. I’m going to do it because I want to.
Nothing like a New Year’s resolution in September, but hey … it can’t hurt to get an early start.
July 17, 2010
Dear Muse … Welcome Home.
Inspiration has struck – and I do mean struck – like a massive bolt of lightening, or a really huge chunk of Calgary hail. I’ve the bruises to prove it. My muse is here, whispering at my ear, punching me in the arm because I simply can’t type fast enough. I wish she’d give me a break. I mean, she speaks in gibberish most of the time, and it’s tough to decipher! I’ve never been great with foreign languages. I’ve taken French about six times, but the vocabulary simply doesn’t stick around. And as we all know, if you don’t use it, you lose it.
I wouldn’t say I’ve lost the ability to write, but my knack for translating the muse’s foreign tongue is a bit rusty. It goes slowly. But it does go. The initial draft is a bit crappy. But it’s present. The words are sitting there, waiting for me to turn them into something. I can’t really complain now, can I?
The muse is certainly a welcome sight, but it’s not to her that I owe this debt of gratitude (whatever she might think!). I really have to thank the people who made this past week a magical experience – one I’ll never forget. The talent, the creativity, the warmth and love of friends … there is no better way to bring the inner writer into the light. And into the light she has come.
Bear with me over the next few weeks. I’ve taken on other writing projects in addition to the big kahuna (aka The Coming of Light). But these projects will – I believe – help to keep things fresh and interesting. The words will be typed, the edits will be made, the magic will prevail!
Before we know it, there will be … dare I say? Another chapter! Yippee!
