Writer.
I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. The mere thought of being a writer carried so much weight, responsibility and pressure. It was an anchor in itself. I would’ve found it easier if what I did was labeled as ‘occasional word-vomiter’. But to be labeled as a writer? I refused the idea and the notions that came with it.
For one, it meant that I had to consistently produce, which I completely dreaded. I hated having to be creative on demand. It was always a nightmare. It was similar to trying to force a ‘feeling’ while slow dancing with your prom date who you were only half-interested in. With every move he made, you wished you were back at the table laughing with your friends instead. It was never going to feel natural or free-flowing. You had to acknowledge the awkward and drop the bomb on the poor boy sooner or later.
It just didn’t happen for me and almost always it wasn’t work that I was proud of.
Ever since I can remember I had the notion that art was something you do when inspiration hit. I thought the difference between a hobbyist and an artist was that the artist had a God-given unlimited supply of creativity. While the hobbyist only produced work whenever the perfect combination of mood, inspiration, motivation and ample time suddenly presented itself.
This is why even after years of the Universe screaming into my ears the obvious loud and booming truth, I shook my head no every time and walked away.
I’ve always had obvious inclination towards the arts growing up but I thought it was impossible for me. I always drew up a blank whenever I tried to get from point A to point B. I’d either make a u-turn halfway or find myself already where I want to be and after which I would suddenly find myself exactly where I started without knowing how I did it the first time. I thought that I would run out of ideas and just end up frustrated. I always imagined that once I put myself in a situation called to be creative on demand, I would disappoint. I would fail.
To foray into the arts, to work in an advertising agency, to jump into filmography, or to indulge in design was and still is a constant decision that many people have been nagging, in fact even begging me to make.
There were two excuses I always gave.
First, apart from my regular nine-to-six workload plus law school on the side, the arts (painting, writing, sketching, and filmography) were my form of release and expression. It was what kept me from burning out and it transformed into the equilibrium point I needed to function. The harder I worked at my marketing job and studied for law school, the inspiration, drive, and need for creative expression grew larger and larger.
It was as if working my left brain to the point of exhaustion resulted into a deep-seated hunger from my right brain to produce more and more and more. So I figured, why ruin this set-up?
Second, my varied environments kept me creative, it was the exposure to extremely different circumstances that gave me an unlimited source of inspiration and creativity. I had something to pick up and share from each one and the combination of was an abundant collection ripe for harvesting. If I chose just one and revolved my world around it, I’d dry up my reserves and end up empty-handed because I wouldn’t have any other environment to pull ideas from.
I used to think this was an absolute truth, up until I came across this quote a year ago by Ira Glass talking about The Gap.
“Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple of years you make stuff, it’s just no that good. It’s trying to be good., it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take a while. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.”
(Here’s a video on the quote) <— WATCH IT. It’s SO well done.
Suddenly it was like an epiphany, a revolutionary moment in my life where I realized it was all just fear in disguise.
Creative discipline is the ability to be creative on demand. It’s what turns hobbyists into artists. It’s that dedication and commitment to the craft. What makes artists truly great is the ability to constantly produce whether your outcome is good or bad. It’s the act of doing it consistently and being fearless about it.
It felt like God played a big joke on me. I seriously heard Ashton Kutcher (yes, not Justin Bieber) say, “You’ve been PUNKED!” in my head.
Goodness gracious. I have never wanted to beat myself up so bad for this lie I fooled myself into believing in. A lie that I told myself over and over again that kept me from what it is I knew I wanted. It was a fundamental roadblock I only overcame at twenty three. God, can you imagine the years I wasted believing a different version of the truth? The years I wasted isn’t even something I want to think about. But every confusion I’ve had was always justified in the end, so who knows right? I guess I’ll just have to find out eventually.
A calmness and security washed over me when I realized that I never had to worry about budgeting my creativity. It was never going to run out. In fact the few times I tried to experiment with it, that exact point where I felt like I was coming up empty was the moment I ended up truly being creative. That’s when all your pre-conceived ideas and concepts wash away and that’s when you come across something truly inventive, bold, and new.
That’s where you grow.
So, how do you differentiate yourself from an enthusiast, a hobbyist, and an artist?
To me, it’s simple. The enthusiast will probably buy the materials and never use them or will have a collection of her favorite works. The hobbyist has the materials, the collection, and she occasionally acts on her bursts of creativity. She might’ve even taken a couple of classes or went on YouTube to teach herself. While the artist is the one who made the decision to commit and set aside time for it, she’s the one willing to put in the work needed to hone it. Regardless of the right materials, the classes or the mood she just does it consistently taking it one day at a time.
If you were like me, please let this be a lesson learned and a new truth you believe in.
Find the courage to bridge the gap and be bold enough to trust yourself.
It will take some time, it will take a lot of hard work, it will be frustrating, but it will be worth it.
So here I am, writing outside of my Evernote-comfort zone contributing an article and dipping my toes amongst a group of beautifully talented women, most of whom are recognized writers and are writers by profession.
What am I doing here? I don’t know really but I’m going to give it a shot, finally.
This is point A.
Featured image by Steve Hoya via Creative Commons (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0)
