Can’t Force It

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We sometimes like to talk about this nebulous thing called writer’s block. I’m struggling with non-fiction writing malaise and music writing malaise right now, which I guess you could call a block. Mostly it’s because I’ve been abnormally tired and lackadaisical these past few weeks, focusing more on trying to fix some of my health issues rather than creating the next best work of art.

I don’t think it’s bad to take a break. I’ve said it before. I talked about Mark Twain a while back. He said that he got stuck during two of his books. He went and did other stuff, and when he came back, the books wrote themselves.

Of course, there’s a line between taking a much needed pause from frenetic scribbling and complete inertia.

I can usually tell I need a break from writing and music when I try to work on a song or story and I can’t stand the sight or sound of it. Usually, I take that as a sign that I’ve reached saturation point and need to do some other stuff, like cook or shop or walk the dog or read books or focus a bit more on other non-creative stuff.

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I spent these past few months working really hard on my writing and music–eating, sleeping, breathing my songs and stories, and then I went to Hawaii and when I came back I had to focus on some other things that had cropped up. Got sick, realized that the food allergies I’m having aren’t mild and need to be assessed better, that I’m under too much stress in my life, again–stuff that takes time to get to the bottom of. Those things, and finding a way to earn a bit more money, have taken priority in my mind, are sucking up the energy I had to focus on my art. But in addition to those things, I’m just not feeling it the past few weeks.

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I was wondering the other day if the reason we force our art out on schedule, day after day sometimes is only because this is the way our society functions. Crank stuff out nine to five–at least part-time–or fall by the wayside.

Many of the artists, musicians and writers we admire were rewarded for their crazy work ethic. The ability to plug their creation cycles into that ebb and flow of modern society, the circular mode of produce, produce, produce with no space.

It would be interesting to look back and see how creative people we admire performed before the industrial revolution.

The writers I admire don’t make a lot of money at their art (not by choice, necessarily). They create more sometimes than they do at other times. They often take a pause, go on long walks, write letters to their loved ones…ways of coming back to themselves by not forcing the process.

It’s important not to force the process.

Sure, I could force myself right now to open up a document or pick up the guitar and start editing a song or story I’m stuck on, but my edits wouldn’t be intuitive right now. I know that if I fill up my tank by taking a pause I’ll be able to come back to my music and writing with many more ideas, and I’ll have an outpouring of inspiration. It’s happened to me most of my life this way. Can’t force it. Not me.

Which comes down to the ultimate question: why do you create art?

Do you create for reward from society? Or do you create because it’s who you are and how you process the world? It’s OK for the two to overlap. I certainly want to be recognized for my writing and music in this lifetime, on however small a scale. But if I’m motivated by money and the need to feel I’m being productive, that I have a good work ethic, I’m usually not in line with my own personal goals. I don’t do this for money. Some do. They’re called bestsellers. There are only a few of those out there. I’m not one of them, so of course, take what I say with a grain of salt (as I know you will).

What’s your creative process?

You Need Chaos in Your Soul

You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star.
–Friedrich Nietzsche

I spend a lot of time involved in wild flights of fantasy, where I imagine strange and extraordinary things occurring, meeting the right people in the right places, magical results coming from little creations. And when I’m imagining these things, I believe that they are real – for a few moments. Continue reading

5 Thoughts We Use to Sabotage our Creative Sensibilities

1. People will judge me.

Of course they will! People judge you every day. When you’re standing at a crosswalk, when you’re in line at the grocery store, I can assure you, people who don’t know you and will never see you again are judging you.

When you put your work up on the web, drive-by clickers are totally, without a doubt, judging you.

Your work is your work. There will be always, always be people who don’t like it, or you. And there will be people who do. Alice Walker got widespread acclaim for her book The Color Purple, which was also turned into a movie and directed by Steven Spielberg. She also got a shit load of criticism from the Black community, judging her hard on her depiction of a cruel Black man who beat up on his wife.

Continue reading

Program Yourself to Be Your Own Self

I’m trying to convey a message on this blog, which is this–

You don’t have to tune in to mainstream media. You have more control over your dreams than think. No one else is going to give you permission to be yourself, only you.

Stop waiting for permission to be free.

You can follow your passion at your own pace on your own terms. And please, follow your passions if you feel this is the core of you, that if it were torn out or taken away you would wither.

You can grow your dreams slowly, over time, like tilling the soil before setting in the seeds and patting them over with a bit of dirt.

You may not be able to control what size they are, or which takes root. That’s the thing about dreams. They aren’t necessarily static.

And what turns out can be seemingly random. The orchid in the corner you threw water on once in a while might suddenly burst into life making you scratch your head and go, “What the —-?”

And some just won’t take at all. But you’ll learn what works and what doesn’t. And you will have to keep trying. You can’t sit on your butt and wait for things to happen.

We’re filled up to the ears from the time we are taught to read and glue our eyes to the tube about the Carnegies and the Rockefellers of the world, the Mozarts and the Elvis Presleys. Well, I’m sorry, but we’re not them. And we won’t ever be them. You can only be you; I can only be me.

The typical American movie goes something along the lines of he was born into (insert blank). He worked his way up. He was discovered. He arrived. Now he’s happy because he has fame, adulation and cash.

Or if you follow the VH1 path, the person was discovered, got into drugs, almost lost it all and then came back to play a reunion show to a sold out crowd.

Well la-de-dah, right?

But we’re all affected by it. Deprogramming yourself is hard. You’re trained from birth to want more than what you have. To feel that if you had that thing over there, everything would be so much better. If I were pretty like her, I would be happy. If I were wealthy like him, I would be happy. If I “make it big,” then I will be happy.

Cease and desist. What the hell do you want? I’m talking to myself, I’m talking to you drifters, wanderers, musicians, writers–whatever you are, be it for you and work on being it right now.

What if you could pick a packed out stadium or one broken life inspired. They’re not really mutually exclusive, but think about it. Which would you choose? What is your motivation?

Have you ever wondered if going to Hollywood (Not that I don’t love me some Hollywood at times, but let’s think of this as a concept, not necessarily a place) and making it big just might not be your answer?

Yes?

Well then, you’ve come to the right place. The answer then, is to start where you are. With what you have. In this moment.

What motivates you? External things? Internal things? Both? Good! You’re just like the rest of us.

Do you want to “make it big” so that other people will tell you how awesome you are? Will that fill the need to be somebody, be something?

Probably not.

Maybe briefly, but not forever. Look around you. I bet you have a bunch of friends and family (fans) who keep you tuned up when times are tough and tell you you’re good at what you do. Don’t lose them. It’s easy to do. Especially if you do succeed in the American way. It is so easy to lose focus. You need a core group of people to keep you real, not a caravan of sycophants telling you what you want to hear. It’s easy to fall when you’ve got no one telling you the truth.

And tell me, because I often wonder myself, why is 1,000 people better than 1?

Is it the validation? What makes having a million fans more exciting than just a few? The popularity? Do we really always need more to be better? Do we feel like if others don’t admire or appreciate our talents they aren’t real? (Sometimes I do.)

Ah, wait. I remember. It’s the capitalistic model. We have to put bread on the table. We need a roof over our heads. In order to be a success we’ve got to do this for a living.

Right?

I don’t think so. But I’m not famous. And I do this to live. Not to make loads of money. (Although I wouldn’t balk if I were to get paid more for the creative things I do do for money.)

I’m just trying to get you to think.

At the end of Into the Wild, Chris McCandless writes in his journal, “Happiness only real when shared.”

Is this true? Or can you be happy when you’re alone and inspired and then in turn decide  to share it with others?

I believe we can have happiness alone but we don’t always want happiness alone. We want to share it and we want it shared with us. And that is fine. But I always think it’s a good thing to look at the foundation we’re standing on, make sure it isn’t cracked and parched. I don’t believe you can be whole without making yourself whole first, just like you can’t draw water from an empty well.

My final point is:

Write what you want to read.

Play what you want to hear.

If you can’t write it or play it yourself, collaborate with people who can help you manifest it.

A lot of things you don’t think are possible are possible.

I have lived many different lives already and so have you.

On another quantum plane, I am doing something different. And because I have an imagination, I can grow my own life. It may not turn out to be perfect, it never does, but I will definitely learn from it. And if you’re not learning, you’re not really alive, are you?