There is No “There” There.

I loved Julie’s post today over at Writing Roads about the Phases of the Writer, so please go check it out. ( I have particularly experienced 1, 3, and 5  a lot lately!) It ties in perfectly with my thoughts on cyclical creativity, and the process of writing, and with this post I wanted to write today.

Something that is hard to grasp as a writer (or any creative person) is that there isn’t a destination at which you will finally Arrive and someone will declare you Finished.  You don’t “become” an artist in the same way that you can go to school for a set amount of years and become a doctor.  You won’t master all the tips and tricks, figure out a great writing routine, and then be on autopilot for the rest of your career.   Instead, there will be highs and lows, constant learning, adjusting and readjusting. This process in ongoing, forever and ever amen.

Does that sound like it sucks?

It doesn’t.

Once you realize, I mean really, really internalize that idea, you are free.  You can look at those nights where nothing is coming, or the days when you can’t stop working, and just take them in stride rather than seeing them as a reflection of your worth as at artist. The big lesson here is that  having an unproductive day (or week) doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be an artist.

This can be really hard for us to believe.  Most of us are way better at believing something negative, something that implies we are no good, than something that is redeeming and hopeful.

Have I mastered this idea yet? Certainly not, but I am way more comfortable with it than I was when I started this blog and really started looking at my own creative process.  Now when there’s a drought, I’m not completely wrecked for weeks and worried that I am washed up.  I just try to find some other ways to get inspired and wait for the rain.

making space, part two

In the first post of this series I talked about having chronological space available for writing, and how I’ve been trying to make that happen.  So now that I’ve learned to prioritize my time and delegate tasks, what is the next step to getting back on the horse…er…in the saddle… wait, why are all of these idioms related to cowboys?  Are there no perseverance-related sayings just for writers?   Maybe not.    Maybe there should be.

Anyway,  I have these small gifts of time now, but I have an environmental problem.   My house is full of pets, and laundry, and really fun video games, and all sorts of other stuff I could be doing.  Given the opportunity, I will probably do anything else before sitting down to work.   In order to actually work I have to eliminate those other options.

There isn’t a specific place in the house that is just for my writing.   Yes, I have an office, with a very foreboding looking oak desk and a window, and yes, I have a laptop with wireless that I can use anywhere with a connection.  Those are great for when I’m sitting down and just working on lyrics or editing a song that’s already mostly written.   When I’m writing the music for a song, though, and playing with melodies and chords and really just getting started, I need a place where I can let go of my inhibitions and fears and just…well… play.
My favorite spot used to be the kitchen.  I’d lean up on the counter, play my guitar, maybe pace up and down the galley layout a few times as I sang.    Lately, though, I have a new spot in the house.

We’ve been renovating the enclosed balcony for awhile, but now it’s almost finished.  It’s a “room”, but I can see outside, and I can close myself off from the rest of the house (read: cats) who might interrupt.  The hardwood floors make me feel cozy and comfortable, but also lend some nice acoustics to the space.  Also, if I can’t see anyone else around, it’s much easier for me to let go and act as if I can’t be overheard.

For someone who regularly performs on stage in front of others, it’s surprising to me how terrified I am of having someone listen in when I’m just starting with a song.  This definitely relates to the next post in the series, so I won’t go too deeply into it now, but the first draft of a song is an intensely private experience for me. Any hint that I’m being listened to, and my creativity takes a hike.

The sunroom still needs some finishing touches.  When I imagine how it will ultimately look, I think of a moroccan lounge or a classic library room.

Somewhere in between the two would be perfect.

I’ve bought some paint that looks like the inside of a butternut squash (isn’t orange supposed to inspire creativity?) which should go up on the walls soon.

A big comfy chair, a bookshelf full of  my favorite books, and a couple of nice lamps… and definitely a small table, big enough only for a no

tebook and a glass of wine.  Once those are in place, I’m confident I’ll have a physical space in which I can be happy and productive.

making space, part one.

Last year, I was busy.

Working at my “day job” (which I actually love), going to school part-time, doing some work as a labor and postpartum doula, moving into a house, adopting animals, repeatedly resolving to go to the gym (and sometimes going!) — I was really, really busy.   As a result of being so busy living a “normal” life, I let some very important things fall by the wayside, namely my regular writing schedule.

“But I just don’t have time!” is so easy to say with regard to writing, or any kind of artistic discipline.  Sometimes, especially when it’s not our full-time way of making a living, our creative work is the first thing to go when things get hectic.  I’ve learned that in order to have the time to write, I need to make the time to write.   Extra hours will not spontaneously appear in my day as a gift from the gods, nor will any new songs spring, fully-formed, from my pen while I’m sleeping. It’s really pretty simple, but easy to overlook in favor of excuses –

If I want to be a songwriter, I need to write songs.

I need to have an “appointment with myself” every day in which my only assignment is to write.  With a schedule like mine, that seems nearly impossible at first glance.

So how do I recover from my lapse in writing discipline?

The first step is to unstick myself from the mire of my over-scheduled days.  I need to re-evaluate how much I should be doing, what I can and can’t volunteer for, what time I actually have versus the time I’m promising for others.  When I was writing every day, my schedule was much more loose and free.  I could walk down to the coffee shop in my neighborhood and sit with my notebook for a couple of hours.   Given that I now have more responsibilities and a full-time job, that sort of setup just can’t happen anymore.  So how do I create more space in my schedule?

A fun thing I only recently discovered is delegating. It honestly did not occur to me until a short time ago that I don’t have to do everything myself.

This is a big one for me.  I’ve always been very independent (and just love slapping “independent” in front of “singer/songwriter” when telling people about my music) so it’s actually pretty hard for me to come to grips with the idea that I can ask someone else, someone equally or more capable, to help me with a project or take on a certain aspect of it that I’d normally want to do on my own.

A great example is my friend Emily.   She and my friend Wes (now her husband) did the artwork for my album “How To Take The Fall”.  It’s great artwork, I love it and get complimented on it all the time.    Emily has since been helping me with a lot of my poster/artwork needs for promotional stuff.   I am teaching myself how to use photo manipulation software, because I’d like to be able to do it myself if she’s not available, but in the meantime, why not delegate these tasks to my extremely creative and talented friend?    Once I told myself (and Emily told me) that it was OK to rely on her for these things, a big portion of my stress went *POOF*.

I think a lot of us in America are raised to be independent, do-it-yourselfers.  This can-do spirit is fantastic for innovation and motivation, but honestly, most of us get burned out on it at one time or another.  I know I did.   Learning that just because I am capable of doing a project doesn’t automatically mean I am obligated to do it was the first, and one of the most important, steps in getting my writing back.

Something amazing happens when you learn to delegate and take on less.   Time appears.  A half hour here, two hours over there.  Like a gift from the gods.

Yesterday, I drank a cup of English breakfast tea and worked on a song.  I felt guilty for a moment about delaying making chili for a church function tonight, but then realized it could wait, because I had more important things to attend to.