Jan. 19, 2002
I thought if you were a good writer, you could write stories, articles, and proposals all on your own. In fact, good writers never got help from anyone; that would almost be like cheating.
Awhile ago a friend and I were working on the same writing project and she told me how she was at that point where she needed to brainstorm and get feedback from other people. This startled me. You can get help? Others can offer ideas and that won’t send you straight to writing hell?
All the writing I’ve ever done has come from my head with no brainstorming with others. The only feedback I’ve ever received has been from my finished work; no one’s ever helped me with the process. I thought if I needed help, I must not be very good and so I worked silently and sometimes frustrated, alone.
Part of not asking for help was due to the fact that I have been embarrassed to ask for help. I don’t want someone to read something that I haven’t completely fixed up and made as good as I want to. I feel awkward and shy when people read something of mine that I’m not satisfied with, and instead of being proud of the effort, I start to make excuses for the work and become the worst critic imaginable.
I’m at the stage now, however, that I need help. I’ve written up the proposal for my book and it’s sitting there quiet and pretty on my hard drive. I should go somewhere but it’s not because I am unsure about it. I need someone to look at it and give me honest feedback. However, it’s scaring me to ask. I’m nervous. I’m afraid. It’s like showing yourself naked while asking for respect.
I have access to author friends and people who know how to edit. I know there are people standing by, willing to help if I could just overcome my fear of asking. My fear of feeling like I’m imposing. My fear of being told that it really isn’t very good at all.
I know that I can’t do all this alone, no matter how much of a superhero I think I am. Everyone needs help and feedback at some point and I am no different. I just have to get over my fears of asking for help because stubbornness and independence aren’t helping as much as other people could.
Jan. 18, 2002
I remember when my site “Another Girl at Play” was just an idea in my head. I remember thinking how absolutely brilliant it would be if I could put together a site that showcased all the creative women who have inspired me. The more I thought about it, the more I really believed in the project. However it took me a really long time to act on it because of fear.
I was afraid if I asked people, they’d all say no – even those that I had become friendly with.
When I finally became brave enough to ask a few people to participate, I got an overwhelming response. YES! They all kept saying. In fact, out of all the people I asked, only one person never responded. I’d say that’s pretty good.
I was thinking about that today, because it’s coming up to a point where I need to start sending stuff out. I’ve been holding back a little bit because when it’s an idea safe in my hands, it has the possibility to be anything. If I send it out, there is the possibility that it becomes nothing and that I get laughed at by other people.
But when I thought about the women I asked to participate and how they said yes, I learned something. I can’t (and shouldn’t) choose how they feel or choose their response. I need to give them the opportunity to decide for themselves how they want to feel. If I never asked people what they thought or sent my work out to them, that is saying that I chose their opinions for them. And the opinion that I would automatically chose would be that they thought the idea, piece of work or myself was just completely daft.
If instead I send something out, then I do not have to be responsible for their opinions. And by letting them choose how they feel about my work, maybe they’ll choose to like it.
Not everyone will like my work, not everyone will want to participate but who am I to decide who gets to and who doesn’t? I have to put my work out there and let them figure it out and get back to me. Looking at it that way makes sending out my proposals a little less daunting.
Jan. 17, 2002
My birthday is exactly one month away and this has prompted friends to ask what they could get me as a gift.
“Would you like some books on writing?” “Perhaps I could get you an art book.” “Do you need any art supplies?” “What kind of writer gear do you need?” “Tell me which pens and what paper you’d like.”
Their intentions are good, and it’s sweet of them to think of me, but I think one of the worst gifts you could give a creative person is a creative gift.
That’s sounds worse than I mean it, especially since there are far too many books on writing that I’d like and paint supplies that I long for. But it would be like if I still worked in Corporate America and someone gave me a photocopier.
For Christmas the gifts I treated myself to had to do with writing, the gifts I got from friends all had to do with writing. Any free money that I come across goes to writing. All I do lately is live and breathe writing. I’ve become too focused on it that the moments I am not doing it, I feel like I’m being lazy.
Oh, I need to feel guiltlessly lazy.
I’ve let the housework slide because I haven’t had time to clean. Baths are a once a month indulgence that last for ten minutes. Time spent just sitting at the beach or walking have taken a back seat. I don’t take time out for café trips and those lattes that seemed like a deserved indulgence now feel more like a wasted expense. Reading for pleasure seems unproductive and dressing up seems a waste of time. If it hasn’t had to do with writing, I’ve slowly and sometimes unconsciously let it slide out of my life.
For creative people, sometimes the best gifts are those that don’t have anything to do with Creativity. Things like a housecleaner to make their place presentable again. Or someone to do their dishes so it doesn’t irritate the bejesus out of them as they type. Giving them gift certificate for a massage at a local spa helps get rid of all the kinks and stress they accumulate during all those late night hours of endless typing. Taking the creative person out for an adventure walk to the ocean gives them the gift of your time and nature. You could give them a coupon book for Starbucks Coffee and some trashy novels to go with it. Bubble bath, lotions and potions or gift certificates to their favourite stores work well too. Something to help the creative person relax and be OK with it is a great gift.
Just don’t give them sharpened pencils. Trust me on that one.
Jan. 15, 2002
I don’t want to admit it. I’m embarrassed to say it. I feel like a fake to declare it. But I will if only to keep the integrity of this site.
I’m having a down day. A full blown can’t get my ass to work even if it had to save my life kind of day. I know, it was just the other day I was complaining about not having any down time.
I went to bed at around midnight last night full of energy and enthusiasm. I had my weekly Docent Training class last night at the museum and it left my brain whirling because we had just spent three hours learning about abstract art and artists. This was by far the most interesting class I have had in my four months there and for the first time I made a connection to abstract art. Instead of hating it I have to confess to now being extremely passionate about it. Learning about it made me feel freer with regards to my own creativity and that I didn’t have to colour within the lines to be accepted. It wasn’t about being pretty, but expressing. That new thread of learning energised me into wanting to paint and create again after a month of stillness. I couldn’t wait for the next day to begin.
When I got home from class I had emails from several people who just made me feel so wonderful and excited. Their enthusiasm and honesty made me feel accepted as an artist and friend. Their words made me feel powerful. “If they say I’m on the right track,” I thought, “I must be! Let’s show them they’re right!”
With so many ideas and encouragement with me, I went to sleep a very content, excited person, waiting for the next morning when I could use all the feelings I had to begin something.
Instead of waking up at the usual, normal hour of 8am, something woke me up instead at 4am. Even for the workaholic I’ve become, 4 am is just downright too dirty a time to start doing anything and so I tried to fall back to sleep. But I couldn’t. I began to try every trick in the book to no avail. The milk didn’t work, watching mindless tv didn’t work, and meditation didn’t work. Even two thousand sheep didn’t work. I was up, no way around it.
With less than four hours sleep, I was tired and in a funk. My eyes had a hard time functioning and my brain was thicker than London Fog. This rendered me useless. I kept wandering the house trying to settle down and do something but at around 11:30am I had to give in and take a nap.
After the nap I tried to write. I began to just work on what was already there hoping my brain would get a much needed jumpstart. But it didn’t’. Instead I was left cranky, more tired, frustrated and even a little bitter. I think I even wallowed a little bit too.
It’s frustrating to me when I want to do something – work on my writing, finish my proposal, make some headway on my portfolio – but I just can’t. I get angry with myself for not doing anything. If I call in sick I don’t have a back up to keep things caught up and going until I return. If I don’t do anything, nothing gets done.
It’s hard for me to accept that some days I kick ass and some days, not so much. The past two weeks I have been superwoman and accomplished so much with little sleep, that I have a hard time comprehending why today is any different.
I have all this inspiration around me; great ideas that need to be made real and too many wonderful things going on. But right now I just don’t want to be a part of any of it. I’m worn out, I’m tired and I need to accept that today, that’s just going to have to be OK.
Even if it kills me.
Jan. 14, 2002
I’ve been telling people since April that I am self-employed. Yet a part of me didn’t want to really believe that because self employed means you are the only one responsible for what happens to you and your career every day.
Even though I knew that, a part of me still didn’t want to be responsible for my outcome and so I never lived up to all the potential I had. Instead I’d hope that someone else would realise it for me.
Knowing that I was capable of doing more than I had been, I decided literally overnight to become committed to start doing all that I could. Committing to my goal of being published and working my ass off to get that way has changed everything for me. The long hours, the endless days, the constant learning and overcoming road blocks doesn’t paralyze me like it used to. Because of this effort, my writing has improved, my outlook is brighter, and opportunities are presenting themselves.
I’ve always held the belief that anything was possible but before it was in a naïve, dreamlike way. I used to think all you had to do was wish enough, complain enough or meet the right person to hand you your dream without having to do anything in return. Now I believe anything is possible in a real way by just simply committing to an idea or passion, giving it some effort and sticking it out with plain gut wrenching determination.
That little shift in seeing the same thing in a different way has allowed me to realise and begin to fulfil my potential. By not hesitating to accept the challenge of overcoming my fear I have been able to transform ideas into action. And that has created possibilities that wouldn’t have existed otherwise.
I read something by Johann Wolfgang von Goeth today that perfectly embodies what I’ve just realised over the past month:
“Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative and creation, there is one elementary truth the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, the providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favour all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.”
Amen.