What is true is that being a full-time traditional artist/writer wasn’t my calling; I am not good at it really and don’t get much joy from it. I require living a full life (travel, work, people) in order to write and create so working at home, alone, just isn’t useful or healthy for me. I’m someone who thrives by working with people, I love dressing up and having a place to go, I love changing up my work and incorporating art and business. Although it took me awhile to realise both those things and I’m glad I tried to be that full-time creative from home to really learn really what does – and doesn’t – work for me. And when something doesn’t work, I shift and find something that does.

What my experience has also taught me is that “Creativity” is a HUGE word – bigger than “art” and “writer” and talking about feelings, fears, dreams. There are people that can do those things and even I did them when I first started to be full-time creative in 2001. There was a purpose for me being a writer then and talking about what I was going through. That purpose was this site which launched Another Girl at Play which launched a lot of artists, female oriented creative sites, a creative community and a whole new movement online. But once that purpose wore off, I was a very unhappy creative person because just talking about being a writer, just talking about being creative and staying stuck in that role was anything but creative!

It’s often so easy to see when you’re in an unhappy rut in a corporate job but not so easy when you run your own company doing what you supposedly love. It can get  so easy to become stuck playing out the artist or writer role, of making personal discoveries you feel you must share every day and talking only with other artists and so forth. I think that can be a dangerous path to be on. I take a look at some of the people who started out along with me or just after and see them in the same place mentally, physically and creatively. Nothing new is coming out. Nothing new is being produced in their creative communities. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of joy but a lot of struggle and always challenges at self-acceptance. I think that’s because they’re stuck and it’s scary to let go. It’s so scary to stop what isn’t working – we all know this. But if what you’re doing is creative and supposed to be amazing, it can seem like a downright failure to stop – especially if you’re public about it.

I went through through this fear around 2005 when I didn’t want to be a full-time writer,didn’t want to be a famous blogger, and didn’t want to be the poster child for leaving a corporate gig for a creative one. I was so sick of hearing my own thoughts let alone sharing them and championing women into a role I didn’t necessarily believe was right for everyone. So I became quiet and shifted on my own.

I began working on film sets, I began helping producers adapt books into movies, I worked on web sites and wrote content for major companies like Disney. I created still life’s in famous stores and travelled the world to write about it for major publications. I consulted with new media companies about how to get into social media without losing the human touch, I helped all my friends who had their own businesses learn about branding and PR and contracts. Working with others and often other companies, is where I found my real groove. It’s where I came alive and where I found personal success that has been sustaining me all these last few years.

Although I love photography and sometimes sell my work with a travel article or for an ad campaign, I have no desire to do gallery shows anymore or sell prints. And travel writing is something I love doing on the side but right now, it’s not something I want to do full-time. And painting? Drawing? I’ve always hated it because I’ve never been good at it or crafty and trying to make myself enjoy it was a mess! So I have all these passions – photography, writing, travel – but I actually don’t make a full-time living at them and actually enjoy them so much more because there’s no pressure attached to them. They’re in incorporated into all my jobs and my life and that’s what keeps me going.

It’s why I now really believe that one should not always pursue their passion but bring their passion to everything they do. And I do. There is not one task I take on that I do not love, believe and want to be a part of. When I work, I love it. I’m creative. I play at my job and succeed at it – whatever it is. I don’t define it, I don’t measure it, I don’t say it has to be X and if it’s Y I’ve failed and I do not ever worry about it changing. Creativity means change and if you’re not comfortable with that, then really, do the steady 9-5 thing. You will, in the long run, be much more happy. I assure you. And there is no shame in that. There is shame in living a life you think you should have, whether it’s in the corporate or creative world, and not really loving it.

One finds happiness in the actions of their purpose and not in the dreaming and talking of it. Be weary of anyone who tells you otherwise and especially of anyone who is only doing the talking! Life is really in the doing so really make sure you’re doing something you want to do – whether it’s arty or business, in an office or at home – and that you’re bringing all you’ve got to it each and every day. And if it’s not working, look at why it’s not and tweak it until it’s not working anymore and then move on.

I was watching Faye Dunaway’s play “Master Class” based on the infamous opera singer Maria Callas (Unfortunately the play is no longer going and it’s not available on DVD – I only had access to it because Faye dropped it off. You’ll have to wait until she makes the movie). And of all the things I’ve heard about being an artist and what it means and advice given and stories told, I would have to say that this play is the only thing that ever shook my core and made the hair on my arms stand in attention. “This is not an opera! This is LIFE” she says to a student who sings without passion, and sings because someone told him he could and he thought it’d be a great job to make him famous. She goes on to explain to him that because she was living every moment that she sang, she was great. Because he goes through the motions and removes himself from it all, he isn’t.

Why this struck me so was that often people tend to want to take on jobs that they think they should, or that they’re good at or that will get them somewhere. They tend to think of work as work, art as art, and life as everything that happens outside. But life is everything. Life is the act of living. There is no separation from work, art and life. She goes on to say that a person should know what they want to do in life and live it. That to scatter the mind with half wants and ideas is a waste – choose something and go after it with life. And, when you subscribe to the theory that there is no separation between life and work then one really ought to only do what they love. Isn’t that the truth.

It wasn’t money that got me to where I am, it wasn’t years of education, contacts, superpowers, conferences, or books. What got me to where I am is the simple act of making a decision and following through no matter what.

It is possible. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. And don’t ever buy into the sales pitch that it only happens to others, that you have to buy their books, do it their way, mimic their life, have to have their hair, clothes, connections. All you need is you and the ability to say, “Today, I am going to do what I need to do – however it needs to be done, in any way I can, and for as long as it takes. I will.”

Although I own volumes of his letters and writings, his artwork was a mystery to me. All I knew was he was it when it came to great artists. His works was posters for crying out loud! When people thought of important works of art his name would always come up. His work is so far up the scale that mere mortals were never supposed to do what he did. He�s an icon, a legend, a master.

Because of this, I had always had the notion he was born this way. He came out of the womb with a brush and went to work. His style was always there � or so I believed.

The exhibit showed some of his famous paintings and portraits but what they also showed were his drawings. This is where I spent most of my time because this is where I received a lesson.

Van Gogh had tried several (unsuccessful) careers before he decided to pursue art at 27. And when he first began he made simple sketches of life around him. In the drawings on display one could see some of his mistakes, hard lines, and sometimes shabby movements. What struck me most about these images was how simple they were, drawn by a man who was trying to learn.

When he first began to paint he mimicked other artists and their way of doing things; he didn�t have a style, direction or vision. His way of painting – the greatness – would happen later on, after years of practice and confidence. It also wouldn’t be recognised until after his death for during the rest of his life, he was just a man who tried to paint.

Sometimes, we remove the humanity from great people; putting them on pedestals so high they become separated from us. We think we can never obtain their greatness because we aren�t where they are. What we should think is we aren�t where they are yet. For we all have to start somewhere to become something.

I’m flailing my limbs.

One thing I want to get out before I mention other bits is that I am once again selling prints, after selling out completely last year. There’s a couple of new ones that I’ve created based on demand.

For more information, please visit The Gallery.

I did, however, find the time to shop dozens of times for all the materials I would need. I would lose myself for hours picking out card stock, ribbons, colours, punches, stamps. There wasn’t anything that would make time fly faster than mentally creating these cards. But, to actually make them, well, I kept telling myself, there wasn’t time. I had work to do instead.

I went through this pattern again last night, losing myself in a supply shop, happily bringing the purchases home, knowing exactly what I want to do with the cards then saying, �when I have a spare moment in the evening, I�ll do it.� That�s when I realised that this is work, it just feels like play and that isn’t wrong � that�s exactly how it should be.

When people ask me for direction I always reply with the wise words of Carl Jung:

Somehow, I seemed to have forgotten that for myself.

With so much writing projects going on, tight deadlines, revisions, new ideas, trying to finalise books, the idea of play has been slightly lost on me. That’s not to say I’ve been working unhappily, on the contrary. I love my work and what I’m doing; I can’t imagine doing anything else. But it’s all been structured work, no free form like drawing, creating, or making cards.

I had begun to think of anything unstructured that didn’t have deadlines or a direct benefit as play and useless. If I sit and create cards during the day, there’s no guarantee that anything will come to fruition. That if I just do something that is fun with no direct pay off, it must not be work. It’s just too much fun to be work.

And that’s where I was wrong.

The one belief I’ve held very strongly is that creative people cannot do just one thing creatively. A writer cannot just writer, a painter cannot just paint, and a designer doesn’t just design. Creative people like to have messy hands dipped in many inks. We aren’t satisfied otherwise and this is OK. In fact, it’s more than OK because creativity inspires creativity. Doing many things help us to create in the different areas. Designing cards will help me to design, to write, and to remain creative. There is a benefit. It is useful.

One of the biggest struggles I’ve had working on my own is not feeling guilty about the freedom I have. The freedom to work the hours I want, to take days off when I want, to lay in bed in the afternoon or break for tea. This is a common struggle for artists and I thought I was pretty much over it. I no longer apologised for working at home while friends and family went to a cubicle. I no longer felt sheepish about saying I napped frequently in the afternoon and I could take days off without having work on my mind. But I hadn’t come to terms with the fact that play was good and useful. That creativity doesn’t have to be structured; it just has to feel good.

That’s why I called this site Girl at Play after all; I wanted my work to feel like play. It just took me awhile to get comfortable with that.

When I showed it to the teacher the next day, she told me to stand in front of the class so that they could see what a cheat looked like. She went on to say that I must have traced it all because I had no talent whatsoever. She told me that I was wicked, a liar and could never, ever do any good artwork. She ripped up my picture in front of the class.

For the next seventeen years, that day would affect me. I would always believe that other people were artists, not I.

After a few years of being in a high level, corporate position, I knew that pantsuits and meetings weren’t my passion. I wanted to do something else, but didn’t know what to do. I wanted to find my heart, my passion.

With great, great fear, I purchased a small watercolour set for $5 (I didn’t want to spend a lot, too scary to invest!) and for the first time in seventeen years, I attempted to create. I sat down, let go and painted how I felt. The result was this:

Afterwards, I sat in shock. Shock that not only had I painted, but that my fifth grade teacher was wrong. I could do something.

I posted that image on my web site later on and to my surprise, people started to ask to buy it. I hesitated. I wasn’t an artist. I wasn’t someone who could sell artwork. I wasn’t real. I kept saying no.

After awhile of inquires I asked myself, who is to say who is a “real” artist or not? Who is to say who can or cannot sell artwork? If someone loves it, if they find value in it, who am I to make excuses and reasons why they shouldn’t? The nerve of me.

So, I made a limited set of prints to sell and a year later, I have sold almost every single one. This has amazed me. It makes me smile. It makes me forget about that fifth grade teacher.

I think everyone of us has something we want to do, to be, but have held back because of someone saying we couldn’t. I say, prove to them, to yourself you can. Because if I can sell artwork after failing art 3 times, anything is possible.

Without any writing to do, I found myself with an unsatisfied life as I had ignored all my other wants and passions for the sake of “being a writer.”I didn’t realise how much I had resented not doing other things because I was hiding behind the comfort of what I had become. Even when you’re doing something you want to do, Being “just a writer” or known as “the girl who writes” didn’t satisfy me because I feel more than those titles. However, I didn’t know how much more because I was hiding behind the comfort of what I had become. Even when you’re doing something you want to do, you can still get trapped.

Art has always been a huge passion of mine but I’ve been a shadow artist for so long; gladly encouraging my very artistic best-friend while feeling like I could never do what she does. However lately my desire to get active in art has been outweighing any fear. With no writing to be done, it seemed like now was as perfect time as any to dip the brush in ink.

When I mentioned this to a friend I did so with a slight tremble – was I really ready I asked her. What if I sucked.

As any good friend would do, she gave me brilliant advice. She said, “My assignment for you: do the SUCKIEST painting you can possibly do!”

And I did.

Without the need to perfect my work and no obligation to show others or write about it, I realised that it didn’t matter that in the end my drawings were unrecognisable because I was completely mesmerized with the process of creating them.

So I drew more.

Over time as I became more and more comfortable with drawing, my drawings became more and more recognisable. And instead of fearing a blank canvas, I feel in love with it and coloured pencils.

This lead me to creating Christmas cards for friends and family, cross-stitching my Christmas stockings, playing Go-Go girl to the radio and writing silly, useless stories just for the fun of it.

I’ve been able to finally get over my fear of participating in art and calling myself an artist. I don’t worry about judgments or outcomes, I just worry now if I have enough paint.