If you like to write, you should know about the cool thing my friend LaVonne has going on over at her blog, one.blue.berry.

LaVonne loves stories — she loves to write them (which she does exquisitely well — check out her juicy memoir about how she married a gorgeous Greek for his green card!), she loves to read them, and she loves to share them.

To that end, she recently started a delightful little project — sign up for her story prompts, and twice a week a one-word prompt will land in your inbox. Reply back with your (true) story — either in an email, or if you prefer you can leave a voice message on her phone system — and you may find yourself published over at one.blue.berry.

I’ve been getting LaVonne’s prompts for a couple of weeks now, and they always spark a memory and an idea, but until yesterday I never managed to carve the time to actually write it down.

This latest prompt, though, grabbed me by the throat.

“Tell me a story about: A Decision,” the email said, and it was as if I were possessed. I had to write it. I couldn’t not write it.

Maybe 20 minutes later I sent LaVonne 408 words about my decision, at age 19, to drop out of college and audition for the dance division at the Juilliard School in New York.

That’s all I’ll say about it here — if you want to read it, LaVonne tells me it will go live on one.blue.berry sometime next week. (I know, I’m mean. So sue me.)

Writing the story got me thinking about more than just that decision, though. This post is the result.

A Paradox: Playing Big and Playing Small at the Same Time

My decision to buck expectations, fly off to New York by myself and audition for Juilliard contains an enormous paradox: on the one hand, what a big, bold move for shy, 19-year-old me! My heart swells with pride for that younger self who did something that scared her so much.

Following my dreams, moving to New York to dance, was what one might call “playing big.”

On the other hand, I remember being struck by how the other dancers at Juilliard didn’t hold back in class. They danced full out. They went for it.

It may surprise you, but this had not been my experience back home. A lot of the time, in dance class, and no doubt in other parts of my life, I stuck to playing small. I danced “in the shadows.” It felt safer that way.

Holding Back

When I first “discovered” dance at age 16, I was thrilled at the attention it brought me. Years of being picked last for sports teams had filled me with a belief that I was a klutz, and yet after my first “real” dance class the teacher kept asking me which competitor’s studio I danced at. He didn’t believe me that my only previous dance experience had been through my high school gym “dance” classes, which were notorious for being, shall we say, light on technique.

Apparently I had some facility at this thing. Who knew?

For the next few years I dove into this new passion, dreaming big dreams of a career as a professional dancer/choreographer, while at the same time not quite believing it was possible.

My life revolved around dance and high school — there was nothing else. I was in dance classes for hours every afternoon and evening, with additional classes in the mornings during vacations. I applied myself furiously.

And yet I also held back.

I remember being so afraid of making a fool of myself, so afraid of failing, that unless I felt 100% confident in what I was doing, I practically refused to dance full out. That’s not the most efficient route to mastery, but this self-conscious display of hiding almost seemed the thing to do, in a studio where so many of the serious dancers were insecure teens like myself.

So while I dreamed of playing big, in my real life I played a lot smaller than my full size. (While at the same time I starved and vomited myself well below my literal full size, but that’s a topic for another time.)

The Power of Models

When I saw my classmates at Juilliard really going for it, holding nothing back, it was a revelation. It suddenly occurred to me that yes, if you want to make a splash, if you want to do this thing (whatever it might be), hiding and playing small is not going to cut it. No dance company it its right mind would hire a dancer who didn’t give it her all — I mean, duh!

Somehow, though, I needed to see my classmates owning the space outside of the shadows in order to give myself permission to be big. To take up space. To go for it.

I can’t blame that younger self for trying to stay safe. Some people can bust through glass ceilings all on their own. The rest of us need models to show us what’s possible.

There’s a reason activists raise a ruckus about film and TV portrayals of people in power being predominantly white and male. If you don’t see any examples of other people like you, it’s hard to imagine that they might exist, and more importantly, that you might fill similar shoes.

I’ve shared many times on this blog that it wasn’t until Chris Guillebeau appeared on my radar that it even occurred to me that I could really create a sustainable living doing what I really, really wanted. (Not that he’s the only model out there, by any means, but he was the first that I became consciously aware of.)

Stepping Out of the Shadows

One beautiful model of playing big is writer, coach and personal growth teacher, Tara Mohr — a personal hero and inspiration of mine.

I actually first encountered Tara years ago when she and her then fiance ordered a ketubah from me for their wedding. Since then she’s taken the internet by storm, blogging regularly for The Huffington Post, and appearing in national publications, and on national radio and TV.

Check out how clearly Tara articulates herself while in the hot-seat on The Today Show:

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Clearly, Tara doesn’t let fear of failure — or criticism — hold her back from her big dreams and visions. She’s dancing full-out with the world, right in the spotlight, and the world is better for it.

She’s a model for all of us.

Says Tara:

Most brilliant women don’t see their own brilliance and are “playing small” and they know it: not speaking up, doubting themselves, seeing themselves as “not yet ready” to launch the big idea, the organization, to put themselves at the table.

One of Tara’s missions in life is to help women leaders learn “how to quiet self-doubt, clarify purpose, and become comfortable with taking bold action in the workplace and in the world.”

Amen.

Playing Big

About a year ago Tara unveiled her flagship 6 -month course for women who are ready to bust through their own personal glass ceilings, Playing Big (I’m very proud to be an affiliate partner, and yes, that’s an affiliate link). Now the course is back, and Oh. My. GOD. Do I want to take it!

Want! Want! Want!

Had I not just signed up for both Pace Smith & Kelly Kingman’s The Way of the Peaceful Entrepreneur (also an affiliate link, though registration is no longer open) and Jennifer Louden and Michele Christensen’s Teach Now (that is not an affiliate link, but I wish it were [hint, hint, Jen and Michele!]), I would so sign up for Playing Big!

As it is, I’ll attend Tara’s free seminar on January 19 (there’s still space, as I type this), and hem and haw, and if I’m wise with my limited time and money I’ll take a deep breath and promise myself I’ll take it next time.

Sigh…

Meanwhile, I’ll look to all of the above powerhouses as models as I continue to dance myself out of the shadows and play bigger, and bigger, and bigger.

I hope you’ll join me. The world needs us.

(And if you sign up for Playing Big, will you tell me all about it, pretty please?)

Where have you gotten stuck dancing in the shadows? How are you continuing to play small, and what would playing big really look like in your life? Who are your role models for playing big?

PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!

Dancer photo by Shoofly @ deviantART.com (Sweet Carolina Design & Photo at Flickr)

Part 1 (In which I encounter the End of the World)

Have you ever noticed that when you make a big decision and commitment, the Universe seems to choose that very moment to send you the exact thing that will most challenge you?

Happens every time.

“I will no longer do that kind of client work, so I can make room to bring in the kind of work I really want!” [Cue ringing of phone, with a client on the other end of the line, asking for exactly the kind of work you're trying to stop doing, with the funds to pay for it.]

“I am getting back to my exercise routine, dammit, starting today!” [Cue the entrance of your youngest child, who has just stuck a rock in her ear, necessitating an emergency trip to Urgent Care during what would have been your gym time.]

“I am going back off sugar and wheat — my body just can’t take it!” [Cue the arrival of an Evite to a dessert party hosted by your best friend.]

Or how about this:

After taking on too much (again — how does that happen?) and falling off the wagon of your lovely 3-Hours-in-the-Morning-Creative-Work-Ritual (again), you are committed to spending even just 15 minutes making art today, AND working on your e-book, dammit!

And just as you’re clearing the clutter off your drafting table, so ready to sink your teeth back into creating you can taste it, the phone rings.

You’re all set to ignore it (after all, the answering machine will handle it), except that the volume’s up, and it turns out to be a past client. With an emergency.

The ketubah arrived weeks ago, but they only just now took a close look at it, and there’s a word there that shouldn’t be.

And the wedding’s on Monday.

Which is a holiday.

And today is Friday.

There goes your lovely morning of creativity.

There goes your Friday yoga class, too, when the replacement ketubah isn’t fully printed by the time you’d have to leave to get there.

(Oh, and there goes $80 — ka-ching — to pay for the overnight shipping and Saturday delivery. Ouch.)

Things like this are going to happen, of course. It’s Murphy’s Law. And when you’re on track, when you’re getting nourished every day, an occasional disruption, while annoying, is not a big deal.

But when you’re out of whack and trying to get back on track, a disruption of a few hours can feel like

So.

Part 2 (In which I regroup)

First step: Notice that it isn’t actually the end of the world.

Second step: Observe that the strength of your reaction is a pretty good sign that you are really ready to make that change.

Third step: Thank the Universe for sending such a clear sign that yes, it is really time to make that change. (Thank you, Universe.)

Fourth step: Look at what systems might need shoring up to help get you — and keep you — on track.

Part 3 (In which I get more specific)

Me? I’m re-committing to blocking off my mornings for creative strategizing, art-making, music & writing.

(Not that this would have saved my sorry ass on this particular morning, but it would have made what felt like a major disaster feel more like the minor annoyance that it actually was in the scheme of things.) (Though I confess that wasting $80 on shipping charges still irks me.)

I’m also looking at the feasibility (ooh — big word!) of shifting my entire schedule over a few hours.

My current M.O. is to work late into the night (in a mad attempt to get stuff done), which invariably leaves me getting a late start in the morning, but still wrung out and in need of a nap (which I almost never actually get).

It’s a system I know is not working optimally, but I’ve been too scared of failure to even try to change it.

The New Year, though, presents a natural “blank slate” in which things that don’t normally seem possible for some reason feel… worth an attempt, at least.

I actually love being up and at ‘em earlier in the day. I dream of being a morning person, and truth be told, my body would really, really, really prefer it. (Yes, please!)

It’s just the rest of me that’s not so keen. (No way!)

In short,

I don’t like to go to bed.

I want to keep going, like the Energizer Bunny. Honestly, if I had my druthers, I’d eliminate the need for sleep entirely.

Alas, that’s not going to happen. And I wasn’t blessed with low-sleep-need genetics — I’m hard-wired to require more than 8 hours for optimal health and happiness… and yet I rarely ever get it.

As we launch into 2012, though, and as I think about what I want this year to be about for me, I keep coming back to Susan Falcone’s lovely model of 2011 as her Year of Self-Compassion.

Self-Compassion — compassion towards ME, treating myself, first and foremost, with compassion at the forefront — means a lot of things.

• It means scaling back, streamlining, NOT taking on more than I can handle.
• It means thinking carefully, practicing patience, and NOT jumping in with both feet before I’ve figured out how to swim.
• It means giving myself lots of what makes me happiest (time for art, music, walks, friends…) and NOT filling my schedule with obligations that don’t feed me.
• It means being forgiving and gentle with myself, and NOT holding up SuperHuman expectations (and then beating myself up when I don’t achieve them).

(For example: much as I would LOVE to pursue a full-time art business AND a full-time Uke Diva performing and recording career, AND write full time, AND be a full-time inspirationalist/coachsultant/teacher/”can-opener to the creative spirit,” unless and until I clone myself THIS IS NOT POSSIBLE. At least not all at the same time. Who knows — my art or my music may become my full-time primary focus at some point down the road. I may have a flourishing touring schedule in my 70s. But meanwhile, I rely on my Stovetop Model of Life Design to keep me sane.)

Self-compassion also means getting adequate sleep and rest.

So.

Part 4 (In which I disclose the experiment I’ve been reluctant to reveal for fear of massive and embarrassing public failure)

It’s scary as hell for me to share this, but here goes.

For the month of January, I am going to attempt a very radical (for me) thing.

The Great Bedtime Experiment

All you larks will be sniggering, no doubt, but to a night owl like me, getting to bed before midnight (hell, before 2am, most nights!) is nigh impossible.

But I’m going to see if I can do it.

I’ve learned that accountability — especially public accountability — is a powerful motivator. My ArtSpark newsletter got me to make art like nothing else in the past year. I know people are expecting a piece of art to land in their inbox, and WOW does that get me creating!

Knowing I’m on the hook to produce is way more effective at getting me to play in my studio than just about anything else.

Honestly, I find this fact about myself incredibly annoying, but I’m still playing it for all it’s worth!

I’ve also learned that taking on a time-limited challenge — even when it’s not a publicly-made commitment — is very effective.

I never signed up officially to 750words.com, but I faithfully wrote my 750 words every day during the month of November (while riding an exercise bike, no less!)

So.

I’ve discussed it with my sweetie, and he’s ready and willing to support me in my commitment, which is…

(Drumroll, please..)

In service of self-compassion, and with a larger goal of creating more psychic and energetic space for creative abundance, I, Melissa Dinwiddie, hereby commit to getting to bed — lights out — by 11pm every night in the month of January, 2012.

Official caveat: exceptions will be considered and may be made on a case-by-case basis, only for special events, such as plays, concerts, gigs, or out-of-town visitors.

This means:

• I will have to turn my computer OFF by 9:30pm at the absolute latest. (Okay, maybe 10:00.)
• No more “just one more thing..!”
• I may will definitely have to scale back in ways foreseen and not foreseen. (Blog post not done? Too bad — it’ll have to go out a day later. Or simply not post at all until next week.)
• I will have to do a much better job of planning ahead. (The secret ulterior motive!!!!)

Do I really think I can do this?

Honestly, I don’t know. I may be confessing to major fails very soon, though I hope not. But this is an experiment, after all.

My hope is that the Great Bedtime Experiment will do more than just get me to go to bed earlier. I have a sneaking suspicion that it could have a much larger impact than the behavior changes I’ve listed above.

This feels really big to me.

Whatever happens, I’ll keep you posted here.

Happy New Year!

Do you have a big change you’d like to make? What would get you to take on the challenge of actually trying it?

PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!

Have you been making your way through the Day of Genius workbook? If you haven’t already downloaded parts 1, 2 and 3, go do that now.

Then come on back, because I have another one for you!

It has tickled me no end that the worksheets have been downloaded hundreds of times over the past few days (special thanks to Susannah Conway for including a link to the Life Balance Compass in this post.)

(And yet nary a comment on the posts with the most-downloaded worksheets — funny, no?)

Still, if the download numbers count for anything, apparently a lot of you are finding them useful — hooray!

To recap…

I’m co-producing a day-long virtual retreat, the Day of Genius on January 8, for which I’ll be presenting a seminar called Your Map to Happiness in 2012.

Being a Creative, who likes to make colorful messes and get her hands dirty, I’ve designed the seminar as a little bubble of creative time: we’ll get out the crayons, scissors and glue stick, and make a vision map — a colorful, intuitive kindergarten map of your dreams and visions and plans for 2012, to inspire you throughout the year.

But making a truly effective vision map requires a fair amount of advance work.

Who are you? What do you really want? What is the next step to getting there? What’s in your way?

Sometimes the real answers are not what we might see on the surface…

Hence the workbook, which I created for Day of Genius ticket-holders and decided to also share with you, my blog readers, as what my mom would call a “just ’cause I love you present.” :)

Stay open to epiphanies

Creating these worksheets — and working through them myself — has been part of my 2011 Annual Review (thanks to Chris Guillebeau for a large dose of Annual Review inspiration!)

As you play with the worksheets, stay open to insights, revelations and epiphanies.

Earlier this week, for example, I had the realization that, hey, I loveloveLOVE to teach — particularly in-person classes — and yet I haven’t taught an in-person class in a year!

The Mind Map to Happiness worksheet, along with today’s worksheet — Your Love & Time Inventory — helped remind me of my passion for teaching groups face-to-face, and ask myself what’s stopping me from doing it?

The answer: Mostly physical space. I can teach calligraphy around my dining room table (and have done many times), but what I most want to be teaching right now requires a lot more space. Space to move around, space to paint broad strokes and make big, colorful messes.

The worksheet helped me pinpoint tiny first steps I can take toward bringing teaching back into my life the way I most want it: I’ve started letting my friends, family and acquaintances know that I’m in search of the ideal workshop space, and and I’ve started identifying organizations to contact to see if they either rent space themselves, or know of someplace that does.

I’ve even opened up to the possibility of renting permanent space, something that seemed so impossible as to be ridiculous just last week. But which now feels almost obviously inevitable.

Perhaps not in 2012… but who knows?

These are the ways that big dreams and goals come to fruition: one tiny step at a time.

(Meanwhile, I’ve already got an in-person retreat on the calendar for next fall, one where we’ll get to move around and make big, colorful messes, but someone else is arranging that space, and it’s faaaaaaaar away, way too far for even the most die-hard commuter… But more on that another time…)

Your turn

Download Your Love & Time Inventory, print it out and spend 10 or 15 minutes with it. Then hop on over to the LACL Facebook page and share what you figured out!

Have fun!

REMINDER: You could win a ticket to the Day of Genius! Head over to Facebook and share your insights to any of the blog posts here that reference the Day of Genius, along with your reasons for wanting to attend, AND share and/or tweet the post, and you’ll be entered to win a full-day pass.

After the New Year, I and my panel of partial judges will pick one winner from among the commenters to join us for free. (Yes, commenting on/sharing of multiple posts will weigh heavily in your favor — we’re looking to add participants who really want to be there, so quality AND quantity will be taken into consideration.)

PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!

Happy Merry Joy! I’m in Alabama right now, spending my first December 25th ever away from my family, so that my sweetie and I can spend the holiday with his family (another first).

Whether or not you’re celebrating any particular holiday today, I hope you’re experiencing joy. And I hope this post (and the free worksheet I’ve attached below) will help you bring in more joy in the coming year.

Let me know your thoughts, ‘k?

—

Scene: A small second bedroom in a tiny duplex apartment. Hardwood floors. Old, inherited furniture, including a tiny desk by a window looking out on a tiny backyard (mostly concrete).

A young woman sits at the desk in a creaky chair bought at an estate sale. In her right hand is an X-acto blade, which she guides with precision to cut a delicate design out of paper.

A clock ticks, but she’s unaware of the passage of time, so intent is she on the task at hand. A black and white cat purrs by her feet.

The window darkens as the sun goes down, until it’s a black rectangle. The only light is now coming from the desk lamp, creating a puddle of illumination that contains her hands and not much beyond.

The young woman stops to change the blade on her knife, and only then notices that darkness has fallen.

It’s full night, and she started her paper cutting at lunchtime!

Six hours have gone by without her even realizing it!

—

That young woman was me, so long ago now it feels like another lifetime. Like the memory is of a movie I watched once, rather than the life I actually lived.

I remember the tight-in-the-chest, wanting-to-jump-up-and-down excitement of discovering a creative passion.

Or should I say re-discovering — I’d loved making art as a kid, but I got caught in the Comparison Trap early on, and in high school, when other kids were drawing amazing things that seemed just so much cooler than anything I ever made, I gave up on art.

They were the artists. Therefore (or so I thought), I wasn’t.

Of course that was a lie, but it took me a decade and a half to figure that out. (I now refer to the time between age 13 and 28 as my “fifteen-year-hiatus.”)

What lights you up

Perhaps you’ve had the same experience, discovering a creative passion. Finding that thing that makes you light up with joy.

Are you thinking of that thing now? I imagine your lips curving into a smile if you are.

And yet, if you’re like most people, you don’t spend nearly as much time doing that thing as you would like.

What shuts you down

The young woman who discovered paper cutting and calligraphy and painting and book arts at age 28, who would lose herself for hours in her passion, went on to build a business around her art, and then (ironically) gradually found herself doing it less and less.

Partly she got busy (who has time to make art “just because?”). Partly she got weighed down by a heavy load of expectations (perfectionism, anyone?). Everyone said she had “so much potential,” and suddenly it felt as if every piece she made had to be Amazingly Brilliant, or why even bother.

The Suck Duck took up residence on her shoulder, telling her she wasn’t good enough. Hell, it built a freakin’ nest there.

But all of those reasons for not doing the thing that made her so jump-for-joy happy were simply excuses. Just multiple forms of Resistance.

Resistance — the bane of all Creatives.

Getting back to joy

I’m not going to spend time right here outlining the many different forms that Resistance can take (Steven Pressfield does a brilliant job of this in his gem of a book, The War of Art).

I am going to say, however, that if you think Resistance can be overcome in one fell swoop, once and for all, you’re sadly mistaken.

Just this past week, yours truly allowed deadline urgency to push me out of my lovely routine of daily writing, making art and getting some damn exercise, thank you very much.

This did not make me a happy camper!

And just like everyone else, whenever I fall off the wagon it takes extra effort to get myself back on again.

My regular rituals create a structure that keeps me plugged into the things that make me happy. Those rituals — certain habits that I perform on a regular schedule — build up momentum over time, and any little interruption can make it hard to get the momentum back.

Hard, but not impossible!

Three secrets of the super-productive

The truth is, very, very few people don’t struggle with Resistance. It may appear that “everyone else” (or at least the select few you’re actually paying attention to) blithely cranks out work by the metric ton, without a care in the world.

In fact, if I were a betting woman I’d stake my @$$ that these high-producers, to a person, have done three things differently from everyone else:

1) They’ve figured out what matters to them, what makes them happy and why

2) They’ve figured out and implemented systems that support them in doing #1

3) They’ve also figured out how to get back to the systems in #2, whenever they’re (invariably) knocked a bit off track

Pretty simple. Though I’d be the last person to call it easy.

First steps first

My philosophy is to seek help wherever and whenever it’s available.

Classes, accountability partners, coaching, masterminds, retreats, my Creative Ignition Club or the like… if it helps you get to that thing that feeds your soul, it’s good — pure and simple.

At the Day of Genius, the virtual retreat I’m co-creating with Michelle Nickolaisen on January 8, our goal is to help you build a plan for 2012, and to equip you to stick with it so you reach those %*$#@& goals already.

In her seminar, Michelle is going to focus on #2 above — establishing “anchor habits” to help you create and maintain forward momentum.

But before we start building and implementing systems and habits to help you toward your goals, you have to figure out what the hell they are in the first place!

What makes you happy? What do you want to create? What do you want to spend your time doing? And why?

That’s what my Day of Genius seminar will be focusing on (we’re making a vision map! a kindergarten art project where you can tap into your creativity and intuition and make a physical touchstone for your biggest dreams and visions for 2012).

It’s also what today’s Mind Map to Happiness worksheet, the 3rd piece of the Day of Genius workbook, is intended to help you figure out!

(Didn’t get the previous two workbook pieces yet? Fine them here and here.)

Your turn

Download the Mind Map to Happiness worksheet, print it out and spend 10 or 15 minutes with it. Then hop on over to the LACL Facebook page and tell me what you gleaned!

My hope is that these worksheets will help you be more like that young woman in the opening scene of this post — fully engaged with the thing(s) that bring you the most joy.

Have fun, and come back in a few days for the next piece of the workbook! (Subscribe to my blog feed at the upper right to make sure you don’t miss it.)

REMINDER: You could win a ticket to the Day of Genius! Hop on over to Facebook and share your insights to any of the blog posts here that reference the Day of Genius, along with your reasons for wanting to attend, AND share and/or tweet the post, and you’ll be entered to win a full-day pass.

After the New Year, I and my panel of partial judges will pick one winner from among the commenters to join us for free. (Yes, commenting on/sharing of multiple posts will weigh heavily in your favor — we’re looking to add participants who really want to be there, so quality AND quantity will be taken into consideration.)

PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!

Oh. My. God. December is just NUTS, isn’t it?

In my Creative Ignition Club call today, one of my Igniters acknowledged that, what with 15 more hours a week at work to deal with end-of-year stuff, visiting house guests, getting ready for holiday events and whatnot, it just didn’t make sense to expect herself to maintain the same 20-minutes-a-day Creative Sandbox schedule she managed last month.

Plus there’s the fact that the projects she really wants to work on take up space, which is currently being used by house guests.

So they will have to wait. (Her projects, that is. Not the house guests.)

What’s keeping her sane in the meantime is incorporating her creative expression into daily life. Turning cookie decorating into an art project. Doing origami while watching TV with her family.

It isn’t sating her creative hunger 100%, but it’s enough that she doesn’t feel completely bereft. It’s a “band-aid” solution, and she knows it.

How to work that Band-Aid

We all have to make do with “band-aid” solutions sometimes. If that’s your situation right now, here are my suggestions for optimal happiness until you can get back to “normal.”

1) Keep your eye on the light at the end of the tunnel

“Band-aid” solutions can get you by temporarily, but unless you know it’s really only temporary, it’s all too easy to get worn down. If you know that in X days or weeks you’ll be able to indulge your creative spirit to the max again, your temporary band-aid won’t feel as frustrating. Keep reminding yourself that your crazy-ass situation is not permanent.

2) Make a hard date with yourself to get back on track

The biggest problem with “falling off the wagon” is not the falling; it’s the difficulty of getting back on.

When we’re in the habit of keeping a commitment — creative or otherwise — it has a certain momentum. All of that goes away when you fall off, and inertia is a formidable foe. It’s all too easy to let a couple of weeks slide into a couple of months, and even years. Put the odds in your favor by making a hard date to start back on your commitment.

3) Get help wherever you can

Count down to your start-back-up day (you might want to make a chart to hang on your wall, or cross off days on a calendar), and improve your chances of following through in whatever ways you can. Here are some suggestions:

• Enlist an accountability partner to check in with you before, on and after your start-back-up date.
• Share your commitment in a public forum, where you know other people will be holding you accountable.
• Determine whom among your friends and family is truly supportive of you pursuing your creative passions (NOT the ones who pay lip service while rolling their eyes — you know who they are) and let them know you could use some encouragement to get back on track.
• Book a session with a good coach around your target start-up date.

4) Eliminate the hoops

The more hoops you have to jump through, the less likely you’ll be to do the thing you really want, no matter how much you want it. Resistance is that powerful! Start preparing for your start-back-up date now by removing as many hoops as you possibly can.

I read about a guy who wanted to establish a daily running practice, but just couldn’t keep it up. Then one night he put his running shoes by his bed and went to sleep in his workout clothes. The next morning he was up and out on a run first thing. From that day on he slept in his workout clothes, and his running practice locked into place like magic.

Figure out what hoops are in your way, and do whatever you can to eliminate them. Clear off that desk or work table and pull out your supplies where they’re easy to access (just as soon as all the guests clear out, or beforehand if you can!) Set up your environment to invite you in. Keep an eye on your calendar and mark off sacred space for YOU, then make sure not to schedule ANY appointments during those times.

5) Grab “You” time whenever you can

There’s a reason I recommend a 15-minutes a day standard, even for Creatives who can frequently manage much more than that. 15 minutes is actually enough to get into that magical state of “flow,” when time stops, you lose your ego, and live wholly in the moment. And it’s a small enough chunk that it’s almost ridiculous to say you can’t make it happen.

But if you really can’t get in 15 minutes, aim for 10. Or 5. Or one. Doodle, for god’s sake. Do something to remind your creative spirit that you haven’t forgotten about her or him. And like my Igniter above, look for ways to feed your creative hunger throughout the day.

To conclude…

We all have extra-ridiculously-insane-crazy-ass periods. Sometimes, making do with a “band-aid” solution for a bit is the wisest, most self-compassionate thing we can do. When those times descend, though, treat yourself with maximum love and self-care by preparing to get back on track as quickly as possible, and do whatever you can to keep yourself nourished in the meantime.

What tips do you have for staying sane and creatively nourished when things get crazy? Share them in the comments below!

PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!

You’re a Creative. You want you need to express that inner creative drive. In small ways, in big ways — it doesn’t matter.

For Creatives, the act of creating — whether it’s painting or drawing or writing or making music or anything else — is essential. You have to create to feed your own soul. If you don’t, you feel like an animated mannequin, plastic and hollow.

But deep down (or perhaps right on the surface), you also want to touch someone (or even better, many someones) with your creations.

Let me ask you this: when you take your leave of this planet, what would you have to have accomplished in order to look back with pride?

I just read two free manifestos — both released yesterday — that address this very question. If you want to leave a legacy, if you dream of being like your success heroes, download both and read them today.

The Tower, by Chris Guillebeau

Chris Guillebeau is my Success Hero #1, for the simple reason that I discovered him at a critical moment, and as a result he became one of the big inspirations not only for this blog, but for embarking on the quest to create the life I really, really want. The title of Chris’s latest manifesto, The Tower, comes from a computer game he got hooked on while flying to Europe on one of his many jaunts across the globe.

The game became a bit of an obsession for him, and when he ruminated on why that was he realized,

The feelings we receive from a well-designed game closely replicate the feelings that we want to have in life.

The tower game gave him a clear goal, the ability to make continuous improvement over time, rewards and achievements, specific deliverables, and influence over the world contained within.

Yet aside from entertaining Chris, there was no good reason for any of it.

What if, he wondered, the laws of a simple game could be applied in real life? What if, instead of applying motivation to building imaginary worlds, we could learn to harness it for something truly useful?

We must work on our lives the way we would work on any other project. Instead of knowledge, pleasure, or happiness, the purpose of life is to create something meaningful that will endure after we’re gone.

The rest of The Tower focuses on how to go about doing that.

The Flinch, by Julien Smith

Another of my Success Heroes, Jonathan Fields, posted an interview yesterday (worth watching) with author Julien Smith, who just released a two-word-title free manifesto of his own, The Flinch.

Smith urges readers to a similar result — do great work! leave a legacy! — but where Chris Guillebeau’s The Tower manifesto inspires you to aim high, The Flinch offers some boot-camp-style training for getting past what gets in the way, so you can make a difference.

He starts out describing a boxing gym, where he goes to watch people fight, and where he notices a fundamental difference between real boxers and everyone else: if you hit them, the guys who have trained don’t flinch.

The Flinch is all about how to train yourself not to flinch. How not to let our instinct to draw back or shrink from the hard, the painful, the unpleasant stop us, so that we can do the important things we want to do.

I’ve written elsewhere that the only difference between you and your heroes is that they just do it. Smith puts it this way:

Fact: Those who face the flinch make a difference. The rest do not.

“There are enough viewers,” Smith writes.

There are enough cheerleaders. There are enough coaches and enough commentators. What there isn’t enough of are players.

His goal, with The Flinch, is to turn you into a player.

–

Download and read these free manifestos now. Then come back here and let me know your reactions.

PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!

The mugger had a firm grip on my ankles.

“NO!” I screamed, flipping onto my right hip and yanking my left leg back. I kicked back out sharply while pulling up my right leg, smashing his hand in the process. “NO!”

I flipped to my other side and repeated the process, yanking and kicking and scraping, bicycling my legs as best I could with a 180 pound man hanging onto them.

In the background, I was aware of his partner looming, even bigger than my assailant, waiting for an opportunity to pounce.

I kept yanking, kicking and scraping, yelling “NO!” with each movement, but my assailant was persistent. Every time I managed to scrape off his hand, he just grabbed on again.

It felt hopeless. My fear threatened to drown me. I heard my voice go shrill and wispy, and I felt my strength drain away…

——————-

The above scenario really happened, though thankfully, I was never in actual physical danger. My assailants were not real muggers — they were instructors for an IMPACT self-defense course — sometimes referred to as “model mugging” — covered head-to-toe in padded “armor,” including an enormous silver duct tape-padded helmet, making them look like some sort of life-sized alien Kewpie doll.

The year was 1998. I’d taken my first model mugging class from BAMM (Bay Area Model Mugging, now IMPACT Bay Area) the previous December and it had changed my life. The 25 hours of the class had whizzed by, yet my internal transformation had been so profound, at my “graduation” two weeks after the first class it felt as if was months, even years ago, when I first screwed up my courage to walk in the door.

Now I was back for more. I was eager to acquire as many “tools” in my self-defense arsenal as I could, so as soon as BAMM offered a class on multiple assailants, I signed up.

Inner Muggers

The middle session of every BAMM course always included what we called “custom fights.” Normally, the “muggers” would portray generic bad guys, but during a custom fight, each student got the opportunity to have the mugger be anyone she wanted. Some women re-enacted actual assaults from their past, and got to have them end in victory this time. Others had the muggers act out assailants in scenarios they were most afraid of.

We could also choose to have the muggers be our own “inner muggers”: the notions or beliefs we held that were doing us no good, the inner voices that told us lies about ourselves.

At that time in my life, I was really struggling with my identity as a Creative. I had a hunger to create, and I even had a fledgling business as a calligrapher and artist, but I didn’t quite believe this was… enough.

A few years before, looking for work with a nonprofit, when my mom suggested I check out a dance or art organization, I had actually sniffed at the idea. Women’s rights, children’s welfare, animal welfare, the environment — these I could see working for. But an arts agency? I just didn’t see it as worthy enough.

Those were the voices I now wanted to clear out of my head. I’d chosen a path as an Artist, and I wanted to own it. To fully embrace it. Until I could see the Way of the Artist as a valid and valuable one, I knew I’d stay stuck in a state of inner turmoil.

The Fight

For my custom fight in my BAMM class, I requested the muggers be that voice inside my head that said “being an artist is not valuable/worthy/important.” The male instructors convened in the corner to whisper their plan of attack before donning their massive silver helmets.

I stepped out onto the mat, heart pounding, mouth dry. The female instructor, going through the usual pre-fight drill, asked if I had any injuries, then turned to the muggers and called “Melissa’s ready!”

Two giant Kewpie dolls started circling, shouting “What the hell do you think you’re doing with your life?” And “You should be a doctor or a lawyer!” And “Why don’t you do something useful, like find the cure for cancer?”

Within seconds, I was sobbing. “Leave me alone!” I managed to spit out. “Being an artist is important! It IS valuable!”

And then one of them charged, and the fight was on.

I don’t remember the cheering of my classmates, or the directives called out by the female instructor — “Knee to the groin! Eye strike! Side thrust kick! On your side! On your SIDE!” All I remember is getting pulled to the ground, and fighting desperately to get that damn mugger off of me.

And that terrible feeling my my strength draining out of me.

Of all my BAMM fights — including my fights against “muggers” with guns and knives and baseball bats — that was the hardest one I ever had. Inner muggers, it turns out, are much more powerful than the external kind.

In fact, I was so distraught when the “muggers” eventually ran off, that the female instructor called one of them back for a postscript, so I could fight to a “knockout blow” and have the kinesthetic feeling of “yes, I WON.”

But I still didn’t feel like I’d won.

Perception vs. Reality

Later, over a potluck meal, we got to watch a video of our fights. I fully expected to see myself fade into a limp puddle in that video. Imagine my astonishment when, just at the moment when I remember my strength ebbing away, I saw myself kicking that mugger like a m*therf-cker!

!!!

My female instructor had assured me I was fighting strong. She’d looked astonished when I told her I thought I’d “lost” the fight. “Hmm…” she said. “Just wait til you watch the video.” It was only when I saw it on the tape that I realized I had more strength and endurance inside me than I’d known.

From Inner Mugger to Inner Transformation

I believe things began to shift from that moment on. I won’t say it was an overnight transformation, but little by little I reclaimed my creative passion as not just okay, but as ESSENTIAL.

Little by little, I deprogrammed myself of the belief that following my creative passions was somehow “less than” finding the cure for cancer. Or founding an orphanage. Or anything else that might be someone else’s wonderful and worthy Bliss, but not my own.

Now I know, deep to my core, that I was put on the planet to create, and to help other people with the same kind of creative hunger to liberate their own inner Creative.

Your Creative Expression Is Divine

Over a dozen years later, I’m as solid as granite on this fact: human beings are meant to express our creativity. It’s part of what makes us human, despite the very confused and mixed messages we get from our society at large around creativity, art and expression.

Danielle La Porte says “Your creative expression is divine.” She’s right.

You were born to create! And if you don’t allow yourself to do what you were born to do, you starve yourself and the world. The world needs our creativity — yours, mine, everyone else’s.

It sucks that we live in a time and place with such a confused notion about creative expression and drive. But hell, it’s where we are. So we’ve just got to join forces with other Creatives and make our own, damn revolution. :)

That’s why I started this blog. That’s why I created my Creative Ignition Club. We Creatives need to realize that we are not alone. We need the company of others like us, to remind us, as often as necessary, that yes, we get to do this. Yes, this is important. Yes, it is essential that we make time and space to pursue our creative passions. Yes. Yes. YES!

It took being mugged (albeit thankfully in the safety of a class!) for me to start to get it. What will it take for you?

PS — Membership in the Creative Ignition Club is 12% off through Friday, December 2 at midnight PST only. Check it out — there’s a wonderful group inside waiting to welcome you!

PPS — I cannot recommend IMPACT self defense classes highly enough. Every woman and girl should have this opportunity to reprogram and get empowered. (Men too! They have classes for you guys also!) I’ve never been in a more healing, supportive environment. Do it.

PPPS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!

Almost 17 years ago, at the beginning 1995, I picked up a calligraphy pen and fell in love with the art of making letters.

I was blissfully ignorant at the time that it generally takes 7-10 years to achieve a level of basic mastery of the craft. “How hard could this be?” I thought, “I have good handwriting, after all.”

Thank goodness for that ignorance, otherwise I might never have gotten started. As it was, I was looking for a focus, a thing to build a “hobby business” around, and calligraphy fit the bill.

I dove in, and a year and a half later, in the summer of ’96, I went to my first calligraphy conference, Soundings, which knocked me off my feet.

Never known for my placidity, I remember literally jumping up and down with the excitement of being surrounded by 500 other letter lovers. I was finally able to see and touch tools and books I’d only ever read about in catalogs (I believe my bill at the conference store was over $600). There were exhibits everywhere I looked, and inspiring keynotes every night.

I basically ate, breathed and slept calligraphy.

(Actually, I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep that week. The downside of my excitement was a killer bout of insomnia.)

I got to take amazing workshops from incredible teachers all week. Never one to pass up an opportunity, I also signed up for three one-on-one critique sessions with “big names” in the field.

Their responses to my little year-and-a-half old portfolio had me walking 6″ off the ground!

“A prodigy,” wrote one. “You’ve been doing calligraphy how long?” asked another, with disbelieving eyes.

My calligraphy friends and teachers back home had said similar words, but somehow hearing it from the out-of-town experts made it more real.

Maybe I really was good at this thing!

I left the conference chomping at the bit to charge forward into my bright future.

Except.

Except that after I got home, after I recovered from a paralyzing bout of post-conference letdown, I found myself making less work, not more.

What happened?

When I’d first started, I lived for playing at my art table. I couldn’t not create. I was baffled whenever I heard friends talk about the tricks they had to play on themselves to do their art. I was confused by all the books on the subject of getting past resistance.

I didn’t get it.

Why, I wondered, would anyone not do what they most love to do?

Now I understood.

Suddenly I was there, and it was excruciating. And I didn’t know how to get myself out of the hole.

I knew it had something to do with the new pressure I felt from having such great expectations laid on me by people I respected and wished to emulate. But I still didn’t know what to do about it.

I proceeded on my path of building a business around my skills with pen and brush and paper, but the unfettered fun and passion of that first year and a half had mostly drained away.

I used the fact that I had a business to grow (which, after my divorce, quickly graduated from “hobby business” to “this has got to pay the bills business”) as an excuse to avoid creating for my soul. And then I bitched and moaned that I never had time to do the art I really wanted.

The art form I had loved so much and felt so passionate about became mostly “just a job.”

Cut to today: Uncertainty

If only Jonathan Fields’ new book, Uncertainty: Turning Fear and Doubt into Fuel for Brilliance, had been around back then.

My copy (actually copies; I pre-ordered 3 of them) arrived on Thursday night, and I’ve been eating it up.

I’ve been anxiously waiting for Uncertainty to come out since I heard Jonathan speak at the World Domination Summit in Portland in June. The notes I took at the conference have come in very handy on many a coaching call.

Fields spoke about how humans are wired to avoid uncertainty AND to avoid the judgement of appearing wrong.

Precisely what every creative faces when approaching a project!

Think about it: if the outcome is certain, it means it’s been done before, right? “And creation,” says Fields, “isn’t about repetition.” Anything worth doing will not come with complete information about its outcome.

He spoke about specific, proven tools and techniques that help you “lean into uncertainty” so you can accomplish the big dreams and goals ahead of you, and bring your unique genius to light.

I was captivated.

But the talk was just a 20-minute taste. I wanted to read the rest of Fields’s research and conclusions. I wanted to arm myself as best as possible against the resistance that gets between me and the brilliance I so want to create.

And of course I wanted more tools in my toolbox to help the people I work with in my Creative Ignition Circles and one-on-one coaching.

My reaction?

I’m 159 pages into the 213 page book (yes, I forced myself to put it down to get this post out!) and I am not disappointed.

I’ll be sharing more in depth notes and reactions to Uncertainty over the next few weeks, but the upshot is, if you have creative dreams and desires, get this book!

I’ve added Uncertainty to my library of must-read texts for creatives who want to understand not only what makes them tick (or not), but how to tick along much more effectively.

I’m excited to benefit from Jonathan Fields’ research and to implement what he learned in order to increase my ability to bring my own unique gifts to the world.

Stay tuned…

Have you read the book yet? I’m curious what your response is.

PS – If you liked this post, please tweet, share, like and/or send it to a friend you think might like it too.

Today I said goodbye to my first Creative Ignition Circle – 2 months of weekly phone rendezvous (rendezvouses? can you tell my French is nonexistent?) with just a few other creatives. Rendezvous(es) filled with brainstorming, encouragement and validation that creative work is not only NOT a selfish act, but IS essential to our very being.

The transformations that have occurred in just 2 months have been beyond inspiring. Everyone has challenges and roadblocks – everyone. The brilliance comes in figuring out how to get over, under or around them.

It’s amazing how the mere act of talking through challenges while other people who get you bear witness clarifies one’s thoughts. In the past two months I have witnessed off-the-Richter-scale mindset shifts, fostered and incubated in the space provided by the Creative Ignition Circle.

Magic.

One of the members on the call today speculated what amazingness she – all of us – could accomplish in a year of this kind of of Circle. Hoo-baby! I look forward to running a year-long circle for those ready for that level of commitment. (In the meantime, sign up here if you’d like advance notice of the next (2-month) Circle session, coming up soon.)

In today’s video, I share a couple of big lessons learned in this Circle, involving saying “no,” and saying “yes.” Two words that every creative needs to know how to use appropriately and effectively.

Watch the video, and then tell me, what can you say no to, in order to say yes to your creative life?

PS – Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!

You know that little voice that whispers in your ear, “You suck!”

Yeah, that one.

That’s the Suck Duck.*

The Suck Duck sits on your shoulder, waiting for the right moment to quack at you:

“Ew. That’s not good enough! Who do you think you’re kidding? You suck!“

“You’re not qualified to do that! You suck!“

“Man, oh, man, what in the hell were you thinking trying something new? Just stick with what you know, you dummy! You suck!“

“Oh, no – not perfect. Into the trash can that goes! You suck!“

In other words, the Suck Duck is the voice of judgement.

The voice of perfectionism.

The Suck Duck is one manifestation of that bain of all creatives: resistance. Or as Steven Pressfield calls it, in his gem of a book, The War of Art, Resistance.

I love how Pressfield personifies Resistance, as an entity with will and malignant intent. Somehow the metaphor makes it easier to wrap one’s head around. Easier to identify the enemy and take arms against it.

And when the metaphor is a duck,** well, it just brings it down to size, doesn’t it?

A duck, say a rubber duck, could be drop-kicked out the window, for example.***

Or locked up in a cupboard.

Or even, I don’t know, made friends with and transformed into a friendly duck, perhaps.****

It’s all up to you and your personal style.

Whatever, the whole point is, when that voice starts quacking at you, recognize it for what it is: the Suck Duck. NOT benign reality.

Then dispatch it.

Dispatching the Suck Duck

The Suck Duck is hard to kill (and hey, I’m not one for violence anyway‡), but here’s what you can do:

Take the Suck Duck off your shoulder, and put it in another room. Or drop-kick the Suck Duck out the window. Or buy the Suck Duck an imaginary plane ticket to Timbuktu and send him off.

I assure you, the Suck Duck will probably find its way back, and more quickly than you’d like.

So just send it off again.

The point is, make a habit of noticing when the Suck Duck is talking to you (hint: it often sounds a lot like you, and/or a lot like The Truth). And make a habit of taking the Suck Duck off your shoulder and drop-kicking it out the window (or whatever).

That’s one of the things I do when I teach or lead Playshops, classes or retreats: I remind people – over and over if necessary – to banish the Suck Duck. Because really, not much creative amazingness can happen when the Suck Duck is in the room.

That is why, although I’m extremely uncomfortable with the entire notion of hunting (you know, like with rifles and stuff), I believe all artists and creatives should go hunting for the Suck Duck, preferably on a very regular basis.

Let me know how your Suck Duck hunting goes. How many times did you spot the Suck Duck today, this week, this month? And what did you do to dispatch it?

*Kid Beyond, one of my favorite teachers at Jazz Camp West, was the first person I heard refer to the Suck Duck. I am blatantly stealing his metaphor to share with you here, but I totally got it from him. Just so you know. Visit his website, go watch him perform, love him up. He’s awesome.

**For any Fluent Self/Havi Brooks fans out there, huge apologies to Selma. The Suck Duck is an entirely different species of duck, no relation to Selma. Not a real duck (of either the feathery or rubber variety) at all. Just so you know.

***Obviously you wouldn’t do this with a real duck. I’m very partial to ducks, and would never want to do anything to intentionally or unintentionally encourage cruelty to ducks, or any other animals.***** My favorite charity, fyi, to which I send money every month, is Animals Asia, which works to stop cruelty to moon bears (and also dogs and cats) in China and Vietnam. They ROCK! Check them out!

****Okay, I threw that one in there for any soft-hearted readers who can’t stomach the idea of dispatching a duck, even of the evil, fantastical and metaphoric variety. Me, I’m all for dispatching. But of course ONLY the evil, fantastical and metaphoric variety. (See *** above.)

*****With the possible exception of mosquitoes. And fleas. And cockroaches. Though in truth I wouldn’t want to encourage cruelty towards them (I really do believe that cruelty is just plain wrong, even to annoying insects) but I have been known to kill my fair share (sorry PETA).

‡See ***** above.

PS – If you liked this post, please tweet, share, like and/or send it to a friend you think might like it too.