A few days ago I got an email from Barbara, a textile and mosaic artist, that touched a nerve with me.
The problem that Barbara is struggling with is exactly the same problem that I had way back when. I know it’s a problem that a lot of other people share, so I thought I’d address it here on the podcast/blog.
If you listened to (or read) the last episode, #59, you’ll find a lot of overlaps with this one. That’s how it works: all the blocks and resistances and stucknesses that hold us back are intimately related and woven together, and the solutions for getting past them are, too.
Everything is interconnected, so when you learn to handle one challenge, you’ll find that you actually know how to handle lots of challenges.
Here’s Barbara’s letter (edited a bit for clarity):
Hi Melissa,
I’ve noticed that the more I care about a textile, or a mosaic, the harder it is for me to get it done. If I care less, I work more easily, and I’m not waiting until I’m good enough—whatever that means—to do a subject justice.
My teenage son, who writes and acts, brought this point up independently a few weeks ago. He thinks the kids who would like to be professional actors, and who don’t have as many other interests outside of theater, don’t seem to preform as fluidly as the kids who are doing acting just for fun. (The serious kids also tend to act more like jerks, according to him, but that’s another story.)
I enjoy making the art I’m doing now, and it’s great fun for me to see work evolving from my workbooks to finished designs, even if it takes me several years. But in a larger sense, it is not THAT important to me, which is why I can do it as much as I have. It’s not my first love — I actually want to write most of all.
I did take some workshops [a long time ago], but I haven’t written seriously in many years . . . I care too much.
I never thought of myself as an artist, so I am not particularly critical of the work, since my artwork was never part of my core identity. I am thrilled when what I sketched in my notebooks comes to life.
It doesn’t bother me when I make a mistake, or things don’t turn out as I envisioned. It’s all a learning process, and that’s fine. Why can’t I be the same about writing? So yes, my caring too much — my ego — is my biggest challenge.
Thanks,
Barbara
Ah, yes. As I said, Barbara, your problem is almost an exact copy of my own. I actually started making art back in the mid-90s as a way to procrastinate from writing!
I wanted to be a writer so badly — a good writer, a successful writer — and that choked me the heck up. I wanted everything I wrote to be amazing, but everything I wrote felt nowhere close to amazing, so I choked.
I wanted to be a writer so badly that I couldn’t write a thing.
The Truth About Wanting
Our logical minds think this is weird, that it’s hard to do the thing you want most, but the counter-intuitive truth is this:
The more important something is to you, the more resistance you’re likely to feel. (Click to tweet.)
Your expectations are higher, which means more pressure. And pressure and creative expression do not mix well.
When I started making art, it was purely for fun. There was no passion attached to it — just curiosity.
So guess what? I made art all the time! It felt easy and fun.
I mean, it was often hard in that it was technically challenging — I don’t mean it was simple — but my ego and identity were not all wrapped up in how I or anyone else judged my work.
And as a result, I was able to approach art really freely and joyfully.
For a time.
From Smug to Stuck
During my first year or so of making art, I remember hearing lots of other artists complain about how hard it was to get themselves to make stuff, and I just didn’t get it.
Why would it possibly be hard to do the things you love most to do?
I confess I felt a little smug.
Not for long, though. About a year and a half after I started, I went to a calligraphy conference, where over 500 calligraphers gathered to convene, take workshops, shop for supplies, and go to lectures and exhibits.
One of the most exciting parts of the conference for me was getting feedback from three “big name” calligraphers in private half-hour sessions.
The feedback I got was so encouraging and validating. All three of them, plus my workshop teachers, told me how “talented” I was, and how much “potential” I showed.
I was walking on air for the rest of the week!
But guess what: when I got home, I found myself more and more stuck.
My ego and identity were now so wrapped up in being a “good calligrapher,” and being “talented,” with “lots of potential,” that it felt like nothing I made could possibly live up to those expectations!
So I mostly made nothing.
History Repeats Itself
If you think about what happened to me with writing, doesn’t this sound a little familiar? Now I can look back and see that my stuckness with calligraphy and my stuckness with writing were exactly the same issue: I wanted to be good too badly.
And because my expectations were nothing short of excellence, everything I did fell short. My head was packed with “Everything I Do Sucks” Gremlins, who were so loud that I couldn’t hear any other comment about my work.
Unfortunately, it took me about fifteen years to figure out how to deal with this issue!
But the good news is, I did learn to deal with it, and you can, too!
The Fix
The past-time me wanted nothing more than to be a prolific creator — first a writer, and then when I gave up on that, I wanted to be a prolific artist. But back then, I was the opposite of prolific.
I was constipated!
Now I actually am prolific. I mean, I could always be a lot more prolific, but I exhibited 170 paintings in my artist open studio a few weekends ago. I’ve written enough content on this blog, and other blogs, and ebooks, and class content to fill multiple books.
This is a 180-degree reversal from my years of stuckness.
So what changed?
Ultimately, it all comes down to imperfectionism.
In other words, I allow myself to create crap.
It’s really as easy as that.
The Challenge
But omigosh, this is so hard! We spend our lives learning to be competent at things, learning to do things well, and our egos want so desperately to be judged good and worthy.
But the thing is, in order to get good at any skill, you have to let yourself suck first. (Click to tweet.)
Or, as I like to say:
We need the crap to fertilize the good stuff! (Click to tweet.)
If we don’t let ourselves produce any crap, we end up producing nothing (ahem — constipation!)
Giving myself permission to create crap — in fact, giving myself assignments to create crap — has freed me up tremendously.
I’ve had to work at this. Learning to let go of the outcome doesn’t usually happen overnight. But like everything else worth doing, if you keep setting and resetting your intention, you’ll get there.
The Creative Sandbox
My Creative Sandbox principles principles have been key for me in this process, and they’ve helped countless others, too.
Now, whenever I go into create mode, whether writing, or making art, or making music, or anything else, my intention is do it from inside the Creative Sandbox.
In other words, I get into the mindspace of being a four-year-old, where it’s all about exploration and play. Where there is no wrong. Where the purpose is joy in the process. Period.
(Not surprisingly, this is a big part of what we work on inside my Creative Sandbox community!)
There’s usually push-back about some of this, which goes something like the following: “But if I allow myself to make crap, if I let go of the outcome and focus only on the process, won’t I only ever make crap?”
It’s a common misconception, but an understandable one. The irony is that the only way to access your richest, deepest, most original creative expression is to let yourself make crap. (Click to tweet.)
It can be hard to wrap your head around, but I challenge you to try it.
Just give it a try and see what actually happens, not what you’re afraid will happen.
Remember, just because you allow yourself to create crap doesn’t mean you will. But it does mean you’ll create! (Click to tweet.)
Practice Makes Permanent
Again, I do not claim that freeing yourself from the stuckness that comes from caring too much will happen quickly or easily. But the solution really is that simple: let yourself suck.
As with anything else worth doing, it takes practice. So practice.
Practice allowing yourself to suck. Practice focusing on the process, and bringing your focus back when it wanders off into judgment. Practice treating yourself with compassion — or as I like to say:
Don’t beat yourself up, love yourself up! (Click to tweet.)
If you’d like some help at this, I made you a visual reminder of what to focus on: my manifesto poster, with both the Creative Sandbox Manifesto, and the Imperfectionist Manifesto.
To download your own copy, just click the button below. (Plus, you’ll also get an opportunity to grab my signature ecourse, Creative Sandbox 101, for 82% off the regular price!)
Now go get creating!
And Barbara, I hope this helps you get writing.
Quotes In this Episode
The more important something is to you, the more resistance you’re likely to feel. (Click to tweet.)
In order to get good at any skill, you have to let yourself suck first. (Click to tweet.)
We need the crap to fertilize the good stuff! (Click to tweet.)
The only way to access your richest, deepest, most original creative expression is to let yourself make crap. (Click to tweet.)
Remember, just because you allow yourself to create crap doesn’t mean you will. But it does mean you’ll create! (Click to tweet.)
Don’t beat yourself up, love yourself up! (Click to tweet.)
Resources In this Episode
Creative Sandbox Manifesto blog post (or listen to this podcast episode, or this LIVE performance)
Imperfectionist Manifesto blog post
Free Manifestos poster (free download!)
Thanks for Listening!
Thanks so much for joining me this week. Have some feedback you’d like to share? Leave a note in the comment section below!
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Now go get creating!
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Dawn Wolfe says
If you’re not fully invested in an endeavor, whether it’s singing or art, for example, how can you improve? Meaning for me to let go and make it OK to create crap, I need to not care. Not caring means I’m not invested. Not being invested and not giving a crap about crap sounds like the road to nowhere. Make sense? It’s like a student whose teacher says she doesn’t “apply herself” in school. We’re taught that we need to apply ourselves to improve. I may suck at guitar playing, but if I don’t care about it and work at it to get better, I’ll always suck. Thoughts?
Melissa Dinwiddie says
I love this question, Dawn! This is the really challenging thing about living a full-color life, fully immersed in creative joy.
Of COURSE we care! Of COURSE we want to improve!
But in the moment of action, we MUST let go of the outcome. Otherwise there is no action.
I care DEEPLY about all of my creative endeavors. I want to be an EXCELLENT artist, an EXCELLENT calligrapher, an EXCELLENT writer, an EXCELLENT improvisor, an EXCELLENT musician. In order to start to approach excellence, however, I MUST allow myself to be WHERE I AM RIGHT NOW.
I am always aiming for the target — which is somewhere “over there,” far away — while at the same time allowing myself to be (and hopefully ENJOYING being) where I am RIGHT NOW.
It’s confusing, but it’s true: the more we care, the more we have to work to let go in order to create.
Make sense? If not, please ask — I’m happy to continue the dialogue. 🙂