Unless someone tells you, there’s no way to know. #saturday #morning #creativity #quote
Photoquote: Allowing Yourself to Create Badly…
Why All Artists Should Go Duck Hunting
It’s time for another classic from the archives! Having just returned from a week at Jazz Camp West, it seemed appropriate to pull this one out, originally published on September 25, 2011, and inspired by a teacher at Jazz Camp West a couple of years ago. Enjoy! xoMelissa
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.*******
****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.)
***** 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!
******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.
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Endings, Exits, Edges and Buttered Sourdough Toast
When I was a kid, one of the best parts of the weekend was my dad’s sourdough.
Living in the San Francisco Bay Area, we were lucky to share our home with microorganisms that make the best sourdough on the planet, and my dad had it down to an art form. On Friday or Saturday night he’d pull out the ceramic container that lived in the fridge, mix the weird-smelling sponginess inside together with flour and water, cover the bowl with a dish towel and put it up on the top of the cupboard, near the ceiling, where the sourdough-making beasties were most likely to hang out and add their magic to the mix.
The next morning we’d be treated to a super-sour batch of pancakes (my favorite) or waffles (my brother’s favorite), or sometimes biscuits (okay, I lied — these were definitely my favorite).
Weekend brunches were the best at my house!
In addition to the quickbreads above, there were a couple of years there when Pop also made killer sourdough bread once or twice a week. He even bought a special set of Pyrex™ baking tubes, which made eerily perfect cylindrical loaves, which we in turn sliced into perfect rounds of bread.
Sourdough bread is definitely best toasted, and the toaster in our house got a lot of use.
Which meant, of course, that we got very practiced at buttering said toast.
My dad was the pro — his toast was always impeccably buttered, with an even layer of melted butter (or more likely in our house, margarine) from edge to edge. Mom’s technique was more slapdash, resulting in a big lump of butter (margarine) in the center, with the toast getting progressively drier and more butter-poor the closer you got to the crust.
Mom loves butter (margarine too, actually), and would be happy to eat it straight out of the carton, so her technique worked great for her needs. When you’re sprinkling your cinnamon sugar, however, and you want it to cling consistently to every millimeter of your toast round, a mostly-dry piece of toast with a chunk of partially-melted butter (or margarine) in the center just doesn’t cut it.
I was determined to learn to butter toast like my dad did. What was Pop’s secret?
Edges.
Pop learned a saying from someone else (his own father, perhaps?), which stuck with me:
“Butter around the outside, and the inside will take care of itself.”
Or, to be a little clearer:
“Butter along the edges, and the middle will take care of itself.”
In other words, start spreading your butter not in the middle, but along the outer edges, by the crust. As you circle around your slice of toast, keep spreading the butter at the outer edge of the still-dry part of the toast. You’ll end up buttering in an ever tightening spiral, until at last you reach the center.
It’s a thing of beauty.
What does this have to do with living a creative life?
I will explain, dear reader.
Several months back I had a half-day studio session with Cairene.
(Brief interruption to say: Run, do not walk, to work with this woman! And no, that is not an affiliate link. Virtual hugs to the wonderful Laureen for pointing me in Cairene’s direction. And yes, it’s a random coincidence that their names sort of rhyme.)
When the student is ready, the teacher appears, they say. I was oh-so ready for Cairene, who pointed out (among many other things) the importance of giving attention to the edges of your work: exits, endings, transitions from one “container” to the next.
Exits, Endings, and Transitions
The time I spend writing this post, for example, is a container. At some point I’ll need to shift my attention away from writing a blog post and toward the next thing.
Picking my sweetie up at the airport, say. That’s another container, and something else I have to do today (in about twenty minutes, as it happens).
If I’m going to get to the airport in a timely fashion, so my sweetie doesn’t have to wait out on the curb for a ridiculous amount of time, I need to plan ahead not just for the time it will take me to drive to the airport, but for the time it will take me to transition out of writing a blog post and into the next thing.
What do I need to do to wrap up my writing session? Save the blog post, or if it’s done, schedule it for publication. Bring my attention out of my computer and onto what I need to get myself safely to the airport.
But I actually need to do a lot more than that.
In this case, I need to put on some real clothes (unless I want to drive to the airport in my pajamas), feed the cat — and, oh, yeah, since I’m dog-sitting for my parents’ German Shepherd, Chloe, I also need to let the dog out and feed her, too.
So it’s not really just a matter of stopping writing and *bam!* instantaneously driving to the airport. There is a whole slew of “transition stuff” that needs to be taken into consideration if the rest of my morning is to go smoothly. And just like the buttered sourdough toast, if I pay attention to those edges, I’ll have a much more pleasant experience.
When I get back from the airport, what needs to happen in order for me to turn my attention back to writing, or to whatever container is next?
If I think about these things in advance, it’s truly amazing how much difference it makes!
My Usual M.O.
What I typically tend to do is forget about things like the fact that I have to feed the critters before I can hop in the car, so I extend my writing container for longer than I really have time for. Then I end up scrambling like a madwoman, cursing a lot, and being embarrassingly late for things like picking my sweetie up from the airport.
What I typically tend to do is not think about endings, edges, and transitions, and that means great stretches of otherwise productive time gets lost in a void of never-ending-transition.
My day is in constant danger of becoming a black-hole of spinning my wheels. Or to stick with my toast metaphor, a piece of mostly-dry sourdough toast with a clump of mostly unmelted butter in the middle.
But now, thanks to Cairene, my usual M.O. is changing. Instead of just focusing on what I have to do, I’m learning to shift my focus just an inch to the left and right of that, to how I’m going to end a given container, transition out of it, and transition into the next thing.
Butter around the edges and the middle will take care of itself.
Focus on the edges, endings, and transitions of the tasks, activities, and “containers” of my day, and the whole day flows ever so much more smoothly.
Now I’m going to get dressed, feed some hungry critters, and make myself some cinnamon toast before heading off to the airport to pick up MB.
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
Photo by Thristian at Flickr
The Great Bedtime Experiment
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
maywill 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!
5 Tips for Staying Sane & Creatively Nourished During December
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!
In Which Dangerously Delicious Becomes Downright Powerful (Announcing the Creative Ignition Club!)
It started off very innocently.
A simple idea, really. Just a little tool box for creatives, to kick-start them into a daily creative practice. Just for one month.
A kit to get them creatively ignited…
Because if you can hang onto a daily practice for a month, it’s pretty much proof that you can hang onto it for as long as you want.
And my goal is to get everyone with a hunger to create doing their creative thing.
So I dreamed, and tinkered, and started working like mad.
(Thank goodness for circuit-breaker boyfriends!)
But as these things so often do, what started off small and innocent, quickly grew to something much bigger and… well… downright powerful!
Here’s how it happened:
Me the Innocent: “Hmmm… My Creative Ignition Circle members get so much out of the group interaction, on the phone and online… Wouldn’t it be awesome to offer some kind of online forum and maybe a couple of conference calls for the first group of Creative Ignition Kit buyers?”
Me the Manic Dreamer: “Yeah! But you know, a forum is so dry and… linear. So un-aesthetic. What would be really awesomelicious is if we could create some kind of hangout that feels more like the secret Facebook page where Circlers hang out. Where we can post pictures and videos and have them show up right there in the feed, instead of having to dig through a bunch of text to find stuff we want to look at.
Me the Innocent: “Ahh, yes. That would be great! I wonder if there’s anything like that available…”
Mmm… That dangerously delicious question: “I wonder…?” When Me the Manic Dreamer gets hold of a notion, it all-too-often triggers an obsessive-compulsive quest to Figure Stuff Out.
[Read: Manic searching of the Net-that-is-Inter for a Facebook-like platform for my Kit buyers, followed by discovery of said platform, followed by Multiple Unsuccessful Attempts to make platform play nice with blog software, accompanied by much gnashing of teeth and tearing of hair.]
Usually followed by a moment of throwing my hands in the air and giving up entirely.
[Read: Firm decision to Just Stick With a Forum, dammit.]
Followed in turn by an upsurge of renewed determination. I Will. Make. This. Work.
And extreme-sport-like climbing of technological learning curves.
[Read: Several manic-obsessive insomniac nights and early mornings putting. Up. A. Brand. New. Website. {creativeignitionclub.com, in case you’re wondering}]
And that’s how the Creative Ignition Club was born!
A week ago, it was a “hmm… wouldn’t that be nice someday?” dream that I didn’t quite believe was possible.
Today, it’s an actual reality.
A home for anyone with a hunger to create and a big heart. (Because it’s about supporting each other, having each others’ backs, lifting each other up so that each one of us rises with the tide.)
A way to spread the deliciousness of my Creative Ignition Circles out to more people.
(Because after all, there’s only one of me, and I only take 4 members in a Circle at a time.)
From Innocent to Powerful
Now, instead of offering an online forum and a couple of conference calls just for the first group of Creative Ignition Kit buyers, I am delighted to announce the Creative Ignition Club, where people can get sparked by the Kit (included with every Club membership), but stay stoked by the community.
After all, my Circlers continue to meet up online, even after their 2-month session is over. A community of passionate, loving, supportive creatives has already started sprouting. Let’s water it!
So what is the Creative Ignition Club, anyway?
Glad you asked!
It’s open-heartedness and sharing. It’s playfulness and experimentation. It’s vulnerability and safety. It’s validation and accountability and empowerment and self-love.
In a nutshell, it’s a vibrant community of creatives. And a lot more.
What happens in the Creative Ignition Club?
Lots of stuff. Here’s a snapshot:
- There’s a Forum that’s much richer and juicier than your typical online forum. A digital home where we share what’s going on in our creative lives, help each other brainstorm, work on whatever gets in the way and push each other forward toward our biggest visions for ourselves.
- Amazing, brilliant, big-hearted people, who actively support each other. The love and brilliance in this group is a-ma-zing.
- Really, really good listeners, with ideas and possibilities to suggest that you may never have imagined in your wildest dreams.
- Smaller Groups inside the larger community, where sub-circles of members can interact around specific interests, topics and themes. (Or not. Some people hang out only in the smaller Groups; others stick with the main one. Some people float in between. Up to you.)
- Did I mention that YOU can also create your own Groups? Yep. You can. Want a Group just for left-handed German-speaking book artists who also juggle? Go for it!
- Every month you get to rendezvous with me in a Club-wide conference call, where I put on my X-ray Vision Goggles and help get people past their Sticking Points, and everybody gets to contribute.
- We also do a Playshop every month, where we rendezvous on the phone again, but this time to do our creative thing. I create a bubble of safety for everyone, we kick the Suck Duck out the door, and we all go play in the Creative Sandbox for a set amount of time. Then we re-convene to check in and do it all again. Then we re-convene (again) to check in and say goodbye. (Everyone is pretty high at this point, while being at the same time also totally grounded. It’s really cool.)
- You get answers. And insights. And ideas. And epiphanies. And earth-shaking paradigm shifts. Sometimes partnerships spring up. It’s amazing.
- You also get a powerful kick-start, in the form of the Creative Ignition Kit – a whole toolbox of goodies and inspiration to keep you doing your creative thing every day for a whole month:
- Daily emails to inspire you and keep you on track (very brief, to keep the focus on your creative time!)
- A hand-drawn (by me!) downloadable workbook/journal, to chart your journey
- A hand-drawn (also by me!) downloadable wall chart, to check off your commitment goal each day
- A hand-drawn (by me too!) downloadable Commitment Contract, to concretize your commitment to your creative self
- A weekly video to keep you jazzed, and keep the Resistance at bay
- A meditation mp3, to get you grounded and clear and ready to work (or play!)
- A special “Emergency Pack” to be opened only in case of emergency (ie, if you miss a day of your commitment)
- There are also some cool bonuses, like the fact that you get first dibs and super-special pricing on new products and programs, and you even get to help me develop some of them.
- Plus a $50 discount on any Inner Circle/Creative Ignition Circle group coaching mastermind as long as you’re an active member.
- Oh, and 3-month and 12-month members also get my Playshop-In-A-Box – the recording of the original Playshop I offered in September, including 6 tutorial videos. (Which will soon be on my shop shelves with a price tag of $37, fyi.)
- And of course, you get to interact with me and ask me any questions you want whenever I’m hanging out in the Club.
All that (and more) for $54 for 1 month, $72 for 3 months, or $198 for a full year. (And the first three members who sign up or a full year get a 1/2-hour private phone or Skype session with me.)
That’s just a taste. Just words. You really have to experience it to know what it’s like.
And now you can.
Or soon, at least. Monday, to be exact. That’s when I’m opening the doors to new members.
(But if you already know this is for you, sign up here to get on the waiting list, and I might just let you in a day or two early…)
As for me, I’m headed to bed for some much-needed rest…
PS – Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
Bubble Bath for the Spirit
When was the last time you played?
I mean Just-For-You-To-Make-A-Mess-With-Your-Creative-Thing play.
As recently as last summer, if you’d asked me that, I’d have said “Way too long ago..” Maybe you can relate.
But even if you’ve taken up my 15 Minutes a Day creative challenge and are making time every day for play, wouldn’t it be nice to have a longer chunk of time?
Sometimes that seems so hard to come by, doesn’t it?
For years, the only time I had any time to play at making art was at my annual calligraphy retreat in March. (Did you catch that? Annual. As in, once a year. My only time to play at all.) 5 days in a beautiful retreat center, a 90 minute drive away. Gourmet meals, no phones, no computers and nothing on the agenda except to make art at my very own work play station.
Bliss.
Every year I would come home determined to create a home retreat for myself, once a month.
Or maybe once a quarter.
Or even just once…
It never happened.
There’s something about signing up for something, committing to it publicly (with my pocketbook, no less!), setting aside time on the calendar to get completely away from all distractions.
You would not believe the amount of art I would come home with! And even better, the ideas! the inspiration!
I’m always so recharged and refreshed after the retreat that it feels like I’ve had a bubble bath for my spirit. “Calgon, take me away!”
Announcing…
Which is why I’m brewing up some retreats of my own, to offer YOU.
Sometime down the road, I’ll be hosting in-person retreats and workshops (I’ll let subscribers know about that first, so sign up in the form at the upper right if you’d like info when I’ve got it).
But first, I’m offering a teeny, tiny taster – a retreat that won’t require you to drive or fly hundreds of miles to attend.
A Playshop!
What if you could get a mini-retreat, a playshop to experiment with paper and paint in the community of other creative souls?
Right in your own home.
Well, now you can!
At 1:00 pm on Tuesday, September 27, I’m offering the very first of what I hope will be many playshops.
Play, Flow, Write, GO! A telephone playshop in improvisational art for the soul
We’ll spend 90 minutes letting go of perfection, focusing on the process, and just painting/drawing/writing our little hearts out.
PLUS: I’ll share the secret techniques I use to create the art for my not-quite-daily ArtSparks (like the pieces shown right here).
And to get the most fun and play out of our time on the phone together, I’m going to give you all the goods in exclusive videos in advance of the actual playshop. So you can get all my secret techniques on your own time and be ready to just PLAY when we gather together (virtually) on the 27th.
These purely optional videos will show you:
- How to stretch watercolor paper so it won’t buckle and curl up when it gets wet with paint
- My favorite materials and where to get them
- The process I use to create my ArtSpark pieces, from start to finish
- How I add words to my art
It may be an entirely different way of working playing for you, which, if you tend to be a product-oriented perfectionist (as I am), you might find incredibly liberating.
And that’s before the actual playshop!
When we’re on the phone together (or when you’re listening to the recording later, if you can’t make the actual call), I’ll create a bubble for us of safety and encouragement, and you’ll have time to try out the techniques in the video, or just play however you want.
We’ll also have a couple of times to check in with the group, and if you feel like sharing any of your creations, you’ll get to participate in an exclusive post-playshop show right here on the blog, just by emailing me pics of what you made.
The details again:
Tuesday, September 27
1:00-2:30 pm (Pacific Time)
(That’s 2-3:30 Mountain, 3-4:30 Central, 4-5:30 Eastern)
Oh, yeah, and the price: just $30, which includes unlimited access to the bonus video tutorials forever. AND the exclusive Playshop Participants Art Show here on Living A Creative Life.
Plus I’ll send a recording of the call to everyone who registers, so you’ll still be able to take the playshop, whether you can make the call live.
Sound fun? I’ll be opening the cart in a few days. Sign up here if you’d like first dibs:
It’s Not How You Do It, It’s THAT You Do It
Last week, one of my Creative Ignition Circle members (or as I like to call them, Igniters) posted in our secret Facebook group that she hadn’t achieved one of the goals she’d set for herself for the week. She was feeling like a loser, beating herself up for falling off the wagon, and wondering if she should even come to the weekly call that night.
“You’d better come to the call!” I wrote in response (I even threatened to send my henchmen across the country to knock down her door if she didn’t!), and pointed her to last week’s video blog, which just happened to be about falling off the wagon. (Talk about timing, eh?)
Thank goodness she did call in, because the changes she made as a result of that evening’s 15-minute “hot-seat” were huge.
Instead of wallowing in “I suck,” she used her “falling off the wagon” experience to recommit to what she really wanted. Instead of letting her beat herself up, I pulled the proverbial whip from her hand and encouraged her to pick herself up and…
Correct Forward
It’s a matter of perspective. Instead of berating yourself for what you did wrong, ask: What do I want to do differently? How am I going to make things better moving ahead?
Beating yourself up is a colossal waste of time and energy. Correcting forward is a way to transform that “failure” into a future success.
That, alone, is a great lesson in the power of persevering, despite feeling like you’ve “blown it.” My Igniter is certainly not the first person to have experienced the despairing feeling of falling off the wagon – it’s happened to me more times than I can count, and I’ll wager it’s happened to you too.
Here’s the most interesting part, though:
This particular Igniter was beating herself up for not managing to make it to an event she’d planned to attend, and yet, she had managed to spend 15 minutes at her creative thing almost every single day since our last call.
Somehow, the fact that she’d missed the one event completely overshadowed in her own mind the enormous achievement of sticking with her daily commitment for a whole week!
It’s all too easy to notice where you’re falling down, and utterly disregard where you’re making progress, where you’re succeeding, where you’re doing well.
I’m no stranger to this trap. Just today I was meeting with Susan, my life coach, feeling badly about myself because, although I’ve been creating every day, this past week I had two music & comedy gigs coming up and was focused more on music and writing than on visual art, so I didn’t manage to paint every single day.
Call it…
The extra challenge of the Bliss-Diverse
My internal conversation went something like this:
Me 1: Aren’t you supposed to be modeling your 15 Minutes a Day challenge, playing in the Creative Sandbox every single day for at least 15 minutes? You’re going to come across like a hypocrite!
Me 2: Hey, give yourself a break! You’re still managing to produce 5 new little ArtSpark artworks every week. Does it matter what your art-making schedule is? Isn’t the important thing that you’re doing it, and keeping your toe in the water of your creative stream?
Me 3: Not to mention the fact that you always advise other people to find the working/playing method that works for them. 15 Minutes a Day is your suggestion as a way to get started, an invitation to try – that’s all. It was never meant as a prescription, or a formula! Everyone is going to have a different ideal working play schedule, and that’s how it should be.
In today’s meeting, Susan pulled the proverbial whip out of my hand, just as I had done with my Igniter, and asked “What would you say to a client who called you out on not doing your ArtSpark art every day?”
That’s when Me #4 jumped in:
Me 4: Um, excuse me, have you noticed that you are still playing in the Creative Sandbox every day, and for much more than 15 minutes? You may not be playing with paint and paper, but you’re still playing, my dear! Rotating your focus from passion to passion comes with the territory for Bliss-Diverse folks such as yourself. Scanners, Multi-Passionates, Renaissance Souls, Passion-Pluralites are always going to be pulled in different directions, and as long as you’re creating, as long as you’re feeding that inner creative spark, it doesn’t matter which particular Bliss you’re focused on.
Which is pretty much what I would say to the imaginary client who questioned me on my “inconsistent” work play habits.
It’s not how you do it, it’s THAT you do it
The thing I’m most pleased with about the life I’ve created is that, if I take my Passion-Plurality into consideration, my work play habits are, in fact, more consistent than they’ve ever been.
For some people, getting into their work play space at the same time every day and working for a set amount of time is the most effective way for them to battle Resistance (as Steven Pressfield refers to it in The War of Art) and get creating.
For others, three full days a week in the studio will be the key.
For others, it will be a different formula altogether.
In the same way, some creatives are happy focusing on one Bliss – and only one Bliss – for years and years, or even for a lifetime.
Others of us are compelled by a multitude of Blisses.
The upshot
I’m a firm believer in the importance of some kind of regularity to your practice – some way to keep your toe always in the creative stream.
But exactly what that ideal practice will look like depends entirely on you.
As long as you’re not justifying a “practice” that actually keeps you stuck in Resistance and avoiding doing your creative thing, the “right” practice is the one that works for you, period.
Tell me, what is your ideal creative practice? Are you doing it? If not, when will you start?
PS – If you liked this post, please tweet, share, like and/or send it to a friend you think might like it too.
How to Win Your Creative Battles and Be a Victor in the War of Art
Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There never was a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny. This second, we can turn the tables on Resistance.
This second, we can sit down and do our work.~ Steven Pressfield, The War of Art
Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art has been on my “must read” list for longer than I can remember. I’m not sure what took me so long to just buy the damn book and read it (Resistance, anyone?), but if, like me, you’ve been on the fence with this one, don’t wait. Just jump. Quick.
Far from the heavy tome I feared it would be, The War of Art is a little gem of a book. It’s short enough to be consumed in one long or a few not-so-long sittings, and divided into tiny, bite-sized “chapters” of no more than a couple of pages, and often as short as a couple of sentences.
In other words, totally non-intimidating.
It’s the kind of book you’ll want to keep within arm’s reach in your creative workspace, to flip open to a random page when you need a little boost. A little reminder of how freaking important your creative work is, and that you’re not alone, or crazy, for having maybe the teensiest bit of a hard time getting to said work.
That last phrase? Totally sarcastic.
The truth is, if you’re like 99.999% of us, you frequently have an excruciatingly painful feels-like-you’re-pushing-a-three-ton-boulder-up-a-hill hard time getting to said work.
Or getting said work to a state of done-ness.
And The War of Art? This deceptively brief, easy to approach little 165-page gift is a powerful tool to add to your arsenal (to borrow Pressfield’s war metaphor) against the stealthiest, sliest and most pernicious enemy to your creative life: Resistance.
The Truth About Resistance
Resistance, in its many shapes, is the focus of Book One, the first of three sections of The War of Art. Pressfield lifts the veil, exposing the ways Resistance keeps us from the work we’re meant to do, including some you may never have thought about.
Fear? Procrastination? It’s pretty easy to spot those manifestations of Resistance. But how about support and healing? How about the choice of a mate? These – and many other surprises – can be sneaky forms of Resistance too.
And have you ever thought about Resistance and love? Has it ever occurred to you that the more Resistance you feel, the more important your “unmanifested art / project / enterprise” is to you? Which means, of course, that when you feel the most Resistance, that’s precisely when you must fight the hardest against it.
You must play for keeps.
Which brings me to Book Two.
Turning Pro
In Book Two, Pressfield offers his thinking and instructions on how best to combat Resistance: by “Turning Pro.”
“Pro” in this sense doesn’t have anything to do with producing income (though it certainly can include that). It means taking yourself and your dreams seriously.
It means dedicating your life to your art / your project / your enterprise.
It means accepting that it is hard and painful to keep at it… and doing it anyway.
“The artist must be like [a] Marine,” says Pressfield:
He has to know how to be miserable. He has to take pride in being more miserable than any other soldier or swabbie or jet jockey. Because this is war, baby. And war is hell.
Turning Pro means showing up, no matter what, just like you do to collect your paycheck at your 9-5.
It means a lot of other stuff, too, which Book Two beautifully enumerates.
Pressman has made Turning Pro into an art in and of itself. He shares stories from his own life, when Resistance had him broken and beaten down, and in glimmering vignettes describes how a shift in consciousness – from “amateur” to “pro” – was what finally turned things around.
A guy who goes from broken, can’t-get-his-work-done-to-save-his-life, to international best-selling author is someone worth paying attention to.
The Higher Realm
If the militaristic message of Book Two sounds daunting, deep breath – we’re now on to Book Three, where Pressman looks at Inspiration, the Muses, the Authentic Self, and the allies and angels that keep us pressing on against Resistance.
When we sit down each day and do our work, power concentrates around us. The Muse takes note of our dedication. She approves. We have earned favor in her sight. When we sit down and work, we become like a magnetized rod that attracts iron filings. Ideas come. Insights accrete.
Whether you believe in angels or read Book Three as pure metaphor, I can’t see how any reader could not be moved by it.
Do your work, is the essence of Pressman’s message, because you must. The last page sums it up eloquently:
If you were meant to cure cancer or write a symphony or crack cold fusion and you don’t do it, you not only hurt yourself, even destroy yourself. You hurt your children. You hurt me. You hurt the planet….
Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention on the part of the actor. It’s a gift to the world and every being in it. Don’t cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you’ve got.
Amen.
If you’re ready to take your own creative life more seriously, and would like to use the power of a small group of like-minded, creative comrades-in-arms to push yourself forward, I’ve got one spot left in my upcoming daytime Creative Ignition Circle, which starts this Wednesday. What could YOU accomplish toward your big, creative dreams in the next two months, if you had other people to brainstorm, encourage, and (perhaps most importantly) hold your feet to the fire? I invite and challenge you to take that next step to bust past Resistance and find out. Click here for more information and to join.
Don’t Knock 15 Minutes a Day (or How to Rock Your Creativity YOUR Way)
I love what’s happening over at Alison Gresik’s blog. She’s upping her game with a beautifully-redesigned site, focusing her content and her message, and even has a telethon going on right now, in which, instead of money, readers are asked to pledge their time – the amount of time they’ll spend on their art.
It’s a brilliant idea. (And honestly, I wish I’d thought of it!)
“15 minutes a day isn’t enough anymore,” blares the headline of the post announcing the telethon, “You want Hours For Art.”
It’s a bold challenge to creatives to up their own game, and I love it!
And yet.
I’d like to take a moment to quietly defend the concept of 15 Minutes a Day.
First, let me be clear that I am in no way dissing what Alison is doing, which I think is awesome. I am 100% behind getting more artists to put their art at the center of their lives. I’m all about Creative Abundance, after all, and putting your art at the center is what Creative Abundance is all about!
My goal is to see you, me, and ALL creatives really rockin’ our creativity. Hard. Right at the center. Thriving in every possible way from and with our art. ALL DAY doing my creative things is the kind of vision I’m talkin’ about. All day, every day.
But.
What about the sweet and wonderful peeps for whom hours for art feels not just out of reach, but impossible?
Are your goals SMART?
In order to be effective, goals need to be SMART(ER). Here’s a chart from Wikipedia on what that handy acronym stands for, including more commonly accepted terms (“Major Term”) and additional (and sometimes duplicative) “Minor Terms”:
Letter……. | Major Term……. | Minor Terms |
---|---|---|
S =
| Specific
| Significant, Stretching, Simple
|
M =
| Measurable
| Meaningful, Motivational, Manageable
|
A =
| Attainable
| Appropriate, Achievable, Agreed, Assignable, Actionable, Action-oriented, Ambitious, Aligned, Aspirational
|
R =
| Relevant
| Realistic, Results/Results-focused/Results-oriented, Resourced, Rewarding
|
T =
| Time-bound
| Time-oriented, Time framed, Timed, Time-based, Timeboxed, Timely, Time-Specific, Timetabled, Time limited, Trackable, Tangible
|
E =
| Evaluate
| Ethical, Excitable, Enjoyable, Engaging, Ecological
|
R =
| Reevaluate
| Rewarded, Reassess, Revisit, Recordable, Rewarding, Reaching
|
In a nutshell, when you set a goal, you want to make sure it’s specific, measurable, ATTAINABLE, relevant and time-bound. And to ensure success, you want to evaluate and re-evaluate your goal over time.
Let’s look at how this applies to committing time to your art/creativity. If you pledge an hour a day, say, before you are truly ready to live up to that commitment – if an hour a day isn’t truly attainable – you’re doomed to fail. And nothing feels suckier or contributes more to stuckness than that.
What’s SMART for me may not be SMART for you
So what about the sweet lovelies who are just plain stuck to begin with? Those who are unable to get themselves to lift their pen, or guitar, or knitting needles, or what-have-you, because they haven’t yet been able to unclog the cloggage in their way?
Gentle, loving treatment is required. Sleuthing to uncover the keys to unblocking, hand-holding, and ideally a partner who will help untangle the knots is what’s needed. Stuck creatives need a challenge that’s just the right level to push them… but not too much… so they can remember and reconnect with their creativity.
A delicate re-introduction is sometimes in order, to give a blocked creative the safety to play with her creativity, without the kind of pressure that might scare it back into hiding.
For the tender creative who is maybe just ready to shyly get re-acquainted with her creative self, 15 minutes a day might be just right.
After a routine, a regular practice, has been solidly established, then a larger commitment may indeed be the next step.
Or not.
The thing about systems (Alison calls them labyrinths, and constructs a really lovely metaphor around the term that I just love) is that in order to work, they must be your systems. One-size-fits-all is never the solution for a creative.
Although I believe a daily practice is foundational, and it’s certainly key for me, you may not be a daily kind of person. And that’s okay.
You may be a one-hour-and-45-minutes-once-a-week person (which, btw, is what 7 days of 15 minutes a day adds up to). And if that works for you, and you’re able to maintain your practice and feel nourished by it and connected to your creativity – great! Go you!
My dirty, little secret
Here’s the thing about my personal 15 Minutes a Day practice:
It’s a lie.
I’ve committed only to 15 minutes a day, but in fact, I spend more more time that that, more often than not.
The way I’m currently working playing in the Creative Sandbox – painting and calligraphing multiple layers on a large, stretched sheet of paper, which I later tear down into several smaller finished pieces – suits my “soft” schedule really well. I may work play for ten or fifteen minutes, putting down a layer, then let the paint or ink dry while I turn to writing, or go to yoga, or do some bookkeeping or data entry, or check email.
An hour later I may take a break from the computer and add another layer. And when that dries, yet another.
In actual fact my art is truly at the centre of my day – interspersed in the middle of everything I do – and yet I only require of myself 15 minutes.
It’s a way of tricking myself. Of taking the pressure off.
If I were to keep track of my weekly Creative Sandbox time, add it up, and commit to that amount of time every week, I guarantee it would put me into a panic. It might even backfire, as nothing chokes me up like the fear of failure.
What works for you?
Now, I’m not in any way telling you that this is how you should work. Not at all. I have a unique situation: working at home, making art that’s easy to do in the same room where I do my other work (ie, I don’t need a steel forge or potter’s wheel or trampoline to do my art). Working on my art in spurts throughout the day is a system I’ve stumbled upon that works quite well for me.
You, my dear, will have to discover or create the systems that work for you.
It may be that you’re ready to commit to great chunks of time, and that a pledge of hours for your art is exactly what you need right now to take you to the next level. To that I say, “Go you!”
But if that’s not where you are, if you need a softer entry or re-entry into this whole Creative Abundance thing, let me assure you with a loving voice that it’s okay. Your way is okay.
Whatever gets you to actually do your art is brilliant and good and right.
So don’t ever sign up for anything that makes you feel pressured.
Pushed, yes, like having hands on your back pushing you up a steep hill kind of pushed.
Encouraged, yes.
Believed in, yes.
And a little nervousness is normal, and not necessarily a bad thing at all. What we’re aiming for here is to get you out of your comfort zone a bit – enough to stretch and grow and build a home for your creativity that’s really awesome – but without even a molecule of the kind of anxiety that would push you in the other direction.
Make sense?
You can do this. You must do this – the Universe is waiting. You don’t have to do it in a way that doesn’t fit, nor should you. And if you’d like a partner to help get you down this path, I’d love to help.
Whether you pledge 15 minutes a day or 15 hours a week, I’m cheering you on all the way.
—
What’s your system? Does it work better for you to officially commit to a smaller goal – even a tiny one – and then over-perform? Or do you rock it out most when you challenge yourself with a really big commitment? Share your reactions in the comments below.
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