More Creating, Less Hamster Wheel
Two things I read today really spoke to me. The first was this quote:
“I hope to spend time doing more creating and less time on the hamster wheel of maintaining visibility.”
Second was Austin Channing Brown, responding to Roxane Gay:
As a creative, it takes a great deal of honesty and introspection to tell yourself the truth about when you are saying yes from the well of your creative soul or when you are saying yes because of the pressure to maintain visibility. When your career is your creativity, there are some incredible freedoms and also some incredible chains. And one of the chains is fear- fear of becoming irrelevant. Fear of being forgotten. Fear of not being chosen. Fear that this opportunity is now or never. And on and on. But now I have a new question for myself as I entertain new opportunities (or dream them up myself!) 'Am I doing this out of an excitement to engage my creative passion or am I trying to maintain visibility (ie, I’m scared).
I relate so much to all of this. Trusting the times when I'm creating less in a visible way (be that in the form of sharing writing, offering new writing groups, or otherwise) continues to be an edge I'm leaning to walk with increasing balance.
The creative well Channing Brown refers to does not fill back up by itself. There's no spigot you can just leave on all night (though that would be cool and someone should invent one!). This means there will be times of relative quiet.
Here we are, nearly a year into the pandemic. I've settled back into the daily rhythm of working at home. Connecting deeply with clients and the folks in my writing groups, but with very little by way of cooking up new things at the pace and frequency I have in years past.
I was telling someone today about the Roar Sessions, a blog series I hosted in 2015-16. Some of you may remember. Every Monday morning, I shared a guest post by a woman writing about what "roaring" meant to her. It was glorious and inspiring. And then it reached its natural conclusion. I didn't plan to end it, but I did listen. I listened in the form of my own interest and energy and in the form of noticing what else was appearing on my horizon.
Nearly five years later, an idea for a new series has come to me. I don't know if or when I will launch it, but I'm nursing it like a baby bird who flew into my house without a mama.
Ending things can be scary. I've had many "now or never" moments, sure that if I "missed my moment," that would be that. Kaput. But a creative life is not one where we have a very precise window and if we miss it, that's that. Nope. I'm not buying it.
Ideas have their own unique gestation periods and life cycles. Some are fast and furious while others take years to come to fruition. Some never see the light of day but tinkering with them gives way to something that will.
Another new idea came to me last week during a walk. It is connected to a short piece I wrote the day after the inauguration that I haven't share publicly. I am investigating, percolating, putting out some feelers with potential collaborators, and enjoying the feeling of letting something sit on a low heat. What will become of it and how long will it take? That is a mystery in which I get to fully participate by taking my time.
If visibility is costing you your connection to your creative pulse or your sense of who you are and what's possible when you're not keeping up, step away.
Create your own sacred spaces away from here and know that your people will wait for you. If they don't, they weren't your people.
Capitalism loves a flash in the pan and will also convince you your 15 minutes of fame was a fluke. I don't want 15 minutes. I don't believe in flukes. Keep your flashy offering.
I want the real thing, the boring weeks when you're sure inspiration has left the building for good, the rests between notes and the long winter nights and the fucking endless-feeling pandemic making you wonder if you'll ever get to hug your parents and friends again. I want you to trust your instincts and ask your ideas to tell you more about them.
More creating, less hamster wheel? Amen.