What if it's easier than I think?

Lately, I've been in a solid mental space, creatively speaking. I work every day on a novel that I expect to have a completed draft of by September, I've just shared part two in a series of short films starring Cathy Dresden, I recently completed the animation voice-over demo I've been promising myself to complete for the past six year, and I meet regularly on Zoom to check in with and support other gay writers. In addition to that I meet with a friend weekly "write together" (which in this moment means writing at the same time at our respective desks) and I've been motivating myself with weekly podcasts with tips for writing and making things, as well as reading other works aimed at people wanting to improve their creative productivity and time management. In short, I feel pretty good. And yet, I know that what I've done and am doing now is completely manageable, doesn't take that much work to maintain, and that there is more I can and should be doing. 

For one? I want to return to this blog. I plan to secure representation. I'm excited to make more Cathy videos with less turn around time (there was three months between the first and second episodes), and I want to explore a new creative project a friend of mine recently proposed, regarding a subject very close to my heart, and see if it has promise. In short, I want to keep finding ways to say "yes". Now please understand, much of what I've written so far has had me cringing internally. It feels corny, hokey, "self-helpy", and it feels like bragging. Trust me that any negative thing you might have thought so far (other people are doing a lot more than him, yes he's making things but who is looking at them...) I say those things to myself too. And they don't help me. 

Producing creative work has often felt like a struggle for me. It can feel like giving a pint of blood through your fingertip, and I fret and worry over every detail until what I've done is complete. And even once it's complete, I have to research the best way to share it, and find ways to "build an audience" and it all feels so frightening. But doing it badly helps me get a little better the next time I try it, giving me more confidence to squash the fear long enough to do the things I need to get to the next step. And more and more I find myself asking "What if I'm better than the things I say to myself in my most fearful moments?" Well then all that worry is a waste. And the process of sharing will get easier the more I practice it, and the more I make. And in that way, little sep by little step, I can change my belief and my reality. 

Because there was a time when we had much more confidence. And we wrote stories, made puppet shows, choreographed dances because we hadn't yet bought the illusion that we have to earn the right to do this. The truth is we already have the right. We just have to do it. And it may mean doing it badly for a seemingly interminable amount of time, but we will get better if we continue to work at it. Does that mean that the result of my project or work of art will be the specific future I desperately want it to have? It doesn't not. But I truly believe these artistic impulses we have are born in us because they are supposed to be followed. And when they are followed they will lead to new experiences and discoveries, and they will make you feel better simply by keeping promises you made to yourself. The promise to finish something you dreamed of doing. And here are two more things I believe: 1. The art you make, if you share it, will find the eyes and ears and mouths and fingers it is supposed to. And you may never know how many people that is. You may never see it happen. But it will happen.  2. The finishing of a project does not equal the end of the line for that project. Sometimes we write the first thing so that we can get to the next thing, growing and learning so that we can create the seventh thing. 

So, in the interest of following through on these thoughts and feelings I'm having, I'm going to be more thoughtful about how I spend my time, I'm going to work on being kind to myself, I'm going to experiment with ways to be more productive, and to understand myself. And I'll share how it is going, talk about some of my processes and things that have worked for me, and if you'd like to join me, I'd love to have you along for the journey, and to hear how things are going for you. 

Recommended: Make Art Make Money

Art fuels more art. The simple act of getting my ass down to the seat tends to do more for my creativity than nearly anything.  And yet, sometimes just moving those few feet to the desk or the coffee shop can seem easier to put off for just "a few minutes".  So I always try to supplement my off times, my idle moments, with books about art, or artists, and ways to cope with the challenges of creativity.  

The book I am loving right now is Make Art Make Money: Lessons From Jim Henson on Fueling Your Creative Career by Elizabeth Hyde Stevens.  

It explores the successful ways that Jim Henson was able marry art and commerce, much of which involved the "art as gift" philosophy.  The basic idea behind it is that art, by its very nature is a gift.  And yet, those creating that gift need to be able to support themselves in order to continue creating.  It's a basic truth, that for the creator, most of the financial gains from that art go right back into making more. And more often than not, the one who creates will put more effort, more time, and more money into it than is "wise" in a business sense of the word. Henson both epitomizes this, and made peace with this. He was able to keep the message of his work pure even though he was commodifying and selling likenesses of his characters.  The work never became about making money. The money was always to make more and better art.  Without The Muppet Show you could never have had The Muppet Movie, without which you could never have had The Dark Crystal, without which you could never have had The Story Teller, and so on.  This is true not just on a financial level, one funding the next, but on a creative level.  The artistic achievements and new understandings reached in one project made the next one possible.

One of the passages that I found particularly inspiring discusses Henson's 1972 television special The Muppet Musicians of Bremen, in which four mistreated animals escape their miserable masters to seek a new life. Hyde Stevens uses this work to parallel the creative struggles Henson was going through.

     Chased from his home, Leroy [the donkey] finds himself alone in the world, pulling junk that                

     "ain't worth nothin". He doesn't seem very lucky at all. But he can be. 

     Enter the frog. 

     Leroy laments his condition to Kermit, who happens to be sitting on a fence. "I'm on the road

     to nowhere," he says. "I gave ol' Mordecai eighteen years of hard work, and what do I have to 

     show for it?"

     Kermit points at the wagon.

     "It's mighty hard pullin'." The wagon, he thinks, is nothing but a burden.

     Kermit tells him he also has a tuba.

     "You mean this big kinda twisty funnel thing? I don't even know what it's fer!"

Kermit shows the donkey how to change his perception of his lot in life, that the things he views as a burden can actually be a salvation. The same can be said for every artist. We spend out lives trying to hide our injuries and imperfections and show only what we have decided is worthy. Doing this is like "a dancer, dancing with one hand behind her back" as my former acting teacher used to say.  Sharing the wounds artfully, allows intimacy between artist and viewer, and opens up a whole new pathway to explore, one that's likely to be very fertile territory because it is at the heart of what we are most passionate about.

Hyde Stevens continues:

     Henson's shoestring budget resulted in Kermit being fashioned out of the fabric from his

     mother's old coat, and that intern spawned the look of a thousand Muppets. His work in

     commercials [something Henson had very ambivalent feelings about] led both to a healthy

     workshop budget and eventually to Sesame Street, who's producers were trying to use the power    

     of commercials to teach. It couldn't be predicted from the outset, but each part led to the next part,  

     and eventually it added up to staggering success when Henson started to see the shape it might

     take.

     Henson may not have chosen his career up until 1958, but he was able to turn burdens into

     strengths. "Take what you got and fly with it," Henson said. Most of us simple don't know what 

     we've got.

Make Art Make Money: Lessons From Jim Henson on Fueling Your Creative Career began as a series of essays published in , and these were later expanded to become a full exploration of Henson's work, and lessons from that way of working that we can use today.  It's available from Amazon.com, and is a steal at $9.19

         

     

                        

"Thoughts on A Creative Career"

Found this video really thought provoking, and think it pertains to anyone who has that innate desire to write, paint, act, or create and not just the young ones.