In my last post, I talked about the exciting, inspiring, rejuvenating weekend I spent at a creativity coaching weekend led by Eric Maisel. During that time, I dug into my real reasons for writing, and in a certain way, I fell in love with writing again. Honestly, it was a little like meeting an exciting new love interest just when you've resigned yourself to being single for all of eternity.
Well. I'm back home again, and my newly-recharged ambitions and urges to write regularly and meaningfully have been tempered somewhat by the daily realities of a work life and the demands of parenting a 7-year-old. Which is to say, that plan for waking up early every day and spending at least that first hour focused on my writing-in-progress? I'm following it, but it's beginning to give me dark circles. And make me a little grumpier at night. And kick up questions about how important this particular writing project is really, when held up against the alternative of, say, getting more sleep? Perhaps aimlessly surfing the Net while I suck down my coffee in the morning? In other words, if last weekend my writing life was a thrilling new affair, this week, it's becoming the real live person with quirks and foibles that I continue to spend time with.
The question, in art as in with those sparkling new relationships, is, will I make a commitment? Will I stick with this project because I said I would, because I know what it means to me, even if I let myself lose sight of that amidst the more challenging moments? Am I ready to be an arts grownup, knowing that a certain percentage of projects are mediocre at best, knowing that this one may not live up to the hopes I've bestowed on it?
Eric Maisel advised us repeatedly: "When it doubt, err on the side of completion." Completion can be tough, especially when life's curveballs and challenges happen, especially when we lose faith in our projects and ourselves. But it matters for many reasons, not the least of which is that it forces us get clear about what matters to us and why, what we're really willing to give ourselves to, even when it isn't easy. A lot of things in life are like that.
I recently took on some artists to coach, hoping to pass along some of the support and accountability that was given to me recently on the other side of the coaching exchange. But in truth, there is a huge part of doing this that's for me, and I don't mean just the obvious part of trying on this new role, this new (to me) way of helping. It's also my way of keeping myself honest. I know from my work as a therapist that it was start to really bother me if I am not doing what I am advising my artists to do.
Having the novelty and thrill of a brand-new experience or project is seductive, no question. New-ness is exciting. Flitting from project to project because you're scared to see a project through, though? Not so much.
So, here's thanking Eric Maisel and my artist cohorts for inspiring me, and here's thanking the people who have volunteered to coach with me over the next two months, for deepening my experience and keeping me honest. As for that brand new and shiny thing that has caught your attention recently? Maybe it's a fun thing of the moment. But. Maybe it will be something more substantial that loses its shimmer after a minute, an hour, a day. But still it matters. Really matters. And you'll have to decide whether you're ready and willing to give your heart to it, without knowing the ending ahead of time.
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