There isn’t one…
“There are no shortcuts to the creative process…the very impatience that drives you to desire shortcuts makes you unsuited for mastery.”
—Robert Greene, The Daily Laws p. 84
Do the work. Trust the process. It will be tough to master anything.
But it’s so worth it.
We kill most of our great, wonderful, creative ideas before they’re ever born.
We write them off, dismiss them out of hand, smother them…
But we can’t know if our ideas are good—if they’ll work or cause the change we seek to make in the world—until we publish them.
Only by letting our ideas engage with the market, the world, or our audience can we know if it’s good.
If you judge every idea before you try it out, you’ll never be creative.
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You have a problem with perfection.
You don’t have writer’s block or artist’s block; you’re worried what you create isn’t very good.
But once you stop worrying about whether something is good or bad, you can get to the business of creating.
To be a professional is to show up and do your work regardless of how you feel. To be a professional artist, then, is to create works of art every day no matter what.
If you’re trying to make a living doing something artistic or creative, you’re a professional. Or at least, you should act like one.
Even if you don’t feel that you have any good ideas. Even if you’re “just an artist.”
An amateur artist only creates when he feels like it, or when the muse speaks to him. Or, God forbid, after getting inebriated so he can “loosen up” and go with the flow.
Remember Field of Dreams? Being an artist is a lot like Kevin Costner building that baseball field.
You don’t wait for the muse to show up before you start creating. If you start creating, the Muse shows up like a curious child. She asks “Ooooo! What’s that? Can I help? Can I do that with you?”
Waiting for a child to do something you want her to do doesn’t work. But if you just start doing it, she’ll immediately perk up and join you because she wants to be a part of your world. The mythical “Muse” acts the same way.
Some days you might have incredible days full of flow and creative ideas, but I’ve found those to be few and far between. Creation comes before inspiration almost every day. It’s why I show up to my morning pages each day after I wake.
I don’t write them because I feel inspired: I write them to BECOME inspired. That’s what a professional artist does–indeed, that’s what any professional does.
A lawyer doesn’t wait to become inspired before writing a brief or rehearsing an opening statement. She’s a professional and shows up because that’s her job.
A surgeon doesn’t wait for the muse to speak to her before operating on a patient. She trains for years so each and every time a patient is wheeled into the operating room, she’s ready to perform.
What if you approached your art the same way? As your job. What if you showed up every day ready to create whether or not you’re in the mood?
Do the work. Go make the Muse curious today.
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There is a war going on, a content war—one of which we are all a part. If you are on social media or have a smartphone, you now have a voice.
We have two choices:
We can sit on the sides and watch passively, soaking up everyone else’s content and letting it sway us one way or another.
Or we can choose to create, contribute, and add our voice to the mix and try to be heard. To change someone for the better. To make a difference however small.
It’s true you may never be noticed. You might be drowned out by all the other voices. But doing the work is still worth it—in fact, it’s all that matters.
If we do not speak up, there is no chance that we can improve anything. And those that seek to make things worse will overtake those who want to make things better.
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What does an artist do? What makes her an artist? It’s simple: she pays attention.
I think I’ve been overwhelming myself with ideas, people, information, podcasts, audiobooks— too many different inputs to count. If we want to be creative, we have to shut out the noise, turn off the devices, and start paying attention to the world around us.
Paying attention might be something as simple as going for a walk outside. Head to the park, and be fully present in the moment.
Paying attention means smiling at the people that walk past you and watching their entire demeanor change. They walk a little taller; they smile back; they pick up their pace. A smile generates energy.
Pay attention when you walk past two women speaking to each other in Spanish. What happens when you say in their native tongue, “Hello! How are you?” They chuckle, both pleased with your willingness to try and humored by your pained accent.
Paying attention is noticing the difference in sound a few dozen yards can make. One side of a park is dead quiet, while the other—less than a football field’s length away and located close to a busy road—is roaring with the cacophony of motorcycles and sports cars.
When you pay attention over a few weeks’ time, you notice the subtle change in attire worn by those walking around you as social and health issues become more prevalent.
Perhaps you’ll notice two small children, obviously strangers and of wildly different cultures, run towards each other on the playground to touch hands, embrace, and play together as if they weren’t the least bit different. Afterwards, you might realize that it’s all invented, the differences we’ve created that cause such terrible strife in our world.
If you listen closely, you’ll notice the gurgling, deep-throated rumbling of a large vehicle puttering past behind you. You’ll hear the sounds of leaves underfoot and voices across the fence.
So this is what it’s like to pay attention. This is what we miss with our headphones in and our phones out, heads down and eyes fixed, always distracted and never present.
We miss the face of a Star Wars alien created by a fortuitous arrangement of knots on a pine tree.
We miss the sheer exuberance of a child as she first lays eyes on the playground and sprints past. We miss her zigging and zagging and the father’s apology for her child’s excitement. Why does Dad feels guilty? Why should he apologize for his child doing exactly what a child should do?
This is what we miss when we fail to pay attention.
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Why do we worry about running out of ideas?
Our minds are idea-making machines; we couldn’t stop them from ideation if we tried.
So why aren’t we creating something new and publishing it every day? Why do we fail to write a blog post? Or take a photo and post it?
We do not suffer from a lack of ideas: we worry the ideas we do have aren’t good enough to show anyone else.
Here’s the secret: they probably aren’t. Most of the ideas you think up aren’t great. They might not change the lives of thousands of people.
But there’s a chance one might change one person. And that small chance is reason enough to put your ideas out into the world.
Artists tend to have little faith in themselves or their work. They prejudge, rewrite, and scrap work without ever letting the work just “be.”
We don’t feel it’s good enough, so we don’t hit “Publish” or “Post”. We fail to contact that company or that prospective client with a work proposal because we don’t feel we are good enough to get the job.
I’ll let you in on a little secret:
Your work isn’t good enough.
It isn’t good enough by your own definition of “good enough to ship,” which in all likelihood is actually the definition of “perfect.” It’s not good enough for your impossibly high standards.
That doesn’t mean it isn’t good. It might even be great.
If your definition of “good enough” is actually “perfect,” you will fail. Nothing you ever make will be perfect. Nothing will ever be “finished” with that mindset.
Ship your work anyway.
“Art is never finished, only abandoned.”
–Leonardo da Vinci
It is when we decide to abandon our work that it’s good enough to ship. Some work will be better than others; some days you will struggle.
But you are an artist, and artists create.
You will never feel that what you produce is good enough. It’s called “The Resistance”. Your amygdala – the “fight or flight” part of your brain – is telling you to run and hide to avoid being criticized or judged.
It is wrong. Don’t listen to it. Ship your work anyway. Don’t procrastinate because you don’t think it’s perfect (it never will be).
Don’t let the definition of “perfection” become your definition of “good enough.” That way leads only to frustration and regret.
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To all my wonderful readers:
I apologize for my long absence from the blog. I’ve been on something of a publishing sabbatical for the last couple of months. During that time, I have done a deep dive into my creative self; I’ve been working to heal old wounds, develop my self-awareness, and reconnect with God, artistry, and the creative energy with which we have all been blessed. In short: I’ve put myself through a process of creative recovery as the wonderful Julia Cameron calls it.
This process has brought me back to the blog and what I hope to do with it. For the longest time, it has been my writings on what I’ve learned at work, in my reading, and by listening to great teachers. I’ve decided that I want a different focus: I want this blog to be a place for Creatives to come when they need inspiration, help, or collaboration; guidance on how to make a life with their art; and how to rekindle their creativity as I have so diligently worked to do myself.
As such, you will notice different content posted on here going forward. Some days, there may be photographs; other days might have long-form essays on specific topics. You will see more music posted here, perhaps even some poetry and stories. I will continue to publish educational articles as well: information to help writers, artists, musicians, and anyone else who considers himself or herself a Creative, regardless of the field or medium.
I will also be working to better organize this blog, so that different types of work can more easily be found – essays will have an essay section; music will have a music section, etc.
I want this to become a collaborative community, one where artists can see others’ work, contribute their own, and feel supported in the process. As such, I would like to feature work you wish to share with others here on this blog using my platform (with all credit going to you, of course). It might be a different person each week; it might be the same few people each week. It depends on who is willing to show up, share, and contribute to the community.
This will be a place for art, a place for thinking, a place for creativity, collaboration, and connection with others. It will be a place for love, generosity, spirituality, and goodness.
I will continue to encourage, enlighten, and educate each day for as long as I am able. I hope you will continue to follow me on this journey and contribute along the way.
Sincerely,
Nathan
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“All intellectual improvement arises from leisure.”
–Samuel Johnson
You’ve experienced it before: you’re scrubbing yourself in the shower and a million-dollar idea pops into your head, but by the time you get out it’s gone.
You’re driving down the highway, and your mind starts to wander; pretty soon you’ve concocted in your mind an entire business plan that could make you extremely successful. But alas, you’re driving – you have no way to write it all down.
A bored, quiet mind is a creative mind. Samuel Johnson said it well: “all intellectual improvement arises from leisure.” True leisure is something most of us haven’t experienced in 10 years – before the dawn of the always-on, always-connected smartphone culture.
We don’t know what leisure is anymore; we don’t know how to be bored anymore. Our first instinct when boredom strikes is to pick up the phone and scroll our favorite social media feeds. It preoccupies our minds and rids us of our boredom, but it also shuts off our creativity.
True leisure is allowing yourself to be bored, engaging with your thoughts, letting the mind wander or buzz absently. It’s going for a long walk at the park with no music and no podcasts.
If you want those truly life-changing, million-dollar ideas to come naturally and often, get really and truly bored. Do something on autopilot that puts you into the same mental state as showering or mindless driving.
Give your mind a chance to wander and watch the improvements come.
Zig Ziglar relates a story in one of his talks about a man traveling through Native American tribes early in the 20th Century. What the man discovered was not a single person he encountered in those tribes stuttered.
This phenomenon fascinated him, but he could never find a reason why. Finally, he asked one of the elders in the tribe why this was so. The elder informed the man there was no word in their native language for “stutter.”
No label, no problem.
In a fantastic article in The New Yorker, the author writes about the phenomenon known as “writer’s block.” What’s most interesting is this problem is not world-wide. The idea did not penetrate Europe until the 1800s, and even today, most Europeans don’t know what it is. It seems to be almost strictly an American issue.
No label, no problem. If you don’t have a way to identify something as a problem, it can’t be a problem.
We are all creative at something. We don’t get blocked: we get scared that what we create isn’t good enough. We feel there is some ethereal muse that must speak to us before we can make anything worthwhile.
That’s crap.
Seth Godin has, what I believe to be, the most profound podcast episode I’ve ever listened to called “No such thing (as writer’s block).” One of my favorite sayings in the episode is this: “plumbers don’t get plumber’s block.” No plumber says he’s feeling too overwhelmed or uncreative enough to fix a pipe. They just fix the pipe. Surgeons don’t wait until they hear the muse speak to them to operate – they practice their craft every day and perform when it’s time to perform.
Your art, whether it’s writing, music, painting, communicating, or leading people, is a craft – it’s a trade! Like blacksmithing, welding, or some other trade, it’s something that you learn, practice each day, and use to make something.
If you’re a writer – write! Every day. Write something. Set a timer for 30 minutes and write. If you can’t think of what to write, write “I can’t think of anything to write,” over and over again until a new thought pops into your head. When that thought pops into your head, write it down too. Don’t worry about it making sense, being fantastic, or winning a literary prize. Just write.
Insert your own art into the statement above and adapt it to your own situation.
You aren’t blocked – you’re scared. Don’t wait for the muse. Do your work.
It’s a trade like any other.
