A List of Things I Tried to Be
Last week I mentioned The Artist’s Way, a book I finally made it all the way through at the end of 2019, after at least 5 aborted attempts over the years.
The whole point of doing The Artist’s Way is to remove creative blocks, and Cameron begins the first of the twelve weeks by challenging everything you think you know about being an artist. Mostly, who is allowed to be an artist? If you believe it’s most assuredly not you, the roots of this probably go all the way back to your childhood, and the encouragement (or lack of) from parents and other adults in your baby artist life.
I was the kid reading in the back of the bus on the way to school every day, filling spiral notebooks with middle school drama, and using my Christmas money to (mail!) order writing books from an indie publisher (shout out to Free Spirit Publishing, which used to publish a bunch of creative writing books aimed at teens, like Totally Private and Personal, written by a then-teenage girl who has gone on to run a small press). I entered (and won) a handful of PTA Reflections contests, although I never made it past the district level. Once I even submitted a short story to my favorite tween magazine, and got a call from an editor, who was trying to figure out if I was a kid or an adult. (Now I just think it’s kind of amazing I got a call from a magazine editor when I was 12.) She said they’d keep it on file for a reader-submitted issue, but I didn’t make the cut.
Support from my parents fell into a gray area: they didn’t actively encourage me, but they didn’t discourage me, either. They’re spared from being inducted into my Monster Hall of Fame (more on that next week), but I’m not sure that’s anything to feel super relieved about. Sometimes I felt like wanting to be a writer wasn’t anything special, because no one was talking to me about it. Naturally, the one person who encouraged my writing was a teacher I didn’t even particularly care for. My 11th grade history teacher handed back a paper I’d written and told me, “You have a way with words… when you take your time.” Point taken, and thank you, Mr. Dinaburg.
I started college without any clear career goals (not unlike most college freshmen!). I studied mass communication at a state university, and while I enjoyed my classes, I didn’t feel particularly lit up by any of it. By the time I got to my junior year, I couldn’t see myself becoming a newspaper reporter, which was the only job I felt sorta qualified to apply for. So I jumped ship and went for a master’s degree in library science. Working in a library was okay, but I really wanted the flexibility to work from home once I had kids, so I decided to pursue a career in book indexing. I spent a few years and a few thousand dollars before realizing maybe I didn’t want to do that after all. You can see where this is going.
As Cameron writes, “Shadow artists often choose shadow careers— those close to the desired art, even parallel to it, but not the art itself.” Perhaps that’s why everything I tried felt not quite right? There was a period of time in my mid-twenties when I was barely even journaling, let alone allowing myself to indulge in creative writing. I’m not sure what I was doing back then (it’s probably no coincidence that I don’t have many clear memories from that time of my life!), but I for sure wasn’t in touch with my artist-self.
Doing The Artist’s Way has been a permission slip for taking myself seriously. While it sure would have been nice, it ultimately doesn’t matter that I wasn’t supported by parental figures as a baby artist. My artist is perennially a child, and I can fill the role of support and nurturing for myself. So I continue to show up, to the blank page, to the artist dates, to every opportunity to keep growing.
Right now, work looks like working on The Workbooks (this newsletter + Instagram), and despite how many iterations of the word “work” are in this sentence, it doesn’t feel like work. I love that I can indulge in my fascination with the creative process, with the insides of notebooks + sketchbooks (mine and other people’s!). I’m figuring out how I can tell the stories that I want to tell, and how I can encourage other people to tell theirs.
Of course, starting something new requires a leap of faith. “Is anyone going to read this? Does anyone care?” is always in the back of my mind. And naturally, I beat myself up all the time about wasted opportunities— why didn’t I start a blog back when blogging was in its nascency? Why didn’t I pay attention to that tiny little voice that said “but what about creative writing?” Why haven’t I been submitting to lit mags all along, slowly building a portfolio of published work? Think about where I’d be now if I had!
This lack of self-compassion is the mark of a shadow artist: “As a rule of thumb, shadow artists judge themselves harshly, beating themselves for years over the fact that they have not acted on their dreams,” Cameron writes. I felt a little too seen when I read that; I scrawled “yep.” in the margin. In my kinder moments to myself, I remember that it’s good I’ve started when I did.
If you recognize yourself as a shadow artist, what’s next? Simple: good old fashioned play, however awkward that might feel in the beginning. Cameron warns that “Creativity is play, but for shadow artists, learning to allow themselves to play is hard work.” So how can we ease our timid artist-selves into this hard work? We can start by getting really clear on what play actually is. In his TED Talk (which I recommend watching), play expert Stuart Brown says that “If its purpose is more important than the act of doing it, it's probably not play.” What can you do this week that has no purpose other than your own enjoyment? If you’re stuck on what to do, I have five really easy ideas for you at the end of this newsletter.
Here’s to allowing play back into our lives, and ditching the shadow artist.
5 (incredibly easy! super simple!) ways to be playful this week:
Rip through old magazines and make a collage of things you like, just because. Hang it up somewhere you can see it.
Get a can of Play-doh or make some homemade (maybe add essential oils if you’re feeling fancy!). Do you remember what you did with Play-doh as a kid? I loved rolling out long snakes, seeing how long I could get them before the dough got so thin it broke.
Make a playlist of your favorite music from the year you were fourteen. If you want to go back to 1998 for a few minutes, here’s mine. Clearly I did not have very specific musical taste. I wish I could remember more of what I listened to!
Take a trip to the art supply store (the Crayola aisle of Target also works) and grab something you haven’t used in awhile. Finger paint, pom-poms, air dry clay, whatever calls to you. Make something with it.
Add a vinyl sticker to something you use every day— your coffee mug, your laptop, your car.
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