Wrote in my morning pages today, which turned into this heartfelt entry on my LiveJournal. I had lunch and a brief thrift-shopping date with Jinny, then came home and spent the rest of my afternoon writing 15 emails of varying overdue-ness (most extreme: replies to emails 2 months old). And that was pretty much my day.
Back when I was in school or working part-time at the adult literacy center, I used to think longingly of a day when I might not have other commitments, when I might be free to make art and pursue my own projects full-time. Now, thanks to what Erik generously calls the Erik K Lee Artist Grant, I have that luxury every single day… and it’s still hard to find time (luckily, the grant is unconditional 😉 ). Life takes time; I guess it’s perfectly accurate to say life is time, since every minute that ticks by is what our lives are made of. I could spend that life doing nothing more than maintaining our home and garden, or trying to eat healthy and stay fit, or keeping in touch with friends and family, or immersing myself in books and films and concerts. I could dedicate it to raising children, to rescuing abandoned and mistreated animals, to giving back to the community. Instead, I have to find ways to meld all these things (well, not the kids yet) and still make time for my art. The truth is, what we give our time to depends on what we most value.
“Some writers say they cannot write in front of a window; many say they cannot function without almost perfect quiet. A writer with only two hours a day can write in the back of an open truck on the Interstate.”
– Gene Wolfe
In art as in relationships, we have to make time for what’s really important to us. It distresses me that although I write in my journals (private and online) for about two hours almost every day, outside of the journals I can’t seem to commit to a regular writing practice. What does that say about me as a writer? And what does it indicate that, even though I consider myself a more experienced and fluent writer than visual artist, I can commit much more easily to daily drawings? At VONA people said that the work that’s really important to us will haunt us until we get it done. My past couple of years of full-time creative work have taught me a lot about time management and setting boundaries, but prioritizing is still difficult. What does it mean if the only work that’s burning a fire in my brain is writing about myself?
At any rate, I did learn something lovely and valuable today. After tiring myself out at the computer writing those 15 emails, I went to the piano for the first time in months, uncovered the keys, found some Schubert impromptus and began to play. I’ve often lamented that piano is the only thing I’m really decently trained at, having played daily from age 4 and through some of college — lamented, because I was never good enough to be professional, and even if I were, tendinitis stopped me. But I found out today that this training serves my writing very well. While I picked my way awkwardly through Impromptu No. 1, my fingers were familiar enough with the motions that I could let my mind wander a bit… and it went to some interesting places, prompted by the music, the long-dormant sensation of performing and practicing the instrument, and the writing I’d been doing all day long. I don’t think my wrists will stand for this on a daily basis, but it’s good to know that playing the piano badly does something very untangling to my brain. It’s probably right-brain activity. It was like being awake and dreaming at the same time, being able to take strands of thought and weave them effortlessly into new connections. After I finished the impromptu my wrists were stiff and sore, but I went immediately to the computer and wrote down my thoughts from the session. Still not “real” writing on the pieces I’m supposed to be working on, but I’ve learned a wonderful new tool and plan to keep on using it!
well i’m certainly happy that you like writing “about yourself!” yours is the best-written, most articulate, thoughtful blog that i’ve ever read. i find myself getting spoiled by it because i start to think your writing quality is the norm… and then i’ll read another blog and find myself thinking “why is this person’s writing so choppy?” “she’s having a hard time getting her point across eloquently” etc.etc. 😛
Aww, thank you! Well, I’ve been blogging and writing since 2001, so I have more practice than an awful lot of bloggers out there, even some of the professional ones. I do work at trying to convey my meaning expressively and accurately, and I think blogging about myself has helped me with that a lot. 🙂 After all, the fundamental purpose of writing is to show someone else what’s in your head!
Reading your post, I couldn’t help but connect your thoughts to my daily struggle with untangling which tasks genuinely need to be completed to, say, meet my customers’ needs, pay my bills, etc., and which tasks I am telling myself “should” be done. It’s hard to explain, but I have so many things that I tell myself I should do, and I often get stressed about whether or not I complete those tasks without even really examining why they’re in the should category to begin with.
After reading the book Non-Violent Communication, I learned how often we tell ourselves “I have to do this” or “I should do this” when other options exist, such as, I could use language that more truly reflects why I’m doing something: “I choose to make an inventory list, because it will help me organize my business,” as opposed to, “I should make an inventory list.” Or, upon examination of that should statement, I might find that I don’t really need to make that inventory list after all, even though my mind is clinging to this idea that I “should.” Maybe that inventory list wouldn’t be a useful organizing tool, but I’m carrying around a conception that an inventory is something that “successful business owners” must have.
Moral of my rambling story, perhaps if there are things that you are constantly telling yourself you should be doing more of, maybe there’s a reason why you’re not prioritizing those things that goes beyond what you think you should be doing or how you want to see yourself, i.e., as a creative writer or whatever that desired self-image might be. I’m not saying forget about the creative writing, but if you’re naturally drawn to other types of writing, it might be interesting to examine why you think you “should” be spending so much time on creative writing.
Hope that’s actually helpful in some way and not just annoying psycho babble! 😉
Hi Mo! 🙂 Thank you for the lovely thoughts — you’ve gotten to the heart of all my “why journal?” questions from this post. Part of me thinks I’m so drawn to self-explorative writing because I’m still figuring myself out and this is of course a natural part of becoming a person and an artist; I’m still so young that there’s a lot I need to figure out before I can make any art that’s worth anyone’s time. But there’s another part of me that fears this is the only kind of writing I’ll ever be good at… and then I wonder whether that’s really something to be feared. I remember watching a Leonard Bernstein documentary once in which his children said he was never happy writing music like West Side Story because he only wanted to write something “serious.” I don’t think there’s anything wrong with creating popular art instead of “serious” art, but as I keep trying to do what I do, I understand more and more why Bernstein wasn’t satisfied with his accomplishments. I think these questions of why I write, what I want to write, and what I want to do with my writing (and my drawing, and crafting) are going to be central to my creative explorations in the next few months. And I’m so glad I went to VONA so that I started asking myself these questions.
As to your example of the inventory list, yes, I totally know what you mean. I’ve done that so many times in so many of my activities. When I started grad school I took notes on flashcards because I thought all serious grad students had to do that. They were useless! This is a big reason why I refuse to go to art school or try for a writing MFA program; it’s too easy for me to get sucked into what other people tell me I have to do in order to become such-and-such. I’d rather find my own way and piece these things together for myself.
The Leonard Bernstein quote makes me smile, simply because it’s nice to know that all artists struggle with thoughts like this. 😉 I know exactly what you mean about exploring your personhood and reflecting on how that shapes you as an artist. In recent years, I’ve started to approach that conundrum in a slightly different way after reading a great deal of Buddhist philosophy about the impermanence of self. This is probably way too much to go into in a comment (not that that has ever stopped us!), but it has been scary, exciting and liberating to begin to let go of definitions of who I am, at least in any concrete sense, and I know that’s changed how I feel about my art. I used to be very dedicated to a more Freudian, get to the bottom of every aspect of my personality and how it came about sort of mentality, but trying to experience each situation as a new opportunity to learn who I am in that moment, even if it’s completely different than who I was ten minutes ago, has been really interesting, and it feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
I realize I’m straying from your original thought quite a bit, but to bring it back, I guess this different viewpoint has urged me to see myself not as a progression of stages moving towards an ultimate goal, but each moment as being right where I’m supposed to be–as a person, as an artist, etc. This is not to say that I don’t have goals and that I’m not excited about the possibility of achieving them, but I try to remind myself (quite unsuccessfully at times) that I already have everything I will ever need in this moment, I’m already the artist and the person I “need” to be right now.
I have no idea if I’m actually making sense or if I’m all over the map with this, but when I’m struggling with this, I often go back to that Stephen Cope book, Yoga and the Quest for the True Self, and there’s something really comforting about the perspective that, even though it’s been drilled into my head my entire life that I must figure out “who I am,” that that goal is pretty illusory, and I can simply enjoy deepening my awareness in each moment without feeling as if I need to unravel the complete mystery of this supposed entity that is “I” in order to be a successful, healthy human being.
Whew. Sorry for the novel-length comment! 🙂
I never complain about novel-length comments! 😉 (Or posts!) I appreciate the “now is great” perspective you’re describing, and I am totally all for it myself — I’ve found it super-helpful in visual art. Yet somehow I feel like my writing is different. That is to say, I can still write from who I am now, but the more I uncover about myself, the better my writing gets. But maybe simultaneous self- and creative exploration are perfectly adequate. 🙂 I’m still very much figuring this out. It’s only been a week and a half since VONA ended!