Your creative process is not a problem
articulating discontent
We've been taught to pathologize so many of the experiences that make us dynamic, fallible, lovable, evolving humans. The same goes for the utter chaos that is creativity.
A common, shared experience in the creative process can so quickly become labeled as a scathing evaluation of one’s own worth.
Incoming is a list of parts of the creative process that cause distress and frustration. Some of what I’m sharing are sources of intense suffering (stay with me here).
What I’m getting at in this thought experiment is drawing a distinction between what is experienced—the very real frustration and suffering—and how the mind categorizes the experience, often in some form of feeling fundamentally lacking, broken, bad, or unlovable.
More often than not, the inclination of the mind seems to label uncomfortable experiences in the creative process as problematic, personal failings. It becomes: this clearly isn’t for me, I should finally get the picture and forget about it for good.
Writing this was a very catch-the-beat experience. It felt good to put into words. Before getting into it, let me just say this: Right after making this list I thought to myself, This is such an annoying way to format my thoughts and I’m going to annoy the person reading it, and maybe agitate them because I’m making assumptions about their creative process and thought process in an annoying list…
While I have no idea about the layered ways in which you experience your creative process in this season, what I’m sharing comes from being a full-time creative confidant. I’m in conversation with people in the deep waters of their creativity and hear some variation of these experiences everyday.
Back to that annoying little critical voice that tells me it’s better to file this away with everything else I’ve (temporarily) deemed unshareable: this habit of telling myself ‘don’t say that!’ is also not a problem, it’s a predictable part of my process and usually a sign that I’ve been consuming too much online. Onward, forward—and I’m starting with some biggies:
Not feeling creative ‘enough’ is not a problem, it’s part of the process. This goes for both feeling a gap in your sensibilities and skills, as well as having a fraught relationship to the expectations of Writer, Artist, Musician, etc. When people stop debating their creativity on a fundemental level, this is what I usually see: angst about not being creatively productive enough…
Not feeling creatively productive or prolific ‘enough’ is also not a problem, it’s part of the process. Creativity has a way of unraveling fixations on efficiency.
Being afraid of doing it ‘wrong’—as in saying the ‘wrong’ thing or being wrong in some vague way that could jeopardize belonging or appreciation—and wanting sooo badly to get it right is not a problem, it’s part of the process.
A favorite line by Martha Graham that touches on all of these:
No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching...
Realizing that you’ve been wrangling one sentence for twenty minutes isn’t a problem, it’s part of the process. Same applies to stripping a canvas, frogging in knitting, and pulling out a sunken cake from the oven.
TYPOS ARE NOT A PROBLEM, it’s part of the process that’s sometimes part of the outcome. I’m reserved in groups of people but I’d definitely scream this out on stage. Typos definitely aren’t a sign that you lack seriousness or rigor or smarts. Writers make typos. Typos are the beauty marks of writing.
(For what it’s worth: I write hours a day—both typing and by hand—and I misspell and skip words and switch letters around all the livelong day, especially with function words—the, that, in, it, are, as, etc. Between me and me, it is not a problem that my brain does this.)1
Feeling fear is not a problem, it’s part of the process.2
Resistance is not a problem, it’s part of the process.
Wanting to throw away your efforts in the middle of a project—when it loses its novelty and momentum and you’re bored out of your mind—isn’t a problem, it’s part of the process.
Getting excited about an idea and then working on it for hours and then forgetting about it and then finding it six months later isn’t a problem, it’s part of the process.
Working on something all night and returning to it in the morning only to have a what-the-fuck-is-this moment isn’t a problem, it’s part of the process.
Forgetting what works for you and trying to do something different that you ‘should’ do, or something that is shinier than what actually works for you, and then feeling frustrated that you keep dropping or forgetting what works isn’t a problem, it’s part of the process. This gives you the gift of returning to yourself and your practice in a fresh way.
Communing with loneliness in your creativity isn’t a problem, it’s part of the process.
Sitting down to work and ALL you can think about is a random thing your mind globs onto: grocery prices, falling down in math class in tenth grade, the Mandela Effect, ohhh is that what they meant when they said…, what was that one song by The Sundays?… isn’t a problem, it’s part of the process.
Feeling like you’ve never started before and can’t even grasp how to even think about starting isn’t a problem, it’s part of the process.
Wishing for the ideal conditions to work on your work isn’t a problem, it’s part of the process. Waiting for the ideal conditions is a problem because then you’re not making what is yours to make… and we need that.
Racking up rejection after rejection after rejection—whether it’s a rejection of acknowledgement, like crickets, or formal submission rejections—and feeling utterly hopeless isn’t a problem, it’s part of the process. I think of rejection in the creative field as a rite of passage into deeper humility and faith in your work.3
Learning how to do things in a way that works for you through iteration after iteration isn’t a problem, it’s an exquisite part of the process.4
What if the parts of the creative process that are so easy to feel aversion toward aren’t wrong?
What if willingness to meet these parts through using creative practices like resourcefulness, curiosity, and intuition is an essential part of the process?
What if this is the juiciest fruit of your harvest?
Maggy
Could you please share this with a friend who could be a little less harsh on themselves and more trusting of their process?
Can’t hit publish without mentioning this:
What is a problem is the decline of arts education in schools.
Being told that creative longings are frivolous or indulgent.
Addictive technology that drowns out the creative impulse.
Creative pursuits being measured only by their market value.
Not being able to afford singing, dance, drawing, or music lessons because of not being paid a living wage.
And a culture where loneliness and disconnection have become the status quo—where it feels normal to not have friends in your life who celebrate and get you and your creative vastness.5
Unshaming and unshoulding the creative process is literally the work I do with people in creative mentorship if you want in-depth support in your process.
Please don’t correct people’s typos if 1) they didn’t ask 2) you don’t know them personally 3) you’re not financially supporting them. Rude messages about typos, especially an assertion of intellect, is a weak flex.
I feel like this one needs a footnote because this world is rife with engineered instances of terror, paranoia, panic, and unease. Lack of safety is a problem and it’s a problem that being unsafe is a widespread experience when it doesn’t have to be that way. Fear itself—as a primal experience—isn’t a problem and feeling fear in the context of creativity—as in listening to it like a friend—is necessary.
Thinking here of how Van Gogh traded paintings and had some work commissioned by relatives, but only sold ONE painting in his life after exhibiting it. This is outrageously bleak, but my point: rejection is part of the process. Also thinking of E.E. Cummings’ No Thanks poem and Liz Gilbert’s line: “There are people who haven’t even been born yet who are gonna reject me someday—that’s how long I plan to stick around.”
This is what we do in Pivoting Toward Wholeness!!
We get to choose to be this for ourselves and others.
Love this so much. Thank you, Maggy.