Week 10: Recovering a Sense of Self-Protection
Jul. 28th, 2014 10:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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artistswayWeek Ten begins with a discussion of the "myriad ways" people use to block creativity. Her examples are food, alcohol, drugs, busyness, sad love drama, and sex. One potential blocking device that Cameron doesn't mention, but which is relevant to this workshop, is the buying impulse -- picking up a new journal in lieu of writing on the paper you already have -- or the getting-my-head-straight-first impulse, e.g. reading self-help books instead of working on existing projects. I can relate to that. If you have a blocking device or two of your own, you probably know what it is.
I'm not going to engage with Cameron's writing on food, since it clangs all my annoying body-image alarm bells and no one wants to be stuck at a party with me when those are going off. Her descriptions in general are more dismissive than I would like, especially coming off the chapter on compassion. She does take care to note that most of our blocking devices are good things in themselves -- it's only their blocking function that makes them creativity issues. Her solution is awareness -- keeping track of what we do and feel, and
I don't know how to feel about the addiction model used to talk about "workaholism," either, to be honest -- that is, I do, but I'm trying to be nice. Let's just say having a lot of work to do all the time can be a very tempting predicament -- it lets us feel put upon and competent and irreplaceable all at once, plus it allows us to avoid the scary responsibilities of being an artist without even having to feel lazy. Win-win!
Cameron invites us to assess how much we've allowed work to colonize our creative time. This may or may not be helpful or relevant, depending on your situation.
If work is chewing up all of your time, Cameron says, draw a bottom line -- find where you are mis-spending your time and draw a boundary "Bottom line, I will not ______________" (spend more than one hour on Fandom Secrets, work for more than two hours after dinner, work for more than two hours without taking a short writing break, go 24 hours without spending at least five minutes on my creative project. . .). Don't worry if it's a small promise -- make sure it's a promise you can keep.
Droughts happen. Doubt and sterility and a feeling of creative stiff-jointedness are part of the process. Cameron encourages us to keep going with the morning pages even when they feel completely pointless, "painful and foolish." It might help. It might not -- but if it's a good habit, it's better to try and keep it, rather than having to build it again. Cameron says that "time in the desert brings us clarity and charity." It's possible? More important to me is the assurance that droughts end.
There's a section on fame, competition, and the need for approval -- Cameron's theory is that we're all just hoping for fan letters from ourselves. She also suggests that when someone we know is successful, "That proves it can be done!" can be a more helpful reaction than, "Everyone else is succeeding instead of me." "The desire to be better than," Cameron says, "can choke off the desire to be." Don't be afraid to do things badly on the way to doing them well.
Morning pages! Artist's date! How's everyone doing, eh?
I'm not going to engage with Cameron's writing on food, since it clangs all my annoying body-image alarm bells and no one wants to be stuck at a party with me when those are going off. Her descriptions in general are more dismissive than I would like, especially coming off the chapter on compassion. She does take care to note that most of our blocking devices are good things in themselves -- it's only their blocking function that makes them creativity issues. Her solution is awareness -- keeping track of what we do and feel, and
I don't know how to feel about the addiction model used to talk about "workaholism," either, to be honest -- that is, I do, but I'm trying to be nice. Let's just say having a lot of work to do all the time can be a very tempting predicament -- it lets us feel put upon and competent and irreplaceable all at once, plus it allows us to avoid the scary responsibilities of being an artist without even having to feel lazy. Win-win!
Cameron invites us to assess how much we've allowed work to colonize our creative time. This may or may not be helpful or relevant, depending on your situation.
If work is chewing up all of your time, Cameron says, draw a bottom line -- find where you are mis-spending your time and draw a boundary "Bottom line, I will not ______________" (spend more than one hour on Fandom Secrets, work for more than two hours after dinner, work for more than two hours without taking a short writing break, go 24 hours without spending at least five minutes on my creative project. . .). Don't worry if it's a small promise -- make sure it's a promise you can keep.
Droughts happen. Doubt and sterility and a feeling of creative stiff-jointedness are part of the process. Cameron encourages us to keep going with the morning pages even when they feel completely pointless, "painful and foolish." It might help. It might not -- but if it's a good habit, it's better to try and keep it, rather than having to build it again. Cameron says that "time in the desert brings us clarity and charity." It's possible? More important to me is the assurance that droughts end.
There's a section on fame, competition, and the need for approval -- Cameron's theory is that we're all just hoping for fan letters from ourselves. She also suggests that when someone we know is successful, "That proves it can be done!" can be a more helpful reaction than, "Everyone else is succeeding instead of me." "The desire to be better than," Cameron says, "can choke off the desire to be." Don't be afraid to do things badly on the way to doing them well.
Morning pages! Artist's date! How's everyone doing, eh?
