When I was a little kid, probably only five or six as I was just beginning to be ready to sleep over at a friend’s house (and for sure there were some midnight calls home to my parents to come get me), the prospect of a sleepover with my best friend and next door neighbor Bethany was pretty much the most exciting thing I could think of. Whenever Beth or I would come up with the plan to have another sleepover, the very idea of it was so thrilling it was almost too painfully awesome to contemplate (even though we spent almost every day together and lived about 40 yards away from each other).
But sometimes our parents said no, for reasons incomprehensible to our kindergarten minds. Then, the disappointment was too devastating to bear (even though we spent almost every day together etc). So I came up with a plan: we would always just assume the answer was going to be no and start feeling sad about it before we even asked our parents. That way if they said yes, we’d be super happy, and if they said no, we’d feel pretty much the same. I felt that this plan was BRILLIANT. It’s etched so vividly in my mind as a stroke of utter genius that I can even remember exactly where I was standing when I revealed my amazing idea to Bethany – right on the border between our yards, near the tree that was shaped like a W.
As a Sleepover Disappointment Coping Strategy, it was pretty decent, but as an approach to life in general, I’ve got to tell you, it’s pretty lousy.
All too often in my life I have followed this protocol of protecting myself from disappointment, rejection, and failure by assuming things are not going to work out. I am probably in the running for an Olympic gold medal in Emotionally Dealing With Bad Things That Haven’t Even Happened Yet. Focus too much on what will go wrong, and eventually you don’t try so much. Don’t try so hard. Don’t dare.
What does all of this have to do with creativity? Well, it all comes down to fear. Fear of failure is something that lots of people deal with, probably all people at some point in life. I think fear of risk is something slightly different, and it’s even worse. Fear of failure means being afraid of the moment you crash to the ground. Fear of risk means being afraid to even leap. It’s a fear of being vulnerable at all. An addiction to safety. Unfortunately for safety junkies like me, being creative is ALL ABOUT being vulnerable. It’s taking something that you made and putting out into the world – it’s inherently risky. Giving form to your ideas is like exposing parts of your innermost self. Even if no one ever sees the things that you create, I feel that there is a risk in just bringing them into being.
Today is the last day of my 12 week course on “creative recovery” with The Artist’s Way, and in a bit of synchronicity it will be the last of my posts on creativity for the month of March (though I’m sure it’s a topic I will return to now and again). When I started the process of reading the book and writing the journal, I was skeptical of the idea that I was a blocked artist. I thought, I am an artist, I just happen to be TOO BUSY right now to create the things I want to create. Uh huh.
Much of The Artist’s Way for me was about admitting to myself that I really am afraid to make the things I want to make. It’s much safer for me to keep them inside and just keep telling myself I don’t have time for them, yet. Sure I have time to write a couple of blogs and moderate a few Facebook pages and do commission work as an illustrator and raise and homeschool two kids and start a co-op, but write a memoir? Nawwww. Draw a comic book? If only!
Though I did, through the exercises in the book, trace some of my personal insecurities back to comments that influential people have made to me along the way, ultimately I know that the buck stops with me. My fear can’t be placed at anyone else’s feet. I know that it scares me to be vulnerable and I’ve always been that way. But I am beginning to let myself set fear aside long enough to taste that excitement of doing the things I really want to do, as thrilling as letting myself anticipate a sleepover with my best friend when I was five.