Laden...
I know I am five years late to the party, but I finally got into Hamilton, and I understand what the ruckus was all about. I mean, this is a writer’s story, through and through. It spoke to me on many levels but especially regarding the inherent frustration of the creative journey: “Why does he write like he’s running out of time, write day and night like he’s running out of time?” I heard that line and completely understood. Why? Because he is. Because we all are, every day. We are wasting our legacy, squandering our limited breaths and words. We had better make them count. So, now is a good time to tell you that I feel frustrated. That there are a million things I haven’t done, and I want to do them all. Just you wait. 😉 And here’s the thing I’ve learned: if I want to do a lot, if my ambition starts to push me beyond my capacity, one of the best things I can do is stop. Slow down. Get really still. Not actually cease activity. But diminish the busyness so I can focus on the deep work. The true work that must be done. So I’m going to take a pause—for a month or so. This is the silence we all need to regroup, re-energize, and come back stronger. I used to think it was a good thing to be consistent. To show up every week. Every day. All the time. And create. To keep making stuff so people didn’t forget you. But I’ve learned something since I started publishing stuff on the internet fifteen years ago: consistency is boring. Sure we all have to prove we are worth paying attention to. We have to earn people’s trust. And consistency is one way to do it. But I sometimes wonder if we place too much emphasis on the relatively easy discipline to make an appearance. History teaches us that it’s not enough to be present. To show up on the scene and keep making things ad infinitum. There is, actually, something quite masterful about disappearing. About retiring a form of your work, maybe all of it, to give yourself a blank canvas on which to create again. Spiritually speaking, it can be quite cleansing to let go of what you were, making room for what you could be. Almost all great artists whose work I have followed at some point had to step back from their work and their lives to gain some broader perspective. They had to ask themselves the hard questions: Does what I’m doing actually matter? Do I even believe in it anymore? If I stopped, would anyone care? Such existential questions cannot be satisfied with cliches and well-meaning words of encouragement. You have to feel through the angst of each of them and sit with the discomfort they cause. You have to experience the potential reality of them to find the truth. Because maybe what you’re doing doesn’t matter. Maybe you don’t believe in it anymore and no one would care if you stopped. And maybe after all that, you decide to keep going because you want to. Because you choose to. That would be perfectly acceptable. Even admirable. But I refuse to continue a thing, even a good thing, simply for the sake of doing it. That kind of consistency is a fool’s errand, and I refuse to indulge such foolishness. I want the new. The interesting. The original. I imagine part of you—that sometimes scary part of you that rears its risk-taking head in the moments when you are less rational—does, too. Isn’t that why we got into the creating game in the first place? Not because we knew it was going to work, but precisely because we didn’t? We were unsure, full of self doubt, and excited to try. That’s what this work is all about: trying things. And failing. Yes, we have to try and fail; otherwise, are we even really trying or just betting on a fixed race? So I am retiring from the old, yes. I’m unsure of what new thing will emerge. And instead of pushing something out, I am just going to stop for a minute. I am going to slow down, get still, try to silence some of the busyness. We are on hiatus. This has been season 1 of Hey, Creator. Soon, Jeff
Sandy has made some updates to accommodate the needs of our growing Circle community for creatives. This is the best place to hang out online with fellow creators, and to get ahold of Jeff and the HC crew during our hiatus. 🎤 Show & Tell: Daily Posts is the place to share all your newest content. Think of it as our very own curated newsfeed—BY our members and FOR our members. When you have something to share, please post it in the Show & Tell group. It doesn't have to be just blog posts, either—anything you create is welcome. 👋🏼 Say Hello: Introductions: New to the community, or wanting to learn more about our team and our members? Say hello here! Introduce yourself and get to know your fellow creators. 🎉 Share Your Wins: This is the spot to brag—tell us what amazing things are happening for you, and let us help you celebrate.
For your reading and listening pleasure, here's the entire first season of Hey, Creator. Have you missed any episodes or editions? Here's what we covered over the last few months: The art of re-creation (newsletter + podcast) Creation vs. curation (newsletter + podcast) Categories, scattergories (newsletter + podcast) The discipline of disappearing (newsletter + podcast) The whole story (newsletter + podcast) The money thing (newsletter + podcast) Should art be practical? (newsletter + podcast) The creative question (newsletter + podcast) The true meaning of art (newsletter + podcast) Day at the museum (podcast) Why consistency is boring (podcast) Jeff’s retirement from teaching online courses (newsletter) What’s next for Jeff (newsletter)
Jeff, who’s going to spend the HC break focusing on our ghostwriting agency, Fresh Complaint. Chantel, who’s going to spend the HC break planning the next season of HC. Sandy, who’s going to spend the HC break making our HC Circle Community THE happening place to hang out. Read in browser | Unsubscribe | Update your profile | 6300 Tower Circle #242, Franklin, TN 37067 |
Laden...
Laden...
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