Welcome to the Creative Chaos
Welcome to Wild Minds! There are so many themes I want to dive into immediately—themes like perfectionism, discipline, rhythm, power, process, and so on—but I think I’d better start with an introductory post.
I’m a writer—a writer of creative nonfiction, a screenwriter with a TV series passion project, and a novelist currently revising for the umpteenth time my #Minnesota tale about a man, his mother-in-law, and the perfect bulldog. I come to writing with an extensive background as a classical pianist, so comparing creative processes is a lifelong obsession of mine.
I used to try to be equal parts writer and pianist, but I found they clashed. The writer needed extra time to be a little spacey and couldn’t focus with a clock ticking, while the pianist was desperate for structure and a larger share of the energy.
The trick became to take turns—to be, for a while, a pianist who writes, and then become a writer who plays the piano. If one discipline played second fiddle (har har) to the other, it worked for a time. If I was a pianist first, I loved writing because it was without pressure. If I was a writer first, the piano was an intimate friend I could depend on to fill my creative cup when writers’ block struck. They became reprieves from one another instead of competitors; they sustained one another instead of deprived.
Switching between the two gave each of them chances to exist without pressure, which allowed them room to grow.
Sometimes being an artist of multiple disciplines, as so many artists are, feels like tending to an unmanageable garden—and this is before considering the genres within each art form. Practicing a fugue by J. S. Bach is different from performing a sonata by Florence Price. Revising a personal essay is worlds away from drafting a screenplay. As a self-identified Ridiculously-Type-A-Perfectionist, I have created an embarrassing number of unattainable daily schedules that include set times for generative writing, short story work, creative nonfiction, novel writing, screenwriting, piano technique, Bach, Chopin, Beach… are you tired yet?
I’m gradually learning to let the garden grow—to allow my creative life to choose me, instead of forcing it to fit where I think it should go. Nurturing whatever most needs nurturing—whether due to an expressive need or an external deadline—is all I can do. “All I can do” moves me forward, and “trying to do everything” only holds everything back.
It can be vulnerable to say “I’m an artist” because it often feels like saying “I’m an expert,” which is perhaps the opposite of what an artist is. Artists wonder, explore, get messy. The canvas starts out blank every time. I’ve created this blog not because I have any answers (unless you need an editor or a piano teacher or a good Mary Tyler Moore episode), but because I have questions about the creative journey and its plethora of sub-journeys.
Wild Minds is a space to:
reflect on creative journeys - what is it to be a writer? a singer? a designer of cat costumes?
explore creative processes - what is the work? what works for one person and what works for another?
invite other artists into #1 and #2 - yes, this means fun Q&As are coming!
create some inspiration - by collecting advice, resources, and words to create by
have a little fun - because sometimes art is really hard work, and everyone needs a break
Ultimately, I am trying to be a good artist, which is to continuously strive to become a better artist, reaching towards the parts I cannot see of the road in front of me. The road is infinite. It travels everywhere by aiming for a place that can’t exist. (More on perfectionism later, I’m sure.)
I like to think of all these independent artist-roads as winding through the universe, occasionally intersecting with one another and sometimes joining together for a while, but ultimately singular and unique. To me, this is one of the most beautiful parts of being an artist—how thoroughly you get to know yourself, how much you belong to yourself in the act of creating.
Joan Didion famously wrote, “I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means.”
I blog to have a little fun while writing to find out what I’m thinking—and to learn from what Dorothy Parker called the “wild minds and disciplined eyes” of other creators along the way. Sometimes the best artistic practices are the ones that take the pressure off.
Read Joan Didion’s “Why I Write” essay here.
If you need a Mary Tyler Moore episode, I’m a sucker for a good Phyllis Lindstrom opening. (Rest In Peace, Cloris Leachman.)
Also, did you know Dorothy Parker worked as a pianist until she sold her first poem to Vanity Fair?
Read more Wild Minds posts here.