Creativity is one thing. Commiting to draft after draft of something is another skill set entirely. For some reason, the former is what we are taught to hold in high regard. And yet, the latter is what leads to results.
All of my favourite writers talk about the craft-not-art approach to what actually ends up getting published. Ideas are cheap, putting in the effort to become really good at refining (and redrafting, and redrafting) seems to be what makes the difference.
Something else that really stood out for me is something I think Ira Glass said, if I'm remembering right. Most people get into creative fields because they have a sense of taste - they know what they like, and they roughly know what's good, and they want to make good projects. And when it turns out their first projects are miles away from what they know from their sense of taste is good, it brings this revulsion - 'I'm shit at everything'.
What emerging creatives don't see in the art that forms their sense of taste, and the good and the great things that form them, is the craft side of things - the hundreds and thousands of hours that go into honing natural ability into a skillset, to be able to bring to life whatever it is you imagined into reality.
Thank you for sharing. You've put words to feelings I've been plagued by for as long as I can remember.
All I can say is, how nice are those rare moments when you can get out of your own way and enjoy creating something?
I put some recordings on Youtube a few years ago. They were scrappy, thrown together in an evening. I had friends in quarantine and I just wanted to share something with, just for entertainment. And they were entertained.
How is the "serious" EP that I've been tooling around with for years, better than those, nobody's getting anything out of my endlessly iterating and revising and stressing over a project. Tree falling in the woods. Have you really created anything until somebody else has experienced it?
I think “I’m shit at everything” is the mantra of all creatives, isn’t it? Either that or “I’m shit at everything (but still a genius)”.
Every sentence I write is the worst combination of words in existence, but somehow they all shuffle into line and by the end, the piece is superb. Then, the first time anyone else reads it, the words have reorganised themselves, out of my view, into a steaming pile of horse manure, and I have to beat them into submission during rewrites until they behave themselves.
Apart from a very few utterly perfect people, nothing will ever turn out as well as you hoped. But at the very same time, it will turn out infinitely better than you feared. The consumer of your art knows not what you intended, they can’t see into your mind and view the richness of your ideas, but they can still love and be moved by what you ended up with. And that makes it worth sharing.
Maybe I can't relate because I'm not a creative but when I work on something, such as an essay or software, I don't have any anxiety because I'm not thinking about what other people will think. The focus is on improving my ability.
I found a solution. I have a I'm crap at everything hobby (drawing) and a I'm kinda good at this (crochet) hobby. When I'm anxious, I stick to crochet with patterns, when I'm not, I draw. It's really interesting to see the difference between drawings I've made in "I'm shit at everything" periods and in periods when I'm okay.
I have this conversation with my kids quite often. My go to expression is "You weren't born on roller blades" to try to remind them that it is a process.
You have to learn to walk first and it's sort of ugly. You're bumping into things all the time, falling down and sometimes going just as far sideways as forward. Then, once you've mastered that you try to run and it's awkward and sort of ugly again. Eventually that phase is mastered and then you put on a pair of " My First Roller Skates" with the wide wheels and all the safety equipment. Often times they're done for the day if they fall down just once at this stage. Once again, it's awkward and messy until they get confortable enough that when the cycle repeats they are slightly less uncomfortable when they put on a pair of "real" skates. They still make mistakes but they've learned how to fall a little more gracefully now and they have enough confidence that they get back up again and keep going. Eventually they get rollerblades and are zooming all around doing spins, skating backwards and weaving around everyone else.
When they pick up a new hobby or get discouraged with an older hobby because their mind's eye masterpiece isn't matching whatever "monstrosity" is in front of them I'll ask them which part of the rollerblading process are they in. It usually gives them some perspective about where at in the learning process they are.
We also have a quote by Thomas Edison on our DAKBoard:
I never once failed at making a light bulb. I just found out 99 ways not to make one. I know of over 3,000 ways a light bulb does not work.
Back when I watched a lot of YouTube I always liked watching videos by Evan and Katelyn because they showed their failures and didn't edit them out. They would often try things outside of their comfort zone and it was presented as rather wholesome and natural to fail and then they'd explain why they think plan b would be better. I have no idea how scripted the shows are but I found it refreshing compared to other maker channels I had watched where someone claims to have never used a hammer in their life and then goes on to build something like the Sistine Chapel in an afternoon.
This is a very interesting post, OP. Thanks for sharing such vulnerable thoughts so openly about your creativity.
I want to share one thought with you, as I used to suffer from such anxious thoughts myself. I have learned that there is so much to be gained from "crappy projects", because I learn from them. I learn what I don't want to do, I learn where my strengths are, I learn where I need to improve. I have mountains of crappy projects, endless amounts of them, and I used to be so embarrassed by them. Now I cherish them, because they have taught me (and continue to teach me), and help me improve to the place I want to be at. Each failed project reminds me "don't give up, you're getting there, step by step."
I've also learned that sometimes I just need distance; so many times I've been convinced "this is shit!" I toss it away, then a few years later come upon it, look at it with fresh eyes and think "this isn't as bad as I thought." Just a thought!
One other thought for you: have you ever painted watercolor? Or any sort of painting which often requires a lot of layers? So, so many times I have looked at a project and thought "damn, this is awful", but the more layers I put on, it takes on more life, and it becomes beautiful. Forcing yourself to finish a project through that you are convinced is terrible, can also be useful for this reason, I have found (because once it's completed, it might not be as awful as you thought.)
I would highly encourage you to finish one of these "crappy projects" some time, and see if anything interesting comes out of it for you. Even if you take a break in between for a week, a month, a year, two years... whatever... and only pick it up again later once inspiration strikes. (I've sometimes found this long break is very helpful, rather than forcing myself to finish when I'm in a rut. But everyone is different!)
Creativity is one thing. Commiting to draft after draft of something is another skill set entirely. For some reason, the former is what we are taught to hold in high regard. And yet, the latter is what leads to results.
All of my favourite writers talk about the craft-not-art approach to what actually ends up getting published. Ideas are cheap, putting in the effort to become really good at refining (and redrafting, and redrafting) seems to be what makes the difference.
Something else that really stood out for me is something I think Ira Glass said, if I'm remembering right. Most people get into creative fields because they have a sense of taste - they know what they like, and they roughly know what's good, and they want to make good projects. And when it turns out their first projects are miles away from what they know from their sense of taste is good, it brings this revulsion - 'I'm shit at everything'.
What emerging creatives don't see in the art that forms their sense of taste, and the good and the great things that form them, is the craft side of things - the hundreds and thousands of hours that go into honing natural ability into a skillset, to be able to bring to life whatever it is you imagined into reality.
Thank you for sharing. You've put words to feelings I've been plagued by for as long as I can remember.
All I can say is, how nice are those rare moments when you can get out of your own way and enjoy creating something?
I put some recordings on Youtube a few years ago. They were scrappy, thrown together in an evening. I had friends in quarantine and I just wanted to share something with, just for entertainment. And they were entertained.
How is the "serious" EP that I've been tooling around with for years, better than those, nobody's getting anything out of my endlessly iterating and revising and stressing over a project. Tree falling in the woods. Have you really created anything until somebody else has experienced it?
I think “I’m shit at everything” is the mantra of all creatives, isn’t it? Either that or “I’m shit at everything (but still a genius)”.
Every sentence I write is the worst combination of words in existence, but somehow they all shuffle into line and by the end, the piece is superb. Then, the first time anyone else reads it, the words have reorganised themselves, out of my view, into a steaming pile of horse manure, and I have to beat them into submission during rewrites until they behave themselves.
Apart from a very few utterly perfect people, nothing will ever turn out as well as you hoped. But at the very same time, it will turn out infinitely better than you feared. The consumer of your art knows not what you intended, they can’t see into your mind and view the richness of your ideas, but they can still love and be moved by what you ended up with. And that makes it worth sharing.
Maybe I can't relate because I'm not a creative but when I work on something, such as an essay or software, I don't have any anxiety because I'm not thinking about what other people will think. The focus is on improving my ability.
I found a solution. I have a I'm crap at everything hobby (drawing) and a I'm kinda good at this (crochet) hobby. When I'm anxious, I stick to crochet with patterns, when I'm not, I draw. It's really interesting to see the difference between drawings I've made in "I'm shit at everything" periods and in periods when I'm okay.
Sadly I've not been okay since I had Covid.
I have this conversation with my kids quite often. My go to expression is "You weren't born on roller blades" to try to remind them that it is a process.
You have to learn to walk first and it's sort of ugly. You're bumping into things all the time, falling down and sometimes going just as far sideways as forward. Then, once you've mastered that you try to run and it's awkward and sort of ugly again. Eventually that phase is mastered and then you put on a pair of " My First Roller Skates" with the wide wheels and all the safety equipment. Often times they're done for the day if they fall down just once at this stage. Once again, it's awkward and messy until they get confortable enough that when the cycle repeats they are slightly less uncomfortable when they put on a pair of "real" skates. They still make mistakes but they've learned how to fall a little more gracefully now and they have enough confidence that they get back up again and keep going. Eventually they get rollerblades and are zooming all around doing spins, skating backwards and weaving around everyone else.
When they pick up a new hobby or get discouraged with an older hobby because their mind's eye masterpiece isn't matching whatever "monstrosity" is in front of them I'll ask them which part of the rollerblading process are they in. It usually gives them some perspective about where at in the learning process they are.
We also have a quote by Thomas Edison on our DAKBoard:
Back when I watched a lot of YouTube I always liked watching videos by Evan and Katelyn because they showed their failures and didn't edit them out. They would often try things outside of their comfort zone and it was presented as rather wholesome and natural to fail and then they'd explain why they think plan b would be better. I have no idea how scripted the shows are but I found it refreshing compared to other maker channels I had watched where someone claims to have never used a hammer in their life and then goes on to build something like the Sistine Chapel in an afternoon.
This is a very interesting post, OP. Thanks for sharing such vulnerable thoughts so openly about your creativity.
I want to share one thought with you, as I used to suffer from such anxious thoughts myself. I have learned that there is so much to be gained from "crappy projects", because I learn from them. I learn what I don't want to do, I learn where my strengths are, I learn where I need to improve. I have mountains of crappy projects, endless amounts of them, and I used to be so embarrassed by them. Now I cherish them, because they have taught me (and continue to teach me), and help me improve to the place I want to be at. Each failed project reminds me "don't give up, you're getting there, step by step."
I've also learned that sometimes I just need distance; so many times I've been convinced "this is shit!" I toss it away, then a few years later come upon it, look at it with fresh eyes and think "this isn't as bad as I thought." Just a thought!
One other thought for you: have you ever painted watercolor? Or any sort of painting which often requires a lot of layers? So, so many times I have looked at a project and thought "damn, this is awful", but the more layers I put on, it takes on more life, and it becomes beautiful. Forcing yourself to finish a project through that you are convinced is terrible, can also be useful for this reason, I have found (because once it's completed, it might not be as awful as you thought.)
I would highly encourage you to finish one of these "crappy projects" some time, and see if anything interesting comes out of it for you. Even if you take a break in between for a week, a month, a year, two years... whatever... and only pick it up again later once inspiration strikes. (I've sometimes found this long break is very helpful, rather than forcing myself to finish when I'm in a rut. But everyone is different!)
I remember a quote from an old PSA that used to run on Canadian cable TV years ago.
"Nobody's good at everything...but everybody's good at something".