The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man.
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The Question of
Fear & Creativity
Creativity is a funny thing. It's crucial to our survival--a source of inspiration, discovery, and problem-solving. It can bring us great joy, joy to those around us, and those who follow, too.
It's also terrifying.
New ideas, inventions, and ways of doing things upset the status quo. Warnings about the dangers of creativity infiltrate everything: Don't rock the boat. The nail that stands up is pounded down. That's not the way we do things here. Keep your head down. Color inside the lines, the sky is always blue, the right answer is (c). Don't risk being wrong.
At the same time, we recognize (and sometimes envy) the results of creativity: the breakthrough ideas that change the world, art and literature that touch something profound and deeply human within us.
We're warned about that, too. You'll suffer for your art or idea, be isolated, miserable, and misunderstood, even reviled. "Creativity" is for tortured geniuses and crazed artists. It's not for the average office worker, park ranger, salesman, store clerk, politician, librarian, cubicle dweller. It's not for you.
Even thinking about the need to come up with a "creative idea" can generate so much anxiety that our brains seize up like an engine without oil.
But what exactly, are we afraid of?
It's a question I ask my clients--and myself--all the time. It sounds like an odd question, maybe even an irrelevant question, but it isn't.
I lob the question across the phone line with a long-time client: what is your number-one fear? I slide the question into a meeting agenda: what are we afraid of? I rattle the question around in my daily journal: what fear is getting in the way of my creativity today?
After the question, there is always silence.
It stretches, suspended, across a universe of time.
I want to jump in and say: I know the answer! I know why you're scared! I've been here before, I see it all the time, I get it, and trust me, it'll be okay, better than okay, just leap now and you'll be fine!
But I have learned to wait through the silence, most days.
Because the silence itself is like creativity: we have to be brave enough to wait it out, to let both obvious and never-knew-they-were-there answers float into our awareness.
My impulse to jump into the silence isn't because I know the answer. It's because I want to jump over the question directly to action. It's a variation of "ready, fire, aim." Sometimes it works, which of course reinforces the urge to jump quickly. And it's complicated by the fact that sometimes, the answer really is to leap before you look. Sometimes, our intuitive selves know the answer and what we're leaping over isn't silence but the fear that we can't trust ourselves.
Naming the fear is the first step to defining a specific problem.
Defining the problem is the first step to discovering a solution that works.
Discovery is what creativity is all about.
I'm afraid my work will be uninspired and uninspiring, that my writing will be boring, or something you've heard or read so many times that it's become cliché. So I push myself to come up with over-the-top ideas and approaches.
I'm afraid my clients will hate my over-the-top ideas and never hire me again. So I try to temper my ideas so I don't scare anybody off.
I'm afraid I'm second-guessing myself for no good reason. Or that I should be second-guessing myself more often. I'm afraid this "hesitation two-step" is a waste of time. No--I know it's a waste of time. So I name it for what it is--distrusting myself, distrusting the audience--and write the draft. A draft can always be rewritten. Fussed with. Improved.
Sometimes, I'm afraid that my readers or my client will think I'm not professional, that I'm too flippant, too provocative, too...too something. I'm afraid that they're afraid the work we're creating will cause unintended discomfort or conflict or outright confrontation, even though I don't think it will, but I can never be sure until we release the work into the world, and I'm afraid that my inability to prove up-front that it will be fine means we'll be too afraid to release the work into the world. So I drag the fear out of hiding, name it arrogance, perfectionism, the belief that I can and should know everything, and I write what I think best serves the client, the audience, and the story. Especially the story.
I'm afraid that one of the punctuation glitches that make me twitch--the wrong apostrophe, a common homonym--will appear in the final draft. And worse, that my mother will see it and know that I'm an idiot after all.
I'm afraid I'll disappoint my readers. I'm afraid I'll disappoint myself. I'm afraid that the approach I try won't work, that I'll have to start over (and over and over) and that I'll miss the deadline, run over-budget, not get paid, lose my reputation, and everyone, not just my mother, will know I'm an idiot.
So I read a lot. I write even more. I practice. I take risks and try new things. I pay attention to how creative process works for me, and how it works for my clients.
And always, I ask the question, and wait for today's answer to echo back from the silence.
What are you afraid of?
Judy
Comments? Questions?
Tell us!
970/416-6353
888/886-9289
email Judy
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I'm presenting at the NAI conference.
Hope you'll join in the fun!
- I'll be going on the Interpreter's Road Show (preconference session Monday and Tuesday, Nov. 12-13)--
- Chowing down at Wednesday night's Cravin' Seafood--
- Taking tickets as the bus monitor for the Fort Monroe off-site session on Friday--
- Hoping for a bidding war on the item* I've donated for the auction on Friday night--
AND
- On Thursday, November 15, at 9:15 a.m., I'll be presenting a new two-hour breakout session called "The Shortest Distance Between Two People is a Story."
Come to my session and you'll get a free copy of Chapter 1 of our new book, The Art and Craft of Interpretive Writing.
Here's more info about "Shortest Distance." The stories we create reflect and reveal us: who we are, where we come from, what we believe. Audiences who see themselves reflected in our stories may form powerful connections to those stories. But sometimes, the opposite happens: the story alienates our audience. Exploring the stories that form our identity--experimenting with re-interpreting, reframing, and changing them--helps us create powerful, compelling connections with our audience. When we change the story, we change ourselves--and, perhaps, the world.
*My auction item is an original woven cotton throw (or wall-hanging) with a design created from one of my photos of Antelope Canyon. It's very cool. Or warm. Cozy, actually.
Here's the photo I began with.
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New 2-day Interp Writing Workshop
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Beginning in 2013, John Veverka and I will be presenting a new 2-day interpretive writing workshop, and we're looking for host sites.
Whether you're thinking about a workshop specifically for your site, agency, or organization or one that's open to all comers, Inside Interpretive Writing will deliver comprehensive and cost-effective training to help you and your team create powerful, compelling interpretive messages.
John and I will team-teach each workshop, so participants will have plenty of personalized attention. In addition to building skills and confidence, participants will take home an edited and reviewed interpretive writing project--
the equivalent of receiving over $600 in consulting work.
Host sites cover instructor travel and lodging and provide a conference or class room large enough for the anticipated number of participants (minimum 10, maximum 30), tables and chairs, wi-fi, an easel and Post-It type easel paper, and coffee, tea, and water. Workshop fee is $300 per participant and includes two full days of training and all workshop materials and handouts. (Travel expenses can also be pro-rated and added to the per-person workshop fee in all or part). Depending on the type of workshop (only those associated with the host site or open to anyone), the host site, Greenfire Creative, or both may handle marketing and registration.
For more information or to schedule a workshop for your group, contact Judy (888/886-9289, judyb@greenfire-creative.com).
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