I cannot count the number of times I have put off doing art for what seemed to be sensible reasons.
Clean the kitchen. Put a wash on. Tidy my desk. Update my VST plugins. Change my guitar strings. Do some work. Call my parents (sorry, Mum).
“Do this thing first, then your head will be clear and you’ll have a great creative session”. That’s what I tell myself. In the meantime, I can keep thinking about doing the art. Make it even more perfect inside my head. I can keep worrying about how it’s not going to be good enough, how it’s not going to end up looking like how I imagined it.
Meet My Friend: Worry
Worrying is good. We know Worry. We know it well. We do it all the time. Worry is a good friend.
Worry is protecting us. From bad reviews, from bad comments. Worry is saving us from finding out we are not good enough. Worry is this voice telling us: “Don’t go out today. It might rain.”
If we pick up the pen, the guitar, the camera, we might discover all the nasty things the voice inside our head was saying were actually true. Our good friend Worry has our back. It will make it its mission to create those random (sensible) distracting tasks, and keep us busy so that we never learn if the monsters under the bed are real.
Crossroads
The other day, I read something in The Artist’s Way that made me do a double take. It said that blocked creatives were addicted to anxiety:
“You’ve cleared a morning to write or paint but then you realize that the clothes are dirty. ‘I’ll just think about what to paint and fine-tune it while I fold the clothes,’ you tell yourself. What you really mean is, ‘Instead of painting anything, I will worry about it some more’. Somehow, the laundry takes your whole morning.
Most blocked creatives have an active addiction to anxiety. We prefer the low-grade pain and occasional heart-stopping panic attack to the drudgery of small and simple daily steps in the right direction.”
- Julia Cameron
I was shocked. I had a few seconds of denial, before realising that I related so much to this. And then I couldn’t unsee it.
We’re at a crossroads. It’s a choice.
We can choose to create and maybe get confirmation that our worst fears were true, that we were never made to be an artist anyway. Or we can choose to worry instead. And keep living in a dream. The dream world of “One day, when I decide to put my mind to it, I will show everyone”.
| Do Art (Why we avoid it) | Worry Instead (Why we choose it) |
|---|---|
| What if I am not good enough ? | I have to make it perfect. I should spend more time thinking about it. |
| What if my ideas aren’t original? | I don’t find out if my fears are real. |
| It’s so much work. I don’t have time. | I don’t have enough time right now. I shouldn’t start if I can’t finish. |
| What if people call me out? Make fun of me? | If I put my mind to it, one day I will show them. |
One road leads to finding out and doing. Finding out that if it is not that (record an album), it will be something else (write a book).
The other road is a treadmill, a hamster wheel that only powers pain and anxiety.
So Why Do Art When I Can Worry Instead?
- Because I am scared of finding out if I am right or wrong.
- Because I am scared it might be hard.
- Because I am scared people might make fun of me.
- Because I am scared it might work.
- Because I am scared of not knowing what to do if it doesn’t work.
- Because I am scared I am not good enough.
- Because I am scared.
So, what do I have to lose, really?
I could always try, time-box it, then go back to worrying if I don’t like it.
Let’s do that. Let’s try.
All I need is 30 minutes.