Well put, Sally.
My point also is that there are a lot of ways to begin a piece or a
body of work… There’s also a lot of ways that people get stuck and
a lot of ways that people bust through the walls that sometimes pop
up.
I see many parallels between writing and metalsmithing,
painting–what have you. They are all creative endeavors. To extend
the metaphor, there are writers whose interviews I have heard or read
who approach the whole business of writing very differently than
Annie Lamott. They consider every word carefully before it is typed
or written down on the page. And then they edit as well. Some writers
conceive the entire project–essay, novel, technical article-- fully
before they begin, outlining the whole thing and then fleshing that
outline in. Other writers detest outlines and simply begin at the
beginning (or even somewhere in the middle), writing fully developed
sentences as they proceed.
I think that fear can enter into the creative process at many
different points. Fear of the “blank page” occurs, of course, in any
medium. Painters, sculptors, writers, jewelers-- I imagine actors, as
well-- experience the intimidation of beginning. But even once the
process has begun, once the the wheels are turning, fear can pop up.
The fear of beginning is joined by the fear of making the wrong
decision or even the fear of continuing (aka the fear of wasted time
or material) with a piece that may or may not turn out.
Make it past those and the fear of completion may lie in wait. This
worry is complex. It can simply be another version of making the
wrong decision: choosing the lesser of two possible resolutions. Or
it may be the fear of commitment: choose one resolution and all the
others go away. (Consider Michael Sturlin’s advice of using the next
piece to explore more possibilities.) Or it may be the fear of what’s
next: where do I go from heree
I have experienced all those fears at different times. Getting past
them is the key. Various strategies work. The cognitive: "What is
bothering mee ". Using more fear to lever the situation: “Time is
ticking and I have to do something…”. Even anger and terminal
frustration can serve as the catalyst: “I’ve had it. I just don’t
care what happens or how it turns out; I’m just going to finish/start
this!”
Here’s some common fears that I’ve encountered in myself and that I
have observed in students:
Fear of the “blank page”.
Fear of completion.
Fear of judgement.
Fear of failure.
Fear of being “found out”.
Fear of the unknown.
Fear of change.
Fear of commitment.
Fear of mediocrity.
It’s funny, but I think that when it comes to making art, the more
success or notoriety that you have achieved, the more difficult it
can become to take chances. It can be scary to try something new and
maybe not get the accolades that you may have gotten used to. Those
pats on the back can feel very good…
But, really, I think that it may be glib to see fear as the only
game in town when it comes to “blocks”-- jewelers’ block/writers’
block/painters’ block, etc. Maybe it is simply boredom that can stand
in the way.
Back to the writing: I have found myself to be all those types of
writers at different times. Sometimes I’m the page puker, just
getting it all out and sorting through the mess; sometimes the
outliner; sometimes the brick layer: linear, systematic, laying down
one carefully considered and moving to the next.
We all see things so differently and work in such a variety of ways
at different points in our lives that there must be a multitude of
reasons for starting and stopping and a multitude of strategies to
keep things moving along. Often times, for me, it is a matter of just
continuing to work. Keeping at it. I consider myself a professional
and (as I have written before) have a real problem with the notion
that artists somehow sit around waiting for inspiration. We all need
inspiration but it can come from a lot of places, sometimes just
appearing, sometimes in the form of cash incentive (pay check),
sometimes by simple observation and application (how do I replicate
that accidente). And sometimes you just have to go out and look for
it.
Take care, Andy