fears

What we give up by being creative

There’s a high cost to being a maker or creative.

Of course I’m talking about the cost of diving into the unknown, of taking something comfortable or familiar and throwing it away.

To create is to destroy: the empty canvas, the blank page, the solid stone, or perception or even beliefs. The pursuit of new and different requires us to abandon—at least temporarily—the old and familiar.

What happens when the new isn’t as good or reliable as the old? What do we do when what we create doesn’t feel worthy of the destruction? How do we know when we’ve succeeded or fulfilled our purpose as a creative? How do we know when more (or better) ideas and projects on the horizon, or if we’ve reached our peak?

I don’t know the answers. What I do know is that the adventure into figuring out the answers for yourself is almost always worthwhile.

The reality is that the journey of a creative—of someone who imagines an alternate way forward or who asks what might happen when something gets made—is one fraught with uncertainty, dead ends, and many nights of discouraged restlessness.

When you begin to embrace curiosity and creation, when you open yourself to newness, you will never be the same. It’s like walking through a door you can’t go back through. Once you’re through, you’ll see things or feel things or have things you didn’t before.

But what we trade-off for all this is something we can’t get any other way: a different tomorrow. Something tangible that wasn’t there yesterday. A new book or blog post. A sculpture. A photograph or video, or conference, or document that proves “I was here, I made this.” A different perspective, or a more clarified one. A more vivid idea of what’s possible or why things are the way they are.

Even when the work isn’t up to snuff—when what we make doesn’t match what was in our head, of compared to what someone else made before us—we still learn, we still will have made something that wasn’t there yesterday.

And the result of any creative endeavor is this: a guiding light or inspiration to others, and a reminder for ourselves. A difference big or small in the way you think or feel or see. And that difference is what creativity is all about. Not accepting the status quo for what it is. Not looking around you and believing it doesn’t get better. We must appreciate everything around us that is beautiful and unique and valuable, but we must also remember that what often makes those things so is that they are impermanent.

There’s always the great unknown just around the corner. And when we go out to face it we give up a lot, but gain a lot too.



Facing the fear that you may not be that creative and all your ideas are bad

Nearly every idea I have feels bland or stale.

Some of my ideas have been bad. But have all of them, all of my ideas and all of my projects, been so… uncreative? Some of my writing has certainly felt repetitive or seemingly outdated. Some of my artwork has felt boring and unoriginal. Most of my ideas strike me as “not all that great” on their face.

And, sometimes, when I write an idea down, or start writing an article, or open Photoshop to design, I stop myself before I even get started on the idea. Why? Because I feel that the idea is just not creative enough. What’s the point?

This, this moment of pause and stepping back in the creative process, is what’s become known as the Lizard Brain. Maybe you’re familiar with the term, maybe you’re not.

The gist of these moments is this: there’s a part of our brain that has been around since the time we resembled lizards. It’s the part of our brain that makes us want to run away any time we’re faced with something new, or different, or challenging.

When we have an idea or start a project but take just a second longer to think about what it is we’re actually doing, we realize that we could fail, or that the idea pales in comparison to others that exist. We doubt our capabilities or what our individual purpose is as an artist, or photographer, or writer, or dancer, or musician, or student.

We experience this a lot as creatives, no matter where we are at in our career. Even professionals sit down in front of the computer, or canvas, or stage, and think to themselves: “This is garbage, I can’t do this.” I know I feel that way a lot.

It’s important to recognize these moments, because what we do next is what sets us apart as true artists, writers, and makers.

The amateur – the “wanna-be” – stops whenever they feel the feeling that they’re not that creative. They give up. They put the notebook, or canvas, or computer away and turn on the TV instead. It’s easy to lay in front of the couch and watch something somebody else has created. It’s much, much more difficult to say “fuck it” and try the idea anyway.

But doing that – feeling the fear and doing the work regardless – is what makes our efforts worthwhile.

Even if the idea isn’t all that creative after-all, even if nobody notices at first, even if you fail… after long enough of pursuing the work (and feeling the fear of failing or being an impostor but doing the work anyway), people start to notice; we start to notice ourselves.

And after enough of that type of work a funny thing happens: we become exactly what we wanted to be. We become the writer, or the designer, or the business person, or the creative guy or gal. Because what do those people do but write, or design, or run the business, or have ideas?

Being creative isn’t about having the best, world-changing ideas, or making the type of work that gets rave reviews from millions of people. Being creative is about having the ideas and starting the work, feeling afraid that you might fail or that you have no idea what you’re doing, and doing it anyway.

When I feel myself start to shutter and shake at the thought of writing another article, starting another project, or touting myself as someone who thinks creatively, I have to remind myself to do it anyway. Because that’s just what we do.



You have to face your fears if you really want to be creative

tumblr_l5i3m1c4TC1qz7sw8o1_500.jpg

Facing your fears.

Embracing the idea that you may lose.

Not being intimidated by mistakes.

If you want to be creative, you have to be unafraid. Unafraid of losing. Unafraid of getting hurt. Unafraid of being wrong or looking like a fool. When the Wright brothers took their first leap off of a small cliff to prove that they knew how to really fly, do you think they were afraid? Of course they were afraid. But they weren’t afraid of falling to their death ‒ per say ‒ rather, they were afraid of not risking everything to succeed.

If you want to be creative you have to face your fears once in a while. You have to understand that you might lose, and that’s okay. Be different. Be bold. Take a risk. Make a leap.

Original “man in a hot air balloon” illustration used in this article was created by Kevin Cornell for A List Apart.