I have a friend. We’ve been through a lot together, both good and bad, and have the scars to show for it. Now this friend, he’s an artist and spends extended amounts of time in solitude creating his art. He’s quite good and, generally speaking, has the confidence to match.
But a few times a year, as we talk about the creative process and what it’s like to work through it, one of us will slide off into a funk that usually begins with the words, “I feel lost and can’t seem to figure out what comes next. My art is trash, I don’t have what it takes, so maybe it’s time to just call it quits and see what’s on TV.”
We had this conversation recently. It was his turn to slide. Normally I listen, offer a word of encouragement, and try to pat him on the back as a way of saying everything’s gonna be all right. But as we talked it dawned on me what was really going on. My friend had lost sight of who he was because no one was there to remind him.
Here’s the thing–being you is a collaboration. It’s a shared effort of discovery between you and those who love and encourage you, those who ridicule you, and those who challenge you. Our culture rewards (read “demands”) a sadistic brand of independence, but the truth is we cannot be fully us on our own. It is impossible. We cannot be self-aware without some help.
Think about it. At some point, someone in your life realized that you were pretty good at writing, dancing, drawing, singing–whatever. Eventually you believed them, gave “it” a go (whatever “it” was), and began nurturing your talent. With time, you discovered that, hey, they were right and another piece of your identity locked into place. You became more fully “you” but only with someone else’s insight.
So, to discover and become what we were made for has as much to do with other people as it does with us. We need others to help us perceive and then become “us”. It’s a sort of improvised collaboration, like a jazz riff. And it’s ongoing because we have to be reminded who we are. We forget. We slide into a funk. Most of our life is lived in the fog of self-doubt and uncertainty, not in clarity.
So what? You say. What’s all that mean? Well, for artists it highlights the importance of plugging in with other artists. Four years ago I began writing fiction in my spare time. If you would’ve asked me then if I was a “writer” I would’ve said no way. I couldn’t see it and I had no one around to read my stuff and say, “You know, that’s not half bad. You’ve got a talent there worth working on.”
It wasn’t until I began meeting with some friends who are much better writers than I am that I began to truly see myself as a writer and identify myself as one. Them calling me a “writer” made me one in a way. I began seeing myself as one and it has given me confidence that I didn’t have before.
The point is this: find a handful of people that you can collaborate with. It may take you awhile because finding honest people walking the journey can be tough. Share your stuff, be honest, and be open because it may turn out that you’re not really a _______(fill in the blank) after all. It could be that you’ll discover something altogether different than you were digging for.
As for my friend, well, he’s out of his funk. Next time it’ll be my turn then he can remind me who I am. Because that’s how this thing works.
Excellent post Kevin!! I read your Flash Fiction WIP (that was a while ago) that you came up with in a brief time and I thought you had excellent writing skills. In fact, in reading your WIP, I learned a few things from you. Thanks for your post today!!!
Good one. This applies beautifully to other things, too, like being a mother or an orator. It’s hard to deep down know you are something all by yourself.
Best. Post. Ever.
My wife, a very creative type, is that ‘friend’ to me. When she made comments about my first shot at a novel, I thought to myself, “Well, yeah, she’s my wife. Of course she’s going to think my writing’s a Dean Koontz-Ted Dekker-Stephen King ice cream sunday.” Ha.
As it turns out, she WAS just being encouraging when I first started penning fiction. She admits now that she was skeptical. In fact, she even teases me over the first scene I ever wrote (she calls it “The Red Button” scene; had something to do with a remote. Yuck.)
But even though my writing failed to wow her, she never once doubted my passion. And that was her shaping me. That was the start of collaboration.
She noted that I had: 1) Slathered a good share of Bum-Glue on my chair; and 2) Simply liked learning. I think that’s why she kept repeating — and I mean daily — the KoonDekKing stuff. She didn’t see my lack of talent; she focused on what might be possible.
Now, two years later, my wife has shifted gears. She looks at my work with entirely new eyes (and I’d like to think she no longer blanches). Whatever editorial whiplash she withheld during my starting up days, see, has officially risen from the ashes full of fury. She’s the best first-draft editor I know. She’d rip this little comment of mine apart, I’m sure.
… and yet it’s a brand new level of collaboration between us.
She is an aspiring writer of middle grade fiction, and I can only hope to shape her as she has shaped me. Thank you for sharing this, Kevin. Really hit home.
SO true.
I KNOW that I need this from other people. What your blog actually reminded me was that other people need it too, and that hopefully I can be that encouragement to them as well. Some people have encouragement as a spiritual gift and those people are amazing to have around one’s self.
It applies to everything, really, whether someone is an artist or mom (like Arisia pointed out). The “superstory” is that we were made for each other. Unfortunately, in the west we don’t do community very well so it takes some extra effort both to know and be known. But it’s worth it. Thanks for all the great comments.
This is life-finding, life-giving truth about being in community. It made me think not only about my own creative identity, but about the opportunities I have to speak into other lives. Thanks, Kevin.
You’re right, Erin. And in a way it’s an act of creation when we’re in community, very similar to the Creator “calling things that are not as though they were.” Goethe hit it on the head when he wrote, “Treat people as though they are what they should be and you help them become what they are capable of being.” He may not have had this particular discussion in mind, but I think it applies. To think that we play a large role in the formation of the lives of those near to us is an incredible (and fear inspiring) notion.