We all do things differently. There’s no one way to get to the finish line. There is suggestions on how to make the journey more enjoyable. There’s choices that could make it feel like you’re starting over but you’ll never start from the same place twice.
You may even get to a point in life where you have to rebuild. You may have to buy new materials but this time, you know what doesn’t work. And just because you’re starting over doesn’t mean you failed. The fact that you showed up for yourself, is sign that you’re doing better than you think.
On the flip side, trying something brand new, is hard. It’s scary and complex and can feel overwhelming. You might fail. You’re apt to make rookie mistakes because you’re a rookie and this is new but that doesn’t define who you are and it doesn’t define your future.
So whether you’re starting over or starting from scratch, be kind to yourself but most of all, forgive yourself for not knowing. Forgive yourself for knowing and not doing. Do better next time. But don’t quit.
I understand the frustration that comes with wanting to write. I understand that sometimes things don’t feel right. That frustration can cause a spiral. It can cause negative reactions but as conscious writers, it’s important that we focus this energy into our art and creativity. Use it in the story.
But first, encouragement! Because I know how that frustration can really bring you down.
You are a creative. You have boundless creative ideas that flow from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. You bleed new ideas. You sweat stories that remain for centuries. You are here to listen, to observe, and to learn then to write it down. That may seem like an easy task, but it isn’t. Conscious writing is complex and layered and universel in ways that others will never understand, but they’ll want to. They will never know what you sacrificed to find these words. They will never know a lot of things you’ve gone through, and that’s ok. You know. I understand. So, let’s get back to writing.
Frustration is no fun
I envision tossing my computer on a regular basis. It sits between my heart and my stomach and bubbles over my entire body. If this feeling comes up with something I’m not committed to, I just walk away. But when it’s something I’m committed to (like writing), the tears well up and I push to adjust. It took time to learn to stay put even when I’m frustrated. But over time, I’ve learned a few techniques that help me use my frustration as an advantage rather than a hindrance.
What to Do With Our Frustration?
First things first. Figure out where the frustration is coming from. In the Harvard Gazette article titled Soothing Advice for Mad America, Dr. David H. Rosmarin explains that during the pandemic, frustrations are heightened and people are reacting with more anger than usual. Instead of reacting in anger, he suggests that we voice what really worries us about the things that make us angry. He suggested that,
we grow in our emotional strength when we admit and acknowledge [our] weakness.
So, the first thing to do is find the root to your frustration. What is frustrating you? What are you not getting that you wish or need to have? How can we fill this gap?
The second thing to do. Use your struggles to connect with other writers. Admit you’re struggling to writers. We are story machines, but it isn’t always easy and it’s important to admit that. In the same article mentioned above, Dr. Rosmarin said,
As attachment theory teaches us, what we really need is not to be strong, but to be close and connected to the people around us.
Connecting with like minds in a respectful manner is important me all the time. More important than I often admit. So, when I’m struggling I like to reach out for support. I appreciate the small group of people who have supported me through my struggles. Connecting with them mean more to me than the story
The third thing to do. Use what you have. Now that you’ve gotten to the bottom of your frustration, use that in your story. Use it in a poem. Use it as an idea for your next book. Journal about it.
This routine is what separates you from other writers. This is what makes you conscious and aware of who you are. I think the most challenging part of these tips for me is getting to the bottom of my frustrations. Figuring out where it is all coming from, but in the end it’s always worth it.
“Inspiration is the windfall from hard work and focus. Muses are too unreliable to keep on the payroll.” ― Helen Hanson
Ideas are such an interesting thing. They can hit us like a load of bricks. They can grow on us. They can evolve into something completely different. Where do they come from? How do we lose them so easily. How do some stick around more than others?
These are all interesting questions. Over time we’ve attributed our gift of ideas to the muse, but I don’t think that’s right. I think we use our own minds from our own experiences to inspire ourselves. A muse which could be anything, a gust of wind, a spark, a man with few words, is the result of being conscious. So when we give the muse all the credit, it takes away from our own ability to be aware.
Ideas come from within ourselves. We think, and turnover, and observe minute details within our daily lives. We question our characters and when we can’t find the answer we make it up. We recall places and fill in the blanks with our own creativity, intentional or not. As humans….
Something I love about art is that its message can evolve and grow as the art is passed down from the creator. When I first began to write, I used to be offended when people misunderstood my work. Then, I came to realize that the evolution of thought is what art is all about. Not that it’s about being misunderstood but it’s about setting the idea free and allowing it to be whatever it becomes. It’s not always easy to allow your work to be its own thing separate from you as the creator.
“The principles of true art is not to portray, but to evoke.”— Jerzy Kosinski
When we set out to create something, we must trust that when it’s time, a message will be revealed. We must also be understanding that it won’t be in the same way that we, as the artist, received it, because…
According to Allen Combs a professor of Consciousness Studies, “[poet and cultural historian Jean] Gebser’s explorations of art and history [began] with a sudden recognition that art at the fin de siècle represented a new kind of consciousness, a new way of seeing and experiencing reality.” In Combs article he goes on to explain how art and human consciousness has evolved beginning with the idea that consciousness is external or separate from ourselves.
…the number of points of view from which a modern person can see and understand the world is much greater than those available to our ancestors.
Where do creations come from? The creative process is my favorite tidbit when it comes to finding out what goes on behind the scenes in any creative endeavor. So I’ve decided to research and share my thoughts on the creative process. For the sake of clarity…Read more @SaschiaJohnson.com
“I’m a little purple person,” it whispered in my ear. “I run and frolick and think of the many ways I can return to you. It’s just a matter of getting to you.” It takes ten huge steps away from me, but since it’s so small it doesn’t get more then 3 inches from my face. It sits, crosses it’s legs, and faces me. “In between the spaces is space, my dear poet, it’s space to be filled with memories and love and if you even feel the need, hate.” The little purple person then lays down staring at my popcorn ceiling, and places two arms behind his head. “And if you must know, my dear poet, the space between my maddening choices is balance. Where the imagination runs wild because the madness isn’t present, but it was and it will be. Some call it peace, but I believe, my dear poet,” he faces me now, “it’s best left temporary. Because to grow we must change.” He goes silent and slowly closes his eyes. I study this tiny person. He must be no bigger than my thumb. I roll over and look at my popcorn ceiling. My eyes slowly close. That could be true, it could be true.