Facilitator/Thief

I have benefited so much from what technology has enabled me to do, much of which was unthinkable not that many years ago.

Take recording.  Having had the privilege of recording in some great studios, I know the magic of being in a room with other musicians and creating something together, playing off each other.  On the other hand, the freedom and accessibility that software has given to a vastly larger number of musicians (me included) has been, I believe, a great thing.  I recorded a solo album in the late 90’s.  It was a daunting proposition to rent a studio, hire musicians, and complete the project.  Trying to compete qualitatively with the big dollar major label albums on a shoestring budget was challenging.  Even if you did get through those hoops, trying to make your album available to the public was virtually an insurmountable obstacle.  If you didn’t have a distribution deal, forget getting your album in stores so people could buy it.  That shelf space was the exclusive domain of the majors.  Now the only thing stopping a musical artist from making a recording and distributing it world wide is her own resolve and imagination.

All to say, I am an unapologetic proponent of the capabilities technology has afforded artists.  There is, however, a rub.  We have in front of us unprecedented opportunities, but they come with unprecedented challenges.  Both require us to enter our work with a heightened discipline. Technology, the great facilitator, can also be the greatest thief.  The same tools that give us revolutionary means of connection, production and distribution can also steal our time and attention, which can undo the very creative life we’re seeking to exercise.

The challenge of utilizing these amazing tools while guarding our time and attention is no small feat.  At any minute, during our creative work, we are vulnerable to having our time sabotaged by an email alert, a text ding, or a notification that someone has mentioned us online somewhere.  I wrestle with these distractions every day.  I know this:  nothing yields a greater harvest from my creativity than to do the creative work.  It seems more than worthwhile to consciously and deliberately build in healthy boundaries and safeguards to insure that we reach our creative potential, and not just become information consumers.

Here’s some articles that have helped me with this daily challenge:

Staying Grounded in the Age of Information Overload

How Effective People Handle Email

How I Gave Up Email and Reclaimed 3 Hours a Day

 

It’s Easy (?)

Recently I heard two songwriter heroes of mine use the word “easy” to describe their creative process.  Both times the word jumped out because of both the sincerity behind it and the formidable bodies of work these two great talents have amassed.

Late last year, I stumbled onto (and shortly after purchased) the documentary “The Making of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” the classic Elton John album.  It’s always boggled my mind that coming off an already impressive run of albums, Elton and company (Bernie Taupin’s lyrics, the band, and producer Gus Dudgeon) delivered not just another album of quality work, but a double album of stunning songs that still endure.  In his recollection of making the album, Elton, with utter sincerity, simply says, “It was easy.”

I finally caught Dave Grohl’s documentary on the legendary LA studio “Sound City,” which features a jam with Paul McCartney at the end, and evolves into the song “Cut Me Some Slack.” As the band was calling it a night, someone remarked, “That was easy!”  Sir Paul casually replied, “It always is.”

I think it’s worth noting that both of these prolific artists used the word “easy.”  “Surprise” and “magic” are also terms both these English lads refer to in relating their approach to songwriting.  It’s safe to assume by easy they don’t mean effortless.  But neither, I’m betting, do they mean an agonizing, angst ridden effort.  The approach they describe seems less about bearing down hard and more about getting into a mind/heart/soul place where creativity is able to flow more freely.

In Lewis Hyde’s scholarly book on creativity, “The Gift,” he does a nice job differentiating willpower from imagination:  “For when the will dominates, there is no gap through which grace may enter. . . for an artist, no moment of receptiveness when the engendering images may come forward.”  A great songwriter once told me, “You can’t will a song into being.”  I’ve found that to be absolutely true over the years.  The good ones always seem to come through more of an attitude of discovery, even play (ever wonder why that’s the verb used to describe making music?).  Work is involved, but work that proceeds from a light handed, open minded, unforced endeavor, that seems to allow creativity to flow. . . easily.

Vulnerability is Sexy***

***As long as you’re reading or hearing about vulnerability – yes, it can sound sexy.  Just try Googling “vulnerability and sexy.”  I get it – and I’m grateful to folks like Brené Brown, Seth Godin, Todd Henry, and others have championed the benefits of this undervalued state that invariably accompanies creativity.  Their writings have been great encouragement to me.

But the difference between contemplating vulnerability and being vulnerable is the difference between reading about skydiving versus jumping out of an open airplane door at 13,000 ft.  The warm glow of the idea of vulnerability evaporates in the wake of the actual being vulnerable.  The starkness of the blank page, the risk of a live performance, the unsculpted, uncrafted block of raw marble that is the first stage of creation is often more intimidating than inspiring, more immobilizing than energizing.

At some point in the creative process – whether in the initial blows of the chisel, the long middle stretch of rewrites, or during the final polishing stages before releasing the work – odds are you will experience self doubt or disillusionment.  Even the temptation to chuck it all as self-delusion, not worth another minute of your time or energy is more probable than possible.  Any songwriter, author, or startup entrepreneur familiar with going from nothing to something has had to grapple with these dogged opponents.

Again, watering holes, places we can go for encouragement and support are great.  I’d be lost without them.  The aforementioned authors have pulled me out of a slump more than a few times.  But don’t be surprised when all the great advice and encouragement you’ve taken in completely abandons you.  It’s par for the course.  Again, it’s the difference between the dreaming and the doing.  Scott Belsky drives this home powerfully in his classic book “Making Ideas Happen,” based on Thomas Edison’s famous quote: “Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration.”

The outcome of creative vulnerability can also be wonderful and rewarding – but, again, that’s not vulnerability.  An outcome, by definition, happens once you’ve “come out” of being vulnerable.  Completing work, when you know you’ve dug down and given it your best, can be immensely satisfying.   The endorphin rush of a particularly high risk night onstage, the gratification of knowing you’ve honed an original idea to completion are great pleasures, however fleeting.  My heads up is:  don’t be surprised by the down sides.  The disticntly unglamorous, unsexy vulnerability that accompanies creativity can arouse your every insecurity, dredge up quotes from your harshest critics, heckle and harass you until you render it powerless by simply not giving up.