Creative Bravery for Writers
When I first start drawing, I remember thinking how there were so many mediums for creation, I wouldn’t ever be able to master them all. Then, the oddest thing happened, as I mastered pencil, I found the second, charcoal, coming to me easier. I had attempted charcoal prior to anything else and it was a giant mess I think I’m still finding in dark corners under my desk. Well, charcoal still makes a giant mess, but the art that comes out of it is haunting and darkly fascinating.
Over 10 years I have experimented with all kinds of mediums beyond pencil and charcoal. Ink, ink painting, watercolor, acrylic paint, and mixed media–even photography, clay and sculpting. Charcoal teaches contrast, pencil teaches shading, ink teaches bravery, colored pencil and adult coloring teaches color theory, paint teaches a tolerance for imperfection, and writing… teaches communication.
For each medium I learn, I grow.
It sounds more straightforward than it is. Learning during the creation of art is painful. You have to learn to accept your mistakes, take criticism, experiment fearlessly–even when that experiment might cost you several cans of paint and primer to cover up. Most importantly, you have to accept the unacceptable by finding within each piece something you can love. This is a key step! You must take a step back and look at your work and find the thing (even a small thing) you like and will carry on to the next project. Quiet your inner critic, find the good, and pay it forward.
Traditional art forms let me give my mental image to the viewer, but writing? This art form requires me to help the viewer understand. Writing creation is clay and pencil. Clay because I can reform the lump of words in front of me over and over, and pencil because I can plot and plan structure then wipe those notes away when the final piece is created.
I spent my day yesterday sitting in my studio transforming an abstract ink technique that I’ve spent months mastering into paint–and onto the wall. The final product is really an unplanned evolution from a general idea about composition to a complex, twisting, woven behemoth I couldn’t possibly reproduce.
I added my portrait (done by a talented friend) and lots of my own chaotic variety of artistic endeavors.
Writing creatively has this quality for me–but only on the first write through. Generally, I capture the emotion and dialogue and description best the first time the words flow from my mind. If I attempt to re-write the scene and convey the same feelings, it never quite has the same depth as the original. If writing creatively were painting then it would be this complex detailed organic pattern. Good luck replicating it.
Editing, though, is finding the best way to weave the gold through those black lines–to brighten, enhance, and improve them for the viewer. To edit is to work your accidental flicks of paint and mis-strokes into the the piece so it the only view who will know about the flaws… will be you.
Writing and art require bravery, but also faith that the final product will be as beautiful to another as it is to the creator.
At some point in the creation of every beautiful thing, the creator hates it–sometimes for a day, a week, or even years. Art has taught me that when this happens, keep right on going through to the other side. Review, reread, revise, and beautify. That’s where the magic happens.
All my love and gratitude,
