Chicken Teriyaki Bowl #7

I’m reading Chapter 8 of the Artist’s Way and the author says:

Teachers, editors, mentors are often authority figures or parent figures for a young artist.  There is a sacred trust inherent in the bond between teacher and student.  This trust, when violated, has the impact of a parental violation.  What we are talking about here is emotional incest.

I can pinpoint the exact moment I stopped writing.  I was a senior in college and my journalism instructor, a wonderfully strict relic of the glory days of newspaper journalism, told me that I should find a career that didn’t involve writing because I was bad at it.  I’m most likely paraphrasing here, but I’ve nailed the sentiment she expressed. 

I was completely devastated and nearly dropped out of school.  My whole life I’d wanted to be a journalist.  I’d been writing since I was old enough to hold a pencil; seriously, I have a poem I wrote when I still used those huge round pencils on rough brown paper with the blue lines.

About 10 years after that I wrote some fanfic, which received some praise, but quit writing again because I felt it just wasn’t good.  I started and threw away many journals.

You know something?  I no longer care about being “good”.  From the lofty height of my 42 years I look back at that poor 22 year old girl and want to give her a slap upside the head.  “Don’t let one old woman’s opinion stop you!  You’ll show her!”  But I can’t, of course.  So I’ll just show her now, won’t I? 

Well, I’ve been slipping on the morning pages and just thinking about the exercises rather than doing them, but I’ve been amazingly creative and, except for two days, very up and positive.  I’ve been doing my artist dates and journaling regularly.  I’ve been experimenting with different mediums: embossed metals, acrylics, paper boxes.  I’ve been writing poems.

I’m also gearing up for NaNoWriMo.  I’ve been listening to the epic tale Gilgamesh on audiobook and it made me wonder about Shamhat as a person.  Shamhat was the priestess of Ishtar that seduced Enkindu the wild man and turned him from animal to human.  So that is what I am going to write about.

In the upcoming week I have a couple of large projects (meaning paid work) that I need to focus on, so I am going to try and limit my tv time so that I have time to continue creating.

This weekend I want to revisit chapters 5 and 6 of the Artist’s Way and do some of the exercises in my journal, clearing my path for chapter 7.

But it’s all a process, isn’t it?  I’m working through the book at an artificial pace, but that doesn’t mean I can always come back and dip into chapters again when I need them.

This was a tough week for me.  I suspect it was tough as well for the other members of the collective.  Very few have posted on their blogs at all and there are no comments on Creativityist!

My work is really slow right now, which is stressful and causes a lot of guilt when I spend time doing art instead of working.  I find myself hiding my art from my husband, which I know I need to address…

I did morning pages every day, except today.  My artist’s date was another trip to the local dollar stores in town, which was amazing.

I’m still a little lot worried that this burst of creativity will end.  I know I have to just take the leap on faith.  I suppose that it is my Critic talking - being sneakier and lot more subtle about how he sabotages me.

I just noticed.  My Critic is definitely a he.  Interesting.

I am on week 5 of the Artist’s Way.  It started out slow, with a feeling that I wasn’t really making progress.  Yesterday, however, a burst of creativity overwhelmed me.  I actually have two mixed media works in progress and the idea for a third.

I’m a little worried though.  I tend to get these bursts of enthusiasm over something, spend a lot of energy on it and, after a short period of time, burn out and become totally disinterested.  So the question is, is this burst of creativity new or is it the same old thing which will burn away, leaving me a dried husk until the next new thing comes along?

Anyone else experience this or know how I can nurture this flame into a lifelong passion?

I caved.  Each day a little more reading crept in and yesterday I finally succumbed, caught up with all of my blogs, read the news and curled up with a book in the evening.  It felt wonderful!

This week I am eliminating reading from my diet.  No books, magazines, blogs, feeds, friendfeed, websites, or newspapers.  I made a couple of allowances, though.  I had to in order to get work done.  I could look up code and programming info I needed while working on projects.  I could read the Creativityist posts and comments pertaining to the Artist’s Way.  I expanded a bit today to allow myself to read only the most recent post of the people participating in the Artist’s Way Collective.

I made that last exception to see how others were coping with reading deprivation.  For me it has been tough.  I’ve discovered (as if I didn’t already know) that I’m lazy by nature.  Sure, I could spend the time I usually spend reading doing something productive, like painting that wall in the living room where a cabinet stood and the former occupant just painted around it instead of moving the darn thing, so we have a big rectangle of unpainted wall and we’ve lived here for a year and a half.

Let’s see, what have I done instead?  Taken naps.  Gone for long drives to areas of the valley I’ve never been and almost running out of gas out in the wild hinterland, but finding a gas station after 10 miles of gas warning light, to be pleasantly surprised that the price of the gas wasn’t any more than in town.  I’ve written several poems, went out and sketched Union Gap - the actual gap, the one between the hills which gives the town its name.  I finished a pair of socks that have been lying around since last winter, although when I got done I realized that the patterns didn’t match, but no one will really notice, right?

My wool socks

I also came up with a great idea for the novel I’m going to write during NaNoWriMo in November.  It is going to need some research, so I even brainstormed some questions I need answered and that I can research during October.

I also dried pounds and pounds of prunes and hot peppers, did the laundry and kept the kitchen clean on a daily basis.

Reading back, this actually looks like I did a lot, but in the past four days I could have read 3-4 entire books, depending on size and how hard they are.  I also spent a lot of time just staring out of the window.  I wonder if that is the point of this whole exercise.  By regaining the time I usually spend reading I lived life much slower.  I had more time to get things done and didn’t have to rush through my day.  Slow living.

I just finished reading week 4 of the Artist’s Way and am feeling horrified, excited, scared, stupid, squirrelly, and lightheaded.  Why?  Because I’m not supposed to read this week.  Reading deprivation.

Understand, that to do this correctly I must eliminate the following:
Books
Blogs
Google Reader
FriendFeed
Email (except for work emails)
Website browsing

The other caveat is that I cannot replace reading with another piece of “brain candy”, like TV, talk radio, etc.

I can, however, read the Week 4 chapter, write and blog.

One day at a time, right?  And I don’t have to start until tomorrow….

I’ve been spending time this week drawing Zentangle-style mandalas, which I discovered to do from Millande.  In drawing and thinking about them I’ve had an “aha” moment about art and creativity.  It is really hard to describe (I’ve been trying now for 15 minutes), but it hinges on detail and ability and the way an artist sees things differently.  It is also about not worrying about being perfect or right or even what anyone other than myself likes.

It is affecting my everyday life.  I decided to go with my DH to a function with an organization whose members caused me serious anguish almost exactly a year ago.  I’ve been hiding away, embarrassed, ever since, but after working on the exercises this week, I’m actually feeling amusement about the situation and want to have some fun being in their faces.

For my artist date this week I am going to the public library.  I love browsing bookstores and libraries and have only been to the local library once or twice, so I’m looking forward to it.  I especially want to check out their poetry section (which I’m sure will be dismal) and see what kind of big art coffee-table type books they have.

Although I did my morning pages yesterday, I was so busy with work (yes, work that I get paid for!) that I didn’t have a chance to make any art.  No poems, no writing, no art journal pages.  Guess what?  I feel the difference, an actual need to create today.

I’m still busy (with paid work, yay!), but since DH will be out tonight, I’m going to take an easy morning and just create.  Then I can work this afternoon and evening.  Let’s face it, 14 hours of work a day doesn’t make me a happy girl.  Both projects are on schedule Scotty-style.  You know Scotty-style scheduling: triple the time that a project will take you and tell the client that time.  Then get the job done in 1/3 the time and look like a hero.  I’m well into Scotty territory on one job and doing pretty well on the other.

Because I don’t really have crazymakers or poisonous playments (outside of myself at least) this week was centered around doing things.  I wrote several poems and had the courage to actually post on on my blog.  I started an art journal and spent a couple of hours at dollar stores, just browsing around.  There was definitely movement in my creative life this week!

One exercise I didn’t do (I did most of them) was Ten Tiny Changes (#8).  The fact that I kept skipping over that exercise must mean I really need to do it (as well as the follow-ups, 9 & 10).

Morning pages are definitely a part of life now.  I do them first thing - right after putting in my contacts and getting a cup of coffee, although the coffee is generally cold by the time I’m done.  I try not to stop writing until all three pages are done.  I write what ever comes to mind.  One day it was a character sketch for NaNoWriMo that had apparently been simmering in my brain.  On Thursday I wrote out, in detail, a dream I had, which was very strange because as I wrote the dream seemed to return.  Other days the page is just filled with random flying thoughts, completely disconnected.

My morning pages are written on the cheapest copier paper I can buy at Office Depot.  I like paper with no lines and when I’m done I staple them together.  Or, rather, since I ran out of staples and am too lazy to find the box I know is around here somewhere, I’ve been folding over the top left edge a couple times to keep the pages together.  Then I file them away.