Life is too short to be small. – Benjamin Disraeli
If you’ve only stumbled onto Part 2, I’d recommend taking a quick squiz at 7 Reasons I Shouldn’t Start a Creative Blog (Part 1). By its lonely self, this post will feel lacking and incomplete, like an open-faced sandwich.
Moving right along. Down from 22, I give you the 7 Reasons I shouldn’t start a creative blog, Part 2.
4. IT IS VERY LIKELY I AM A FRAUD
This exercise is already stirring things that have been impatiently asleep within me while I’ve been distracted at the millstone of responsible living in a recovering economy.
However, I’m entirely convinced that everything tremulously bursting within me for light and form and voice has already been more exquisitely sung and sculpted and sonneted by more virtuous and talented wunderkinds.
5. ROUTINE IS A 4-LETTER WORD
I am from stalwart military stock and came out of the womb wearing tailor-fitted bossy pants, so, you’d think I welcome routine.
Alas, there are many sound reasons I did not join the military, chief among which is my unruly white girl fro. Sliding in at a close second is my physiological aversion to routine. Like, woooah my gerd, I loathe routine.
Alarms of any kind savagely grate against the grain of my free spirit like people who “just don’t like tea.” Structuring my “free” time and slipping into the new role of planny-planny, deadline-meeting content creator will resemble the unsightly struggle of trying to keep a bikini on while taking off a wet wetsuit.
But when the world separates the amateurs from the professionals, I know the pack with whom I want to run. And they run on a diet of discipline and punctuality.
Someone once asked Somerset Maughham if he wrote on a schedule or only when struck by inspiration. “I write only when inspiration strikes,” he replied. “Fortunately it strikes every morning at nine o’clock sharp. – Steven Pressfield, The War of Art
Don’t mind me while I pick the wedgie from my newly donned big girl panties.
6. MY MOTHER WILL READ THIS
On one hand, I desperately want you to read this. You filled our childhood meadows with wild things and bear hunts and mice looking for strawberries. You taught us to trace the contours of our imaginations and color outside the lines. Unless we were at Grandpa’s house. Always color inside the lines at Grandpa’s.
In so many ways, this uncultivated space is an homage to you.
On the other hand, your tech prowess now canvases ‘the’ Google, ‘the’ Facebook, and this blog. Sooooo, you’re pretty much the eye of Sauron across my whole life and this venture, which is bound to be awkward chaos wrapped in neuroses wrapped in crispy, belly bacon.
Fear not. We’ll learn to cowboy up together. I’ve got the camp coffee if you bring the leather chaps.
7. I’M STILL AFRAID OF MONSTERS
I’d like to pretend that I’ve already crossed the I-welcome-difficult-feedback-bridge in striking lederhosen (for some reason, in my mind, that bridge is in Austrian backcountry), and actively pursue constructive feedback for all areas of my life.
But I don’t. I know that I know that I K-N-O-W that direct and impartial feedback loops are the most valuable asset I have on this journey to craft mastery, and as a rule, one of the reasons I should start a blog.
But, let’s not lie. It’s also the half-caiman, half-boogie man that might charge me from the swamp of self-loathing and swallow me whole.
Nevertheless, I can only avoid criticism if I choose inaction, and this train has already left the station.
“To avoid criticism say nothing, do nothing, be nothing.” – Aristotle
If you do see me, though, with everglade moss stuck to my face, please gently peel it off and give me a hug.
LANDING THIS PLANE
The headlines will read, “Marketing director finds soul, seen creating beautiful things.”
Or perhaps even, “Marketing director turned starving artist, seen homeless wandering streets with two cuddling kittens in a box.”
It’s of little consequence to me, really, because it no longer reads “Marketing director too afraid to show up to her own life, seen weeping softly on a merry-go-round of complacency.”
I know I’m neither ready nor strong enough for the journey, but it’s put up or shut up hour; run toward the Emerald City or forever away.
To you, good readers, who have made it to the end of yet another list post from the interwebs – whether from the residue of neighboring stars or the embers of utter ruin – I promise you a light show for the ages.
*Share this post with the closet creatives in your life! Let’s not journey alone.
Reading for the over-achievers.
Read more on the importance of feedback loops and debunking the 10,000 hours rule by Maria Popova on Brainpickings.org.