Creative Super Hero: Leaping Over a Tiny Building after a Thousand Bounds

Still, you did it.

Hi! How’s that creating going?

Yeah. I thought so.

Me too. This particular newsletter, for example, has taken me far, far, far too long. You’ll wonder why when you get to the end. It in and of itself is not long or earth-shattering in any way—but getting it on the page … omg. So many revisions, so many drafts, so much staring into space! Still, here it IS! In your inbox. Ta-da! It felt herculean.

My “win” is in delivering on my creative intention, no matter how small, in the face of the howling not-so-picture-book world, whose representative in me—my ole ‘mate Inner Critic—has been howling it up too. Yup, it’s been a cacophony in here.

Maybe in you too?

Here’s how I managed this small but monumental (to me) task. Maybe it’ll help get you back into your creative flow, and you’ll be able to leap over your tiny building, even after far too many bounds.

I didn’t give up, but only after having given up—and several times an hour, some hours.

I took a walk. Beforehand, I was grinding it out, focused and fighting for it, like a REAL superhero, but I then had to walk the dog. Grr. The upside of dog walking is that I was immersed back in the actual universe (versus that other _ _ _ _verse I resort to for breaks more than I should). I was out in a tiny suburban corner of the universe, sure. But there are trees, birds, breezes, clouds and even a mountain view here. And a silly dog sashaying ahead of me encouraging me to look at every shrub.

The down side of dog walking is dealing with… you know, poop. That you have to pick up and carry for a 1/4 mile in a small bag until you get to a trash can. (If you don’t attend to your dog’s poop, that is not very picture book. Just had to insert that aside). It’s no wonder then, that when I returned to my desk, I could see that what I was writing, for all that time sunk, was pure crap.

I was trying to do too much! (My forte). I was inadvertently making an important POINT even though I didn’t realize it. And hidden points pretty much make your face pucker. Which is not what I’m trying to do, even though I did mention dog poop. The whole piece was pedantic and pretty ponderous, even though I tried to lighten it with some very punchy (and funny) metaphors.

So… I pitched it. THAT took some inner muscle, I can tell you.

Really, I just wanted to check in. To sit down with you a sec, to say, “Jeez-Louise, this is hard! Isn't it?” And to encourage you on your creative path, especially now. To say, “Me too—sometimes I’m just inching along, too.” And to say that I think it still counts—we’ll take any and all tiny victories toward a picture book world, because looked at another way, they’re actually huge.

You haven’t been stopped.

Ahh, aren’t we such sensitive souls? Yes, we are.

But.

Let’s not forget, we’re also totally badass.

What’s more badass than working in the unknown, with creativity? And from there, conjuring the picture books, the performances, the meals, the music, the podcasts, the solutions, the rent money, the gardens, the newsletters (heh-heh), et cetera…literally out of thin air, and especially in the face of the howling cacophony of the not-so-picture-book? What’s more badass than having the Houdini-like powers of creativity making you slippery to the clutches of the not-so-picture-book?

Exactly.

Even if it takes a thousand bounds, we know what we’re up to.

Booyah, to all my badass buddies! Keep going!

The dog and I are going for a victory lap now!!