Strangled Gasps of Creativity (or Why I’ll Probably Never Be a Published Author)
When I was 10, I was already the proud author of approximately a dozen unpublished novels. By unpublished, I mean, read only by myself- or perhaps by anyone who managed to sneak into my bedroom, haul the stacks of notebooks out from their not so well-hidden hiding place, and decipher my drunken spiderlike scrawl. Most of these novels involved either a. time travel or b. secret passageways leading to alternate universes. These novels were illustrated with floor plans and detailed sketches worthy of the best blindfolded architects suffering from delirium tremens.
I’m still quite proud of those 5 page, single spaced novels.
I had no doubt at all that I’d be a famous writer by the time I was really old, like maybe 17 or 18. In fact, when I was 17, my teacher in a by-invite-only creative writing class in high school wrote on my report card that if I wasn’t a famous writer within 5 years, it would have been because I gave up.
17 + 5 = 22. I should note that I just turned 38, and am probably most famous now for my mop blog. But more about that later.
When I was a kid, I also drew a lot. Not just detailed floor plans, but also tons of Victorian and Edwardian ladies (I was obsessed with the details in the dresses), sheep and odd Celtic swirls that were, surprisingly, not at all influenced by the ‘shrooms that nourished most of my fellow classmates after age 12.
All of my school notebooks were fully illustrated, and I will admit to having spent most of grades 7 through 9 with my headphones on, at the back of the classroom, obsessively drawing . Grade 10 combined art with appalling poetry. Grades 11 and 12 were spent at the Arbutus cafe drinking mediocre coffee that had free refills, writing slightly better poetry and a lot of short stories about Prague, midgets, accordions, Tom Waits. Somehow I graduated in the top 10% of the province, which really doesn’t say much for the levels of scholarship in BC in the early 90s.
I grew up (kinda), I extensively illustrated my university notes, I opted for the ‘creative response’ option for term papers (I once got 105% on an essay I wrote for a Canadian lit class, where I merged Duncan Campbell Scott‘s early Canadian bureaucratic/patriotic romanticism with Thomas King’s awesomely magical realist Green Grass Running Water– a perfect excuse for a poetry/prose mash up if there ever was one), and wrote more novels, still unpublished and unread but slightly better than my earlier ones.
Back in the days before the postal system was declared obsolete and/or uncool, I used to draw the most elaborate designs on envelopes to be sent out to my friends all over the world. I have no idea how the local postmen/women were able to read the intended addresses as those were frequently part of the great, big swirly design. The merging of text and image, the amalgamation off address and swirly thing.
Even when I was co-running that school in Istanbul, all of my memos were elaborately illustrated and my meeting notes were, to say the least, hallucinogenic and possibly quite unprofessional. I remember the head teacher (Hi Claire!) telling me I was totally wasted in that job. Not wasted as in drunk, no, though Istanbul could bring out those tendencies in people caught off-guard.
No, she meant, what the hell are you doing spending half your life buried in an Excel document trying to time table 40+ teachers (with constantly changing class times and courses) and the other half in endless meetings with marketing or with the boss or whoever, quibbling about hungover teachers and complaining students?
Good question, Claire.
I should mention that I am now firmly ensconced in another job that is pretty much the same as that last one in Istanbul, except I don’t have 40+ teachers to time table yet, and I’m herding kids not business executives. I still have to pretend I’m an efficient, serious, responsible grown up though.
My 3 bosses have no idea that I write about mops, have extensively documented the feline invasion of Shanghai, and wrote a novel (unpublished and seen only by 2 other people, thankfully) about the water monster population of Shanghai. Those are from my not-so-secret secret life.
But still, I feel pretty annoyed with myself for shoving the creative part of my brain onto the back burner. It’s November, and I’m not doing Nanowrimo. I started it last year, and gave up half way through. I haven’t drawn anything in ages. I haven’t written anything longer than a mop post in even longer.
Not only did I fail to become a recognized writer by the age of 22 (thanks for the spirit-crushing optimism, Dr Hargreaves), but I’m still floundering at 38.
I was talking with Jackie (of Travels fame) this morning on Twitter about something along these lines. Or rather, along the lines of starting up yet another blog, but this time a blog by Jean Paul Mop, the existentialist thinker mop. Maybe this one would be my path to literary fame. I mean, hell, the Oatmeal got a book deal! Animals Talking in All Caps got a book deal! Hyperbole and a Half got a book deal!
Surely the mops can’t be far behind. Hell, Christine of Almost Fearless was nagging me (er, subtly encouraging me, I mean) to get a Kickstarter fund-raising campaign started for the mops.
Or maybe they are. Far, far behind. I mean, what exactly would I do with, say, 5000 crowd-sourced dollars and 250+ talking mops?
Seriously.
This is as niche as they come.
Or maybe I need to bring back the watermonsters. And the cat invasion. Something, anything that can say I’m not totally boring and domesticated here in Shanghai.
I sometimes wonder if my occasional and brief bouts of creativity will ever go anywhere. Maybe I was just meant to be a teacher who has a weird hobby. Sorry, several weird hobbies.
The cat invasion of Shanghai started last week, after all.
Does anyone else struggle with the (ever-widening) gap between inspiration and actual productivity/application/public reception in the real world?
Is it time to give up hope of ever actually funnelling inspiration into something that could possibly become a career?
Struggle? Hell yes. There aren’t enough hours in the day to do everything I want to do.
Like you, I have a full time job that I’m very good at, yet I wish I could do other things.
I try not to give up hope. I recently had my first published magazine article and I’m hoping that leads to more.
Kristina recently posted..There’s More to Selçuk Turkey Than The Ruins of Ephesus
I sometimes wonder if, contrary to popular mythology, not everyone was meant to follow their bliss/become recognized for their talents/do 100% what they love for a living. I mean, I’ve had a few things published for money (the Dutch article, some Matador stuff, a few local magazines) but I don’t know if I’d want to do it full time. I also seriously doubt anyone wants my mops, full time.
But maybe a balance is possible?
Yep. If creativity was a bowel, mine would be suffering from IBS: sometimes watery, mostly constipated, and particularly sensitive to jalapeños. (Huh? Sorry, I got distracted by a YouTube video while writing that analogy.)
The only reason I finished writing a book is because I’m convinced that I’ll get dementia before age 50 from watching too many pointless YouTube videos. “Baby monkey! Baby monkey! Backwards on a pig, baby monkey!”
What was I talking about?
Oh, yeah. So I wrote the book for my demented future self so that she could remember something cool that once happened to her when she was young and sharp(ish). But now that book #1 is over, I’m back to solids/squirts/solids/squirts/Baby monkey.
Now, where did I put my underpants?
Oh, the imagery! But yes, exactly that.
I think my dementia has already set in…
If you wrote this entire post in the time since we had that conversation on Twitter, that is impressive in itself. You know what I’ve done in that time? Watched about 6 episodes of Sex and the City that I’ve already seen several times before. Although I did also think more about this Jean Paul Mop idea and you know, I think we’re on to something.
I think I am currently suffering from the things you mention here but in a different way — I’m 24, and so mine is more anticipation of things I’m afraid I won’t be able to accomplish. I also had aspirations of becoming famous before I was 22 (why is that the standard “old age” for 12 year old kids? Because you’ve been able to drink for a year? At least in the US?) and now I’m just excited if I can accomplish my to-do list for the day (usually can’t.)
One thing that I found comforting recently was an article that mentioned several famous people who didn’t become famous for what they loved until later in their lives. Made me feel better about all that Sex and the City watchin’. I can’t find it right now but I’ll probably tweet it over to you at some point. In the meantime, get started on that Pinterest account STAT!
Jackie D recently posted..Thoughts: Visiting people rather than places
I did write it in that time. Once I have a notion, I run with it. I’m not one to, er, think things through or edit or whatever. Mostly I go back a edit all the stupid typos I made *after* I hit publish. This may be why I haven’t found fame yet- I’d need to actually sit down and focus on completing one project, not just a million little ones (mops! cats!)
I felt that same pressure as you when I was in my 20s– the idea that I really ought to achieve something impressive (everyone told me I would!) was daunting. It’s a bit easier now that I’m old and cranky and have accidentally achieved more than I’d expected in a lot of areas. Just not the conventional ones (like writing a book that is well received, not widely ignored).
Also, just so you know, I find watching SATCH reruns really inspirational. As in, they clear my mind enough for ideas to run through. Never feel guilty about that- I’m sure it’s a type of recognized meditation.
Here’s to Jean Paul Mop!
Even if they never become more than weird hobbies you at least have the talent to be good at them.
However, as you know, I’m Team Mop.
Yay Team Mop! You’ll be getting that tray full of Long-Time Supporter cocktails when the coffee table book come out!
I love the mop thing — beyond the wonderful social commentary on Chinese life — it’s not grasping at anything. It’s not trying so damn hard to be successful — meaning, there’s no marketing strategy behind it. It’s so quirky it’s impossible to claim that you did it for any other reason than fascination. I find that incredibly refreshing.
Why don’t you just take a two year sabbatical from teaching, try creating something in that time and see how it goes? You can’t know how you’ll do if you’re not putting your work out there, you can’t know if you’ll like it until you try it (truly –> I learned that about freelance travel writing, for me, after 2 years of pitching, it was just not a fit) and if you’re wonder “can I” or “am I good enough”? The answer is, oh shush, you’re awesome and only talented people wonder that. The hacks just jump out in the world like, “wow I am really amazing at this writing thing”! Then everyone rolls their eyes as they get book deals and speaking gigs — because apparently talent is important but brazen self confidence will compensate for a lot. So I guess I’m saying, “be a hack!” oh wait that doesn’t sound right.
You are in the perfect place right now to do this: you’re a little tired of China, you’re not sure what to do next, you need something new. You’ve been saving money, but you’re not sure for what. I’ll tell you what, your subconscious has it all figured out. Italy (or insert dreamy location), a little flat, and two years. You’ll do the Kickstarter and dust off your novels, get out your best pitching shoes and try different things. Maybe it’s magazine writing, or getting a book deal or self publishing. There’s a lot of paths to the same destination (making the art you love and getting paid for it). Maybe it’s a combination of those things. Find a place that’s beautiful and inspires you, go there and go for it.
Christine recently posted..Back to Work, Slackers!
You’re giving me too many ideas… this could be dangerous! 😉 Thanks for being a cheerleader. Appreciated.
What Christine said. Seriously. You dipped your toe in a while ago, but if you get a project started before you go (cheap flat in a cheap town, stability, good safe food,) or get ready to get your project going, you’ll hit the ground running. Then have to change it all a half-dozen times of course. Inspiration is just the beginning, it’s the sweat and commitment to a project that’ll carry things through to the end. And sometimes you need a cheerleader section (like, er, us) to help get you through. Or wine.
And hear hear to questioning one’s path in life! I am in the middle of doing so yet AGAIN and have come to the conclusion that I’m thinking too damned much about the surrounding stuff, and not about the (art)work itself. So I just have to make the work and think about the rest later. But the work comes first.
I too wanted to be a travel writer, did it, found what the market wanted was dry and repetitive. Also, that I don’t like writing, but have to. Have remained as exiled from the ‘artworld’ as from my home country, mainly by refusing to take said artworld half as seriously as it takes itself. Found out I wasn’t a writer by writing a book, badly (a book which I discovered today won’t come out till 6 months later than expected), and am now researching another one?!
This makes no sense, as a life, or as a comment on your blog. But I think you’ll get it.
What the hell. One good aspect of these multi-year projects is they keep me rooted in places that I might otherwise run from screaming (China, anyone?) and sometimes that can be a good thing.
Ebriel recently posted..My Old Man: an unexpected love story
I hear you on all of what you said. I think I ditched the travel writer thing for the same reasons as you- so dry, so repetitive, so doomed to cliche! What excites me are the more personal narratives, where you can hear the writer cursing under their breath, where things can and will turn out not as planned and new plans are dreamed up midway through the old, abandoned ones (and that may be a very good thing).
I think I need actual projects, things whereI can use my scattered bits of inspiration toward a solid end.
The mop coffee table book seems to be a bizarre but oft-suggested possibility. My legacy, the mops!
Yep. Well-written personal narratives rock. Like yours. I got turned on to your writing a while back with your posts about Tuol Sleng.
WTF, I thought, everyone I know needs to realize this! Then sent it off to a bunch of people. Every time I read it I cry a little.
So yeah there are always the usual creative quandries of monetization and placement and the rest, but you know…those can come up afterwards. You’ve already got a great following of people who are fans of your voice because it’s so unique. Once you get more work together as part of a cohesive project, you can ask questions like: where could this fit? Who would like it? Digital or physical or both? Should I pitch to a publisher or DIY?
Ebriel recently posted..America: Freedom for the Few
Many very wise comments above. At the moment I’m doing pretty much exactly what Christine’s suggested and seeing where it goes for me, so if I’m sobbing in a Sicilian gutter in a year’s time I’ll be sure to let you know.
I can’t pretend to offer advice at all, because – hell – I’m in the same boat as you, apart from the fact that my boat is in Sicily rather than China, and my drawing is rubbish. What I can do, however, is cheerlead. You’re more than creative enough to do whatever it is that you decide you want to do, so give it a go and see what happens.
Go team MaryAnne! *waves pompoms*
Katja recently posted..From Expat to Immigrant
I’ll be over in that Sicilian gutter to hand you a nice glass of wine, fear not.
What are you planning? I wish Chinese visas would let me be here without a full time job, but they’re weird and finicky and don’t. Last year’s year of living a bit more freelance was a glitch (my job vanished, but let me keep the work permit) but it gave me a lot more insight into myself– I’m a better, happier, nicer person when i don’t work full time BUT I flounder like mad without structure…
Let’s see what happens in the next few years…
Planning? What is this *planning* of which you speak?
Um – yeah, basically I’m not great without structure, either. I’ve got a novel on the go (as in writing one), but further than that I don’t have a timetable as such. Which is bad, as it means that I go off and get distracted by recipe-writing and researching local history and don’t write the bloody book. Although I have promised Mike a completed first draft by Christmas. Aargh.
Katja recently posted..Legends of Catania
Well, that sounds familiar. Remember that year off I had? Guess who started both the mop blog and Wok With Me Baby that year instead of, well, doing any thing productive? Who has time to write a novel (I’m looking at you, Nanowrimo!) when they have wok tortillas to stretch and mops to stalk?
So will you have a draft ready for Christmas? What’s it about? Fiona of Nanchang Lu offhandedly said, on Twitter, hey, you should just go write an Edwardian graphic novel! And I thought, whoa, maybe one with mops and monsters? Hmmm… If only I wasn’t working for a living in a job that sucks my brain dry… (you know how it can be with education- they end up with the contents of your brains and you get to be a soulless husk).
Will I have a draft ready for Christmas? Put it this way: I would *very much like* to have a draft ready for Christmas. If nothing else it will mean that I can ruin everyone’s festive season by making them read it for me. However, I’ve just worked out that I only have 45 days left, so I’m going to have to up my daily word count to get there.
An Edwardian graphic novel with mops and monsters sounds brilliant. Add in some gin-soaked bears and cats with laser eyes and you’ve almost got a Doctor Who script. WHICH WOULD BE AMAZING.
Katja recently posted..Legends of Catania
You know, I’m starting to wonder if all my disparate, half-assed mini projects (the cats, the mops, Gerald, the water monsters, etc) are indeed all leading toward a future amalgamation/collaboration… I mean, maybe there’s a reason for all of this! Maybe I’m not just easily bored and easily distracted! Maybe, just maybe, these are all just rough drafts and I wasn’t even aware of it!
PS Do I get to read your book?
I’d read a book about mops!
Yes,I totally get where you’re coming from. Sometimes I feel like I like the idea of being a novelist much better than the idea of actually writing a novel, or any book really. I mean- it takes me a full afternoon to struggle and procrastinate and whine my way through a 700 word blog post- how the hell could I sit still long enough to write a book?
Yeah, writing an actual novel is HARD. And it takes so much time! And, like, you have to revise it and revise it, eve, when you’re sick to death of it… it sounds like work, to be honest! Ewwww! (Joking. I think). I do wish I could be someone who HAS WRITTEN a novel, as opposed to actually sitting down and doing the work.
(By the way, my blog post average word count has creeped up to 1500 words somehow, which made your 700 seem like a lovely sprint, a warmer– I must be getting wildly verbose in my old age. Scary. Please tell me when to shut up).
This is ridiculous, but I envy you the playfulness of your approach. I’m grinding painfully to the end of two projects that have consumed me for a decade. And I don’t say “consumed” lightly. I mean I arranged my life around them, and pursued them with the eye-on-the-prize singlemindedness of the pitbull. Woof.
But what happens after that? It’s good to read things like this post, and remember that writing can be fragmented and contradictory, that it can glance off and around and bounce in some new direction. And still be cool, you know? And valuable. Not everything requires 250 000 words (cut down to 106 000) or ten years of monk-like commitment.
Woof! Well done though, lady! Who would have thought back in 1991/92 in the Arbutus writing those stories about Laura Palmer and Belgrade that we’d actually both emerge two decades later with inspiration and creativity still burbling away but in radically different ways. Didn’t you get a book deal? I remember you saying something about that a while ago. When you emerge from your time in the pitbull-monk wilderness, how many great pieces of finished work will you have to throw out there? That is so awesome. I envy you your focus and drive. I have yet to harness any of my own.
It’s funny, isn’t it? Almost novelistic. Of course, if it was a novel we’d have a dark secret which calls us all back to the Arbutus Cafe as adults… forcing us to face that dark night in 1992 when blah blah blah…
Anyway. I honestly believe that people incline to particular forms instinctively. No one would say Alice Munroe should write novels. Or, if they did, they’d be jerks because she inclines to short fiction and we should all just be grateful she exists. Celebrate your fragments because they are cool.
And yeah, the novel’s out next spring. It has a cover! And blurbs! Only now apparently I have to expect folks will read it, which makes me nauseous– another problem with those of us who write secretly and privately for years. It’s a shock to remember that “audience” thing.
I’ll buy your book! I’ll even go home to get you to sign it, just as, um, I signed that mini mural I watercoloured on your bedroom wall at mattress height. I’m sure that’s what will draw all of us back to the Arbutus, 20-odd years later to confront our past demons (etc) and eat fries and gravy.
I would love to add a constructive comment but I don’t have any.
“Write drunk, edit sober”
Maybe this can help. I think it’s from Hemingway.
Personally I write better when I’m in hangover though.
The day you publish your first novel I will send a mop to you. A dirty mop.
Furio recently posted..Who is Furio?
I write best when 1. drunk, 2. really really unhappy, and 3. totally pissed off. All of my best posts (and other writings) come from one or more of those 3. Which makes me think I ought to stop trying for a healthy, happy, sane lifestyle.