There are a lot of things to think about when you're navigating a performing arts path. These blog topics will help.
Last week I was walking on Commonwealth Avenue, near Kenmore Square, in Boston. I saw dozens of graduating seniors walking around in their red graduation gowns, likely coming and going from pre-commencement events. I’ve got to admit, the sight made me tear up. I graduated from Boston University thirty-five years ago this month, and wore a similar gown. Not for the first time, I wish I could go back and time and talk to that Julie.
That Julie was beyond thrilled to be getting her degree in communications, and vowed she’d never go back to school again. She was wrong. I’ve got two more degrees, and have taken dozens of classes over the years.
That Julie loved theater, but she was convinced she could never make a life in the arts. She was wrong. I’ve been working in the arts for over thirty years now, though my communications degree has been very helpful.
That Julie also believed the creative writing teacher who told her that her writing didn’t have enough...
Or they wrote. Or they performed. Are they caught up with the rest of their lives because on the other six days they pursue their artistic journey.
When you have an artistic calling, you give up the idea of a forty hour workweek, or five days a week. Particularly since most artists have to work two or three or more jobs to make it all work financially, time off is a luxury. Blocks of time may be more realistic, but even then those blocks are often backfilled with the other parts of your life you’ve neglected. Having nothing to do, and I mean nothing, when was the last time anyone on artistic journey had that time? Even though we all know intellectually that taking time to refuel is critical, that’s a luxury few of us can afford.
We also live in a culture that believes artwork isn’t real work. That somehow, because there’s joy in your work, it isn’t as valuable. That isn’t true, of course. But how often are artists asked to work for free? Or the...
One hundred and sixty-eight hours. That’s all the time we have in a given week. Those hundred and sixty-eight hours have to include sleeping, eating, commuting, working, loving, time with family, social time. It also has to include your artistic practice, all the elements of it.
There is the craft side of your practice. That includes classes, rehearsing, auditioning, writing, editing, creating. There’s the community side of your practice, and that includes going to see other people’s work, participating in community events, reaching out to folks who understand your path. And then there’s the business side of your practice. That can include networking and pitching your work. Or it can include working on a project, using skills that aren’t part of your current Skill set so that requires learning those skills, more time.
Time feels different depending on what you’re doing. Doing your taxes, for example, can make minutes feel like hours. But...
Last weekend I went to a crime fiction conference in Vancouver. I was on one of the panels, which was fun since I love talking about my work. But as with most conferences, the best part was catching up with friends and fellow authors.
Seeing people in person is invaluable. We all manage our social media presence, so the good news abounds. But when you're sitting with someone you get the real scoop. Folks are out of contract, with new proposals out but no news. Others are worried that their series won't get renewed. There are people with good news but they can't share it publicly yet.
Then there are the conversations that are incredibly helpful--did that ad work for you? Where did you get your bookmarks done? Are you doing a blog tour for your next book?
All of these are writing specific, but the value of in person meetings with folks on a similar path are transferable to other artistic fields as well:
Throughout the month I’ve been providing you with some tools to shift your thinking as you move forward on your artistic path.
Today I want you to kick fear and doubt into the back seat, strap on your seatbelt and think about the big dream.
Do you have one? The role you want to play, the venue you want to perform in, the show you want to design, the book or play you want to write, the company you want to open. If your artistic path was without friction--friction being the demands of the rest of your life, the money you need to live, the space time continuum--what would you love to accomplish with your creative work?
If you’re anything like me, the minute you start dreaming the big dream the weights of doubt get wrapped around your ankles and drag you down. They can be big doubts (“Who am I to want to do this?” “I can think of a dozen more...
I’ll never forget a conversation I had with my agent shortly before my first book was published. He said that getting published was the first step in the career. The next step was staying published.
It ends up, that second step is tougher than the first in many ways. But since writing still gives me joy, I persist in moving forward.
But moving forward required more than luck, it requires a plan. The first step in figuring out my plan is to set some long term and short term goals for my artistic path.
For some folks setting goals and figuring out a plan feels too businessy, like that work takes the art out of your practice. With all due respect to those folks, they’re wrong.
Setting long term goals and short term goals, and creating a plan, is the best way to navigate your artistic path. Your plan grounds you. It helps remind you why you’re on your path. It helps you let folks know why you do your work while you claim your creative space.
You can set goals around...
For the purposes of this blog, let me define the difference between pleasure and joy. Pleasure is a short term shot of happiness. Pleasure is being cast in a show, getting a gig booked, reading a good review, seeing an article about your work. Pleasure is a lovely but fleeting thing.
But pleasure isn’t joy.
Joy is the long term, sustained feeling. Joy doesn’t mean that the path is smooth, or that there aren’t bad days. But joy is the underlying feeling that gets you through the rough spots.
Does your artistic work bring you joy?
There may be parts that don’t. In my writing life, getting that first draft done is a challenge. A friend once described it as putting a log through a meat grinder, and she was right. There isn’t pleasure in that first draft.
But there is joy. I know that this is part of the process of writing, and that gives me great joy. So I’d rather be struggling with my first draft than not be a writer.
So, here are my questions this...
I was so delighted to be on The Good Life Coach podcast this week! I'm talking about my journey as a writer, but I also talk about being an artist.
Download Michele's podcast on a regular basis. It is inspirational, thoughtful and full of actions steps.
Last week’s blog post was about “Why Are You Doing Your Work?", with an accompanying worksheet designed to help you drill down on that. Often a creative path requires a hustle that blurs your reason for doing the work in the first place, so figuring out your why is critical.
This week, let’s have a conversation about what you tell folks about your work. You “tell” folks in conversation. But you also tell folks by how you show up in the world.
I remember the first time I made a business card that said “writer” on it. I’d only begun my journey as a writer who wanted to be published. Up until then I loved writing, but didn’t take my talent seriously enough to pursue with intention. That changed almost twenty years ago, and I decided I was going to my first conference to meet other writers and learn. At the last minute I ran out and bought a sheet of business cards I could print out. I put my name and email on it, and added...
Starting this week and going throughout March I am going to be offering a weekly opportunity for you to have a mind shift as an artist. This internal process will clarify your work and your path. It may reboot your passion. Or it may be an opportunity for you to explore shifts in your life to get you back to why you started your journey.
Listen, art work is real work. It takes effort, in unconstrained by 9-5 rules, requires a lot of hustle and the rewards are not always financial. In fact, for most folks I know, the financial aspects of doing the work cause anxiety. We also live in a society (and I'm talking to my US readers here) where art work is not valued.
All of this compounds to add to the suffering artist meme that is easy to buy into.
Artists have a special lens that allows them to see live in technicolor and 3D, with all of the glory, the blemishes, and beauty and the angst in sharp focus. They got that lens by answering the call of the muse, by listening to...
You may feel confident with your craft, or you know how to learn more. But what about the business of show? I've created the Your Ladders 5-Step System to help artists navigate the business of show, Sign up here and get the FREE workbook that will get you started on Step 1, "Setting the Groundwork", The workbook will be sent to you via email.