The Disciplined Creative

I have a talented friend who is a bubbling fountain of possibility. Her creative mind sees opportunities everywhere and whenever I speak to her she’s full of ideas for projects she hopes to pursue and visions she wants to birth through her art. Sadly, none of these ideas have ever been brought to fruition. Why? Because she can’t tear herself away from the magical world of possibility to do the hard work of making her vision tangible in the real world.

Whether we call it brainstorming or inspiration, the giddy initial stage of an idea is an essential part of the creative process. Without those flashes of brilliance our art lacks vision and life. But too many of us find the world of possibilities such a seductive place that we never leave it. It’s easy to see why. In this realm, every idea becomes exactly what we envisioned it would be, all our projects receive accolades, and failure doesn’t exist.

The price of staying in the cocoon of possibility is never having the satisfaction of seeing our ideas spring to life outside of our own imaginations. Our visions may be brilliant but we stay stuck. When this becomes a way of life we become people who are planning to be artistic rather than working creatives. The world of ideas may offer the illusion of safety—a place where we never have to test our brilliance in the marketplace—but in the end it’s deadly. We never grow, never mature, and never get to see our dreams come true. It’s not surprising that many of us who get trapped in possibilities are perfectionists who need outside affirmation. We keep hoping that the next idea will be the one that vaults us into instant success and public adulation. We choose to live in an imagined future rather than a messy present.

Working artists know that the creative life is one that balances vision and action. They know that after the heady idea-generation stage, it’s time to do the cold, hard work of bringing those visions to life. Movies like to show this work as being full of enthusiasm and energy. For most of us, birthing a project is a combination of exhilaration and grueling hard work. Discipline is a word that has fallen out of favor, but it is exactly what we need if we’re to ride through the rough patches and hold on to our optimism when things aren’t going well. We hope, as we work, that the result will perfectly match our original shimmering vision. We hope that it will be appreciated by others. But deep inside we know that worrying about either of these things too much will lead us astray.

Disciplined creatives are pragmatists. They have to be. They keep the schedules they set for themselves. They show up for the work each day. They refuse to give up at the first sign of complication. They accept that art isn’t easy, and neither is it tidy. Some days the work is brilliant. Other days it’s garbage. Most days it’s incremental progress. Disciplined creatives know that dead ends are almost as useful as successful threads because they tell us where we don’t want to go. These creatives learn to listen to the work for direction rather than outside voices. They trust the art, even in those moments when they doubt themselves.

Disciplined creatives also know that not every idea is a winner. This doesn’t stop them from trying. They may have a list of brilliant ideas that never took shape, but the one or two that do work make the failures worth the effort. They prefer success, of course, but they also know that either way, the joy they find in working on their art makes it worthwhile.

Disciplined creatives are also brave enough to share their creations with others. Whether it be family or friends, or releasing it to the wider public, an essential part of creating art is sharing it. I’ve yet to meet a working artist in any discipline who doesn’t quake just a little bit when they subject their art to the judgement of others. Yet we still do it, knowing that the only way to know if the art truly lives is to see if it communicates with others. And we do it because the ultimate goal of any creative project is to take it from inception to realization and eventually to an existence independent of ourselves. In this way we honor the creative fire we’re given by sharing what inspiration gave us through the best we have to offer.

Photo by Xavier von Erlach, courtesy of UpSplash

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Celebrating Heritage: an interview with pianist and composer Connor Chee