Half-Assing the Artist's Way
Half-Assing the Artist's Way
What if you aren't a blocked artist? But a broke one in the midst of a personal crisis?
When I emerged from my health issues in April and began piecing back together the shards (sharts? hehehe) of my former life, I felt very lost with my writing. My creativity and discipline had plummeted, and the projects I had simmering in the background felt useless, futile. I didn’t know where to even re-enter my vocation. Was it even, still, my vocation? A good friend of mine was completing The Artist’s Way and I admired her dedication to the process. A set plan with rules and homework sounded comforting, after an entire year of no structure. When I found a free copy on a Brooklyn stoop, I took it as a sign. Let Julia Cameron take the wheel, I thought, and guide my way out of artistic constipation.
After twelve weeks of morning pages, artist’s dates, and tasks, my big breakthrough boils down to this: I can write under financial catastrophe and I can write under emotional upheaval, but I cannot write when experiencing both. I wasn’t blocked. I was simply suffering.
Making my way through the book was by no means a waste of time. I’ve been maintaining a journal practice since my 7th birthday, when a classmate gave me a diary with a lock as a present. To add an extra page did feel like pulling teeth most of the time though, and those sentences usually went back to the same thing I already knew: I need more money. I cannot physically find time to write if I spent every waking hour hustling to pay bills. I cannot have the presence of mind to feel at peace and immerse myself in a project if I fear getting evicted. And there’s no way I can do any of that either if I’m depressed and my body is breaking down. Sometimes, it really is the circumstances!
When I first attempted the Artist’s Way in my 20s, the assignment that I most enjoyed and stuck with me was the artist’s date, that weekly blocked off time you use to indulge in an interest, hobby or activity for the mere pleasure of it. One of the many pluses, though, of being an unmarried woman with no kids and a largely independent streak is that my whole life is an Artist Date LOL. I’m being hyperbolic, but only to a point. I already schedule whatever the hell I want to do with my life in any given week because that is the whole point (for me) of foregoing a spouse and refusing to procreate.
It was invigorating to use the artist’s date as an excuse to do something in Lima I had not done before, but another part of me resented it a little bit. I usually love to fly solo in circumstances most people would balk at—restaurant dinners, movie matinees, happy hours at bars. However, I was trying to make friend and start up a social life in a city I had relocated to right around the time I began the program. So I broke the rules. I’ve spent the better part of a decade experiencing art on my own. This time, I wanted to experience it with people.
I picked at a couple of weekly “tasks”, prompts and to-dos that Cameron suggests diving into throughout each week. To be fair, I found several of those helpful because they allowed me to sit down with my thoughts and look towards the future, a skill that has atrophied since the 2020 COVID lockdown. Much to my chagrin. I was an epic planner and though the whole living-in-the-present thing was a sorely needed wake up call, I need a big-picture vision again. I can’t keep YOLOing through life putting out fires. But I digress.
What emerged again and again as I made lists of what I liked, uncovered childhood dreams, analyzed what was lacking and what I feared was that I really missed performing. I downplayed the amount of readings I did throughout my 30s in Chicago because, in many ways, they did not sum up to anything tangible. There’s no collection of essays compiling the hundreds of pages I read at bars nor is there a feel-good story about how an editor heard one of them and set me on a path to literary glory (which did happen to people in the scene like Samantha Irby and Megan Stielstra). While it did give me a writing career of sorts—a network of editors I could pitch to, a writing community I could turn to, certain local infamy—, it also felt ephemeral. During moments of extreme self-criticism, which comes often hahaha, I thought of it as a waste of time. I should have used all those hours to work on a manuscript, damnit! One that sold!
In hindsight, though, that’s when I’ve felt the most satisfied with my work. It’s by far the most fearless version of my literary self. Nothing else has made me as prolific. The instant connection you establish with an audience is intoxicating and life-affirming. As a writer friend told me when I joked that my genre might be oversharing at a bar, he wisely pointed out, “Well, that’s the origin of all this, right? Sitting around a campfire and telling stories?” And it is. That’s how it all began. In many ways, it’s how I began. I birthed myself when I became shameless with my voice.
By the end of the 12 weeks, I was relieved to no longer have to jot down a few thoughts while watching Bravo or lazily skimming the essays Cameron wrote. Honestly, it felt like it was taking time away from my actual writing too. During this awful year, ideas had been bubbling inside me: newsletters topics, an investigative podcast, a family memoir, more essays on Peruvian cuisine, a chapbook, a novel. Three months of introspection after a year of feeling constrained by my circumstances made me restless. Enough with “processing”. I’m ready for action.
Homework
What do you miss doing? What’s preventing you from doing it? Is there a way to do a little bit of it? Another version of it? Even a half-assed version of it?
State of My Wallet
August Invoiced: $3,853.56
August Received: $2,986.66
So much for my estimate that July would be the last lackluster financial month of the year lol. My prediction failed to take into account a check that should have been a direct deposit and is currently making its way from Brooklyn to Chicago, where I am currently visiting. These numbers continue to work for my rentless existence but I sure could use some extra cash to save and pay down debt! The direct deposit debacle should be solved now but I’m crossing my fingers until then.
Progress Report
Translation work keeps on coming, despite all the AI frenzy! Maybe focusing on non-profits was the right move all along? Instead of profit-driven, soulless corporations? I love this for me. Inspired by my half-assed Artist’s Way journey, I booked a poetry reading and non-fiction reading in New York and began my Chicago trip by performing at CHIRP’s First Time show. Electric Lit is open for submissions and I sent some work their way.
According to the ENT doctor, my esophagus is healed and he’s given me clearance to scream-sing at da club.
Finally, I signed up for a creativity coaching session with my friend Sarah Kokernot who writes the This Is All Going Away Substack. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect before our chat. Most creativity coaches I heard about were big on the discipline aspect (“write x words per day!” “what does your schedule look like?”) but Sarah does not give off drill sergeant vibes. It turned out to be such an illuminating and validating conversation. She took into account my rabid desire for external validation (LOL), my multi-genre hunger, and the fact that I was never going to be a writer who spent 6 hours at her desk after work to write more. TL;DR: she worked WITH my personality as opposed to suggesting I become something I’m not. She also picked up on things I had not noticed in myself but made sense—like how devotion and taboo worked in my artistic life. All to say, I'm excited to apply some of her recommendations. Thanks, Sarah!
Shameless Self-Promotion
Chicago! Come to one of the three readings where I’ll be sharing my work:
On Sunday, September 8 at 3 pm I’ll be reading my poetry at StoryStudio’s Student Showcase at the Printers Row Lit Fest! Join us at Necessary & Sufficient Coffee.
On Friday, September 13 at 6:00 pm I’ll be at The Hideout for Funny Ha-Ha. Tickets are $10 and all proceeds benefit Sit Stay Read.
My last show is on Saturday, September 14 at 4:20 pm at Psychotic Break! Come say hi and learn all about why last year was the worst year of my life, via humor! Plus, Cole’s is the kind of Chicago institution I miss dearly whenever I’m somewhere else.
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You are back in Chicago?! For how long?? (Tell me October too 🎃)
Don't tempt me!! 😂