Reflections on this year's experiment

Well, as often happens, my “little break" turned into a long break. It has been the better part of a month since I last wrote, though I have certainly been reading and annotating plenty. I lost a bit of steam toward the end of this year, not just with this project, but with my work as well. This is nothing new for me. I noticed this boom and bust cycle several years ago when I started tracking the number of hours each week I spent in “deep work” as I was researching and writing my dissertation. I would start strong, improve week-over-week for a while, tire, flag, and ultimately crash. These cycles have tended to last about six weeks or so, but sometimes after the crash, it takes a while before I have the mental and emotional fortitude to begin again. I do not know whether this is something that I can change or whether it is something I just need to learn to work around. In any event, this year’s temporal pattern of blogging reflects this tendency clearly.

This short note will probably be the final entry of 2021, meaning that I managed to post 32 times, or at a rate of about three in every five weeks. I fell short of the weekly target I set for myself, but that was probably inevitable. In the end, though, I am satisfied with the fact that I managed to more or less keep it going for the whole year.

My goal for next year is to focus on quality over quantity. I still will probably only be able to devote one night a week to reading, annotating, and writing, but I would like to fill the gaps in my day with little bits and pieces to build on during the uninterrupted stretches I carve out for primary drafting and editing. My approach from here on out will be more careful, more considered, and more polished. I want to find joy in all aspects of the process of clarifying the insights I have gained from my reading about flow, creativity, and the good life over the past two years. I want to progress from enjoyment to enthusiasm. Because ultimately what I feel that I am doing here is exactly what is described below:

Train your voice. And use it. Again, it’s one of the most disappointing outcomes in life – to know that you’re a creative person, to have something Important that’s going to burn you up inside if you don’t share it with the world … but to lack the words or the music or the art to do so. In my experience, the unhappiest people in the world are mute creatives. To paraphrase Langston Hughes, sometimes they shrivel. Sometimes they fester. And sometimes they explode.

Every creative person should start a blog to express and develop their art. Do not distribute it. Do not publicize it. Do not play the ego-driven Game of You. Erase it all every six months if that’s what you need to do, because odds are you have nothing interesting to say! But start training your voice NOW, because one day you will.

As I enter yet another uncertain year, one in which I will likely have to make some daunting choices about the direction of my career and my life, the one thing that will be certain is that I can continue to write. At times last year, I shared my work on Twitter. I don’t think I will do this much anymore, if at all. I have often found writing—whether professional or personal—to become nearly impossible when my motivation for doing it involves the desire for recognition.

I am certainly not alone in struggling with this. But, what I’ve learned from revisiting certain key texts in the past month is that doing the work is its own reward. There is no guarantee that your work will be recognized, but you can be sure that if you become fixated on recognition, you won’t do much work at all. And you can be doubly sure that if you don’t do the work, you’ll never develop your ability to express yourself!

Anyway, all that to say: it has been an interesting year. I learned a lot about the material and about myself, and I’m looking forward to taking it further in 2022.

Conscious and Unconscious Thought in the Creative Process

As part of playing the Feelings Collector this year, I read widely about the creative process, which led to developing the Rock Tumbler metaphor. I’m still working out the kinks with the metaphor, but it is a useful image to help remember Graham Wallis’s famous four-stage model of: (1) preparation/saturation, (2) incubation, (3) illumination, and (4) verification/implementation.

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What a difference a year makes

This week I was thinking a lot about how my life was going exactly a year ago. Last October, I was still reeling from the loss of my job and healthcare and dealing with the lingering pain of a particularly hurtful breakup. My identity had been so wrapped up in being an academic that when I was faced with the prospect of what I then perceived to be end of my academic career, I became completely unmoored. I was suffering from nearly constant intrusive and catastrophizing thoughts, daily anxiety attacks, and a general sense of failure. I have struggled with self-esteem issues since I was in middle school, but this was perhaps the most acute period of battling with insecurity that I had yet faced. With the help of my friends and mentors—and let’s be honest, the Pandemic Unemployment Assistance program—I was able to survive this rough patch, but it was some time before I really began to heal.

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I won't be blogging much for the next few weeks

As I prepare to depart for Istanbul, I am putting the majority of my creative energy into annotating the texts that I read over the course of the past year or so. I can’t take everything with me that I want to write about, and there are so many books in my inbox that I haven’t even got to yet! Nevertheless, I expect that this winter will be long, cold, and dark—with a lockdown or two thrown in for good measure—so I want to bank up as many notes as I can before I leave.

Perhaps this is a cop-out, and I’ve gotten lazy with my practice. I sometimes feel this way. But, in the end, what I am really doing is prioritizing other things, such as saying goodbye to all my friends and favorite places here in Philadelphia. There will be more time to write when being out and about is less pleasant. Especially if this year is not a repeat of last year in terms of my mental health, when I sank into a funk that made doing much other than my work—what little I could accomplish even there—nearly impossible. With the help of my nearest and dearest, I pulled through all of that, and with this blog and numerous creative pursuits to show for it.

At any rate, I’ve also decided to spend much less time on Twitter—even going so far as to give control of my password to a friend—and the positive effect on my ability to concentrate is notable. This scares me a little bit, because I do like Twitter, and it can be a useful tool professionally. But I have a tendency to let it absorb every spare moment of my day and to dominate my thinking—what if I tweeted this, or that, would people respond? (And “oh, god damnit” if they don’t!) Not an energy I really need in my life, to be perfectly honest.

So for now, I’m going to keep laying track. This week I conducted my first subject matter expert interview—off the record, for now—for the Da Sheng podcast project, and I’m working my way through annotating one of the most important books that I read in the past year. It feels good to focus and work toward something concrete. I’m going to stick to it for now.

Process > Product

As often happens, when I get excited about a new interest or project, I tend to dive straight into the deep end. Last week’s post about my new podcast project is no exception. I got really into the idea of the whole thing. I was so pleased with the unfolding of a small little kernel of something into a potentially viable pursuit. It started some time ago with a short passage in one book that I then connected to another, which led to the first version of something I wanted to create. That idea then bumped up against the reality of “oh, someone already did this" and also “shit, I don’t really know how to draw.” But, I knew from my creativity gurus that sometimes you just need to wait, but your idea on the back burner, and wait for serendipity to strike with inspiration for the next step (i.e., let the Rock Tumbler turn). And it worked! Soon enough, my desire for something realizable, the hook that I baited and threw out into the lake bobbed and there it was.

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