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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Purposively practicing writing

The psychologist Anders Ericsson is famous for studying so-called “expert performers.” From decades of research into how these masters of games, craft, music, athletics and so on, Ericsson hypothesizes that the secret to their success is deliberate practice. I’ve written about deliberate practice obliquely before, as it has much in common with flow. The basic idea is that when learning a new skill, you can pick up the basics pretty quickly, but if you want to really see improvement, you need to be a bit more intentional and systematic about how you practice. For example, if you are taking piano lessons, you would do well to commit to a regimen of rehearsal. The results will be vastly different if your practice involves repeating an exercise or a tune for a set amount of time without regard to how well you do it as compared to if your goal with practicing was to be able to play your piece at the correct speed, three times in a row without a mistake. Ericsson refers to the former method as naïve practice and the latter as deliberate practice.

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Csikszentmihalyi on Creativity, part 1 of n

I’m putting up an abbreviated post this week, as I will be helping facilitate a Jubilee School for the Debt Collective on Thursday evening when I normally would be writing. Fortunately, I have a lot of drafted and semi-drafted material banked up from playing the Feelings Collector last year to work with when there is less time.

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi—author of “Flow” and one of my early guides in this adventure—wrote a book about creativity, which I also read last year. “Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention” had a powerful effect in drawing me toward creativity as my chosen feeling for 2021, but I didn’t annotate it as extensively as “Flow” for a couple of reasons that seem somewhat unimportant now. At any rate, I will likely come back to this text, because there are some very useful chapters based on an extraordinarily rich set of interview data. Many of the conclusions in the book—and indeed the quotes below—are based on the collective insights provided into the creative process by the hundreds of individuals who were interviewed for this study.

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