Ssshh….whisper it….it’s okay not to be perfect

The artist Cezanne painted the same mountain more than 60 times.

Hi there, I haven’t written for a few days, partly because I’ve been doing the Ten Day Writing Challenge http://www.taranicholle.com/writingchallenge/ (of which more later), and partly because I’ve been crazy busy juggling writing, family and work. Recently, I’ve been thinking about all the things that keep me from writing creatively. There are many, of course, and some are excuses. For instance, I often complain I don’t have enough time, but I somehow find the time to mess about on Facebook, watch funny videos of cats on YourTube and…well, you get the picture.

If I’m honest, though, the main thing that holds me back is lack of confidence. Speaking to others, I know I’m not alone in this, so I thought I’d share a few experiences. So here goes. Here are a few of my most common excuses for not writing…

‘But I’m not a writer!’

This is my greatest fear. Psychologists call it ‘imposter syndrome’ – the fear that, whatever you try to be good at, you will eventually be revealed as a fraud. When it comes to writing, it feels inappropriate, even arrogant, to award myself the same title as, say, Dylan Thomas or Shakespeare or JK Rowling. But even the most successful writers go through many drafts and face countless rejections before finding success.

Jane Austen’s early draft of Pride and Prejudice was rejected by a London publisher and left to languish on the author’s desk for a further sixteen years until it was finally published in 1813. JK Rowling’s Harry Potter series was rejected by twelve different publishing houses before becoming an international best-seller.

So just because your work isn’t hitting the best-sellers lists doesn’t mean you are not a writer. What is a writer? Simple. A writer is someone who writes. An artist is someone who makes art. A musician is someone who makes music. If you do any of these things, you qualify. You have earned the title of artist.

‘But anyone could do what I do!’

Here’s one I’m particularly guilty of. Perhaps it’s because of competitive shows like The Voice and the X Factor but it feels like, in order to be an artist, you have to be better than everybody else. Well, here’s a secret: You don’t.

I was never very keen on art at school. (Art lessons, back then, consisted of being sat down opposite a vase of flowers, or something equally dull. Those who could paint a decent vase of flowers were ‘artists’. The rest of us were not). But recently I’ve discovered Celtic art. I love the way the shapes and patterns curl and flow into one another, and drawing them makes me deeply satisfied. I’m not a brilliant artist; I make art because I enjoy it. For a long time, I hid my paintings away. I was frightened that if I showed them to others, they’d dismiss them. I felt like a fraud. What if somebody came up to me and said ‘That’s rubbish! Anyone could do that!’ Or, even worse, ‘My six-year-old child could do that?’

It was the same with my writing. I loved creating poetry but whenever I received another rejection from a literary magazine or was unplaced in a poetry competition, it felt like a slap across the face. I grew deeply jealous of the success of other poets, even to the point of resolving not to write any more. Then I realised how ridiculous I was being. Of course a lot of people could paint or write as well as me if they wanted to! But the fact is that I am doing it. It’s not about seeking others’ approval. It’s the act of creating, of leaving my mark upon the world.

These days, if somebody came up to me and said ‘but I could paint that just as well’ my response would be ‘Brilliant! I’m glad I have inspired you – now go and do it!’ Life is not a competition. You don’t have to be the best, or the best-selling, or the most successful. That’s not what creativity is for.

I was watching a TV programme a while ago about child prodigies. There was a little girl, aged about nine, who was brilliant on the piano. She was amazing, truly gifted. Yet listening to her performances, there was something missing. Yes, technically they were brilliant, but when she played she was totally static, like a machine, with no emotion. When asked after her concert why she liked playing the piano, she answered ‘Because I can win competitions’. She had been gifted with the most amazing ability, yet had failed to see the whole purpose of the music, which is uplift the spirit, to bring yourself and others joy.

‘But I’m not good enough to show people my work yet!’

Here’s another secret: The more you create, the better you will get at it. When I was living in London, I went to visit an exhibition of works by the artist Cézanne, most famous for his painting of the SainteVictoire Mountain. Did you know that he painted that same mountain over 60 times? And that’s just the ones we know about. I wonder how many more potential masterpieces ended up crumpled up in litterbins because their creator wasn’t quite happy with them?

In fact, scientists have come up with the exact formula for how much work you need to put in, in order to become good at something. They determined that it took exactly 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert in any field – be it learning a new language, training for a sport, or mastering a musical instrument. Broken down, that’s around 20 hours a week over 10 years, or about two hours a day. But even if you can’t afford a full two hours (and let’s be honest, who of us can?!), just a few minutes each day will make a big difference.

Whilst we might not all be a Mozart or a Beethoven in the making, it stands to reason that when you start out on a new skill, there’s only one way to go – and that’s up! Of course, there will be pitfalls and disappointments along the way, which brings me to my next objection…

‘I can’t do it – it’s too difficult!’

Well, hmmm, yes. Most things that are worthwhile are difficult. Or, at least, they start off difficult, before they become easier, and then become more difficult again. A few years ago, my husband and I took up archery. We started off in a blaze of enthusiasm, practicing whenever we had the chance. And surprise, surprise, we got better at it! But then after a while, we didn’t seem to be getting better at it any more. Our progress hit a plateau. There were always people better than us, and we couldn’t be as good as them. It just didn’t seem worth the effort, so we stopped.

Writing can be particularly disheartening, because it is a largely solitary activity and the process of trying to get published attracts rejection. So it’s tempting to give up. Sometimes, I hit rock bottom, and have writer’s block, and can’t write another word. But then I remember why I started doing it in the first place. I didn’t start writing because I wanted to be published, or liked, or admired. I started writing because I had to, because I couldn’t imagine doing anything else, because I had a head full of ideas that would explode if they didn’t somehow find some manner of expression. And somehow, just realising this, makes the whole process easier.

‘But I will never be the next JK Rowling/Jane Austen (insert writer of your choice)

Of course you won’t! You were never meant to be! You are you. Nobody else in the world has your exact range of experiences, your insight, your way of expression. You are utterly unique, an individual. Nobody else sees the world through your eyes. So quit trying to be like everybody else, and focus on being the best possible version of you. If it helps, imagine you have just met someone at a party. What questions might they ask you? What stories might you tell? Start with what you know. Tell your stories, as only you know how. They are rich, they are valuable, they are beautiful; they are Yours.

Do you suffer from imposter syndrome? What stops you writing, and what are you doing about it? Write and tell me about it in the comments section below. 

Writing is breathing...

‘For breath is life, so if you breathe well, you will live long on earth’ – Sanskrit proverb

inspire (v.) mid 14th century: ‘enspiren’, ‘to fill (the mind, heart, etc., with grace, etc.);’ also ‘to prompt or induce (someone to do something),’ from Old French enspirer (13c.), from Latin inspirare ‘blow into, breathe upon,’ figuratively ‘inspire, excite, inflame,’ from ‘in-+ spirare’ to breathe (see spirit(n.))  (Online Etymology Dictionary)

“The poem is a machine so simple and so efficient that it only has one moving part, and that made of the most insubstantial material: lightning and breath. ❞ - Charles Olson

BREATHE

Take a deep breath. Now take another. Every day, we take about 26,000 breaths, inhaling something like 14,000 litres of air. Breathing is the most fundamental part of human life, essential to our survival. Most of the time we don’t even think about it. But how we feel and how we breathe are intimately connected.

Have you noticed how, when you’re anxious or afraid, your breath seems to come in quick bursts? This is particularly frustrating for me as a poet and a singer, because when you’re performing, the last thing you want is to run out of breath! At its most extreme, anxiety can even cause us to hyperventilate – when you breathe so fast you exhale more than you inhale, increasing the rate of loss of carbon dioxide. This can be very frightening, causing faintness, tingling of the fingers and toes and, if prolonged, even lead to loss of consciousness. In extreme cases, it feels like you are having a heart attack.

Deep, slow breathing, on the other hand, can be very calming. Often, if I am nervous before a performance, I like to warm up with a slow, gentle song – my favourite are lullabies – because it forces me to breathe more deeply, which helps my whole body to relax.

Of course, the link between breathing and physiology has been known for centuries. In yoga, the breath is Prana or vital force. In yoga practice, we integrate focus on breath during slow movements as well as while maintaining asanas or yoga positions. If we focus on breathing, the control of breathing shifts from brain stem / medulla oblongata to cerebral cortex (evolved part of brain).

Many religions also link breathing and breath with God or the divine spark of creation. In the Bible, God breathed into Adam in order to create him, and the Hebrew word ‘Ruach’- meaning breath– was used as a term for God. In the New Testament, the word for breath, wind and spirit is the same. So when we talk having God’s spirit within us, we are actually breathing in the divine.

You might wonder why, in a blog about writing, I am focusing so much on breathing? Well, writing is breathing. When I write, I am hearing the words on my head as if they are spoken. When I perform, they come to life, living all over again in the ears of those who hear them. Whether consciously or not, whenever I write, I am also taking pauses, breaths. For a poem, this might be a breath at the end of each sentence, or each phrase. If I am angry, this will likely affect the form of the poem. Likewise, if I am feeling very calm, this, too, will become a part of my poem. I can, if I choose, use these pauses for breath to spring a surprise on the reader, perhaps pausing unexpectedly at the end of a line, or serving up a different word when they were expecting a rhyme.

But I think it goes even deeper than that. The life we breathe through our poems becomes a form of dance. The American poet Charles Olson described it as a transfer of energy between writer and reader, like an electric spark a “terrible fire” or “lovely power”. 1

Perhaps a simpler way to look at it is like this: When we create poetry, or a piece of writing, we ‘breathe in’ all sorts of ideas, influences, and images. Perhaps we also breathe in a little of the divine, of magic, of wonder. We are ‘inspired’ (is it any wonder that the word ‘inspire’ comes from the Latin word for ‘to breathe into’?)

But then, once we have breathed in, we have to breathe out again. When we breathe out our poem, it becomes a living thing again, not a fixed thing in our head, ready to be breathed in by others so that they, too, might become inspired to their own creations. And so the cycle goes on….

FOOTNOTE:

1. In his manifesto ‘Projective Verse’ (1950) the American poem Charles Olson proposed a new view of poetic structure based on breath. His ideas, which were taken up by other poets including William Carlos Williams, led to a more naturalistic way of writing, for the ear, rather than the printed page. This is possible, according to Olson, only when the poet reaches “down through the workings of his own throat to that place where breath comes from, where breath has its beginnings, where drama has to come from, where, the coincidence is, all act springs.”

Reading a poem is a transfer of the ‘energy’ of the poet’s breath and speech to the reader. He refers to it variously as being like an electric spark, a “terrible fire” or“lovely power.”