It’s been a long time since I’ve been a reliable blogger, but I’m jumping back in with a post that will be the first in a series exploring the horrors (and occasional gleam) of process (as it looks & feels to me).
We hear often, from the experts, that it’s all about the process.
The journey.
The gettin’ there.
Not just writing, but life, too.
This isn’t always easy to swallow.
We want to believe that there’s an endpoint that will make the fear and self-loathing and doubt and effort and second-guessing not just ‘worth it’ but ‘gone’. There’s a self-protective desire to be knocked out for the tough stuff and wake me when it’s over. We want to skip ahead to product. To success. Fame and fortune. The finish line.
Or do we?
What’s occurred to me lately is that if I wish away process, I’m wishing away the better portion of my days.
Better, as in larger.
But also better. As in, more good.
Because really, is there anything more good than getting into the zone — working your way through the fear and self-loathing and doubt and effort and second-guessing, and getting into the zone? Logic disappears, logistics vanish, time suspends, fingers race. And somewhere in the midst of that dreamy, muse-driven floatiness your brain says, "I’m onto something here." That is pretty sweet.
I’m thinking specifically about writing, but really, isn’t there a mama zone and a runner’s zone and a teaching zone and a gardening zone and, well, you get the idea.
Isn’t there?
Which makes me think, "There are no short cuts to the finish line and thank god."
Plus, even those moments (which are many) that don’t qualify for dreamy, muse-driven or floaty, even those all feed who I am and what I do, such that not a single line of poetry or a story idea would have legs or hold water if I hadn’t done what I did to get there.
So, I no longer wish process away.
But I still try to manage it.
Because the arbitrary, unscheduled, unpredictable riskiness of the artistic process is something akin to tightrope walking.
I think.
Although I don’t know for sure, because I’m too scared to try. If you see what I mean.
So, how do I manage process so I can enjoy it a little and not just bite my nails and beg someone to institutionalize me?
More on that tomorrow…
You are right. When we do get in the zone, all those other times when we’re not make it that much sweeter.
Just what I needed to read today – thank you.
Good, Lisa. I’m so glad…
YES, there is a mama zone. I’m looking for it today. Without luck.
Thanks for this. I’m not a writer, but I get it. I totally do.
Jules
7-Imp
Right. It really clicks with me as a mama, too. Hope you find the zone today!
OH, thanks for this post — and I’m really looking forward to more! It’s such a battle to get into the zone. LOADS of anxiety and chocolate consumption, and feeling totally inadequate and dumb. There’s nothing sweeter than breaking through.
Oh, lord, I know. The chocolate. Oi.
When you’re on that tightrope, it’s better not to look down. I bought a copy of Art & Fear, and I’m looking forward to reading it and gaining a bit of insight.
The hardest thing for me is focusing while I’m in wait-mode, if you know what I mean.
Oh, yes. I know what you mean. Wait mode aka purgatory…
Managing process is a tricksy sort of thing.
Um, yeah.
As one who feels highly processed (like cheese Whiz!) as of late, I’m looking forward to your wise posts on how to cope. Or at least tell me which crackers go well with my bad self.
Tee hee…
TadMack says: : )
Oh, Liz! I was just thinking about all of this — over Thanksgiving — about being thankful for the self-doubt and rampant feelings of inadequacy and stupidity even though I feel all of those things so deeply — I wanted to challenge myself to learn how to be grateful not because of but in spite of — but maybe “because of” works too.
Because you’re so right: nothing we have or nothing that shows up in our art would be there without what came before.
GOOD thoughts.
Re: TadMack says: : )
Gratitude for the hard stuff is a huge spiritual exercise, isn’t it????? Life long, maybe. Life long…