Embracing the Creative Process: Overcoming the Fear of Beginning
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Chapter 1: The Challenge of the First Step
Starting a creative project—be it a blank screen, an untouched canvas, or a fresh journal—can feel intimidating.
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Section 1.1: The Art of Embracing Imperfection
In my past, I had a mentor who insisted that to truly become an artist, one must first defile their pristine sketchbook. He suggested tossing it on the floor and trampling it underfoot. "Mess it up," he urged. "Create dents, scuff the cover, and bend it out of shape." His belief was that viewing our creations as sacred stifled our artistic expression. We weren’t crafting sanctuaries for our work; we were pouring our very souls onto the canvas or paper. In his words, we had to eliminate our "darlings" or risk them consuming us.
Similarly, I once knew someone who advocated for deliberately scratching their brand-new car on the first day of ownership. The rationale was to dispel the illusion of specialness and acceptance of inevitable wear and tear. “It’s just a car,” they said. “Get used to it.”
As someone who cherishes beautiful objects, this advice has always been difficult for me to embrace, reinforcing its truth.
Section 1.2: The Weight of Anticipation
In my workspace, a collection of canvases lies unused in one corner, while brushes and palette knives remain unopened on a nearby table. Beneath them are tubes of paint waiting to be unleashed. I have a vision, a plan, yet the prospect of making that initial mark is overshadowed by a fear of failure. The unknown looms large.
Nearby, a block of clay and sculpting tools sit idly, beckoning me to explore my sculptural ideas. The beauty of clay is its forgiving nature, allowing for multiple attempts without consequence.
However, the thought of others watching—my wife, children, or grandchildren—adds pressure that makes experimentation feel daunting.
Chapter 2: The Value of Imperfect Beginnings
Anne Lamott, a brilliant writer, advocates for what she terms "shitty first drafts." She asserts that the only way to progress is to push through the fear of writing something unworthy, worried someone might discover it and judge your capability based on that initial attempt.
Her perspective is that everyone must begin with a flawed draft before moving on to refinement, so there's no barrier to starting—your goal is simply to produce a rough version. This mindset makes the task less intimidating; I can certainly manage a "shitty first draft" without much effort.
The Process of Writing
In the film "Finding Forrester," Sean Connery encourages his young apprentice, played by Rob Brown, to write instinctively rather than analytically. He sets a typewriter in front of him and begins typing to the rhythm of lively jazz. When Brown hesitates, Connery inquires what he’s doing, to which Brown replies, "I’m just thinking." Connery retorts, "No thinking. That comes later. The first step is to write with your heart."
The Wisdom of Letting Go
In "The Matrix," a young monk tells Neo that to manipulate a spoon, one must realize the fundamental truth: there is no spoon. Similarly, the secret to commencing any new project lies in the act of beginning itself. Overthinking is counterproductive.
Writing fosters writing, and painting breeds painting. Focus not on the grand vision, but on the immediate, tangible details. As Lamott suggests, begin with small observations—“She had red hair. It was raining. No one liked the smell of Phil. The body wasn’t even cold.”
With those initial words, you are propelled forward.
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Rod Stewart's "The First Cut Is The Deepest" captures the essence of vulnerability in creativity.
Sheryl Crow's rendition of "The First Cut Is The Deepest" emphasizes the emotional depth of artistic expression.