Success is hard. And we usually think of it as the finishing line, the end of the story. But once they achieve success, many people are surprised to find it brings a whole new set of challenges.
That’s the experience described by ‘Arthur’ (not his real name), the author of a string of popular books, in response to my invitation to tell me about your creative blocks.
Two creative block-ettes (not full on blocks)
1) having a hard time prioritizing projects so end up not working on a really big one. I haven’t written a book in like 4 years!
which leads to
2) having a hard time going deep into new material; find myself retreading old ideas, or at least it feels that way, but the time to venture out and play with new stuff seems to have disappeared.
When I asked Arthur whether it was a case of resting on his laurels versus tackling the next big challenge, he said ‘no’.
Mark I don’t have any sense of resting on my laurels at all! I don’t really feel I’ve accomplished much truth be told, more that I’ve gotten lucky.
When I think about Arthur’s situation, the image that comes to mind is of a mountaineer, having toiled all the way up from the foothills, finally reaching the summit of the largest mountain in an enormous mountain range, and seeing, floating high above him in the distance … another mountain range, far bigger than the one he has just conquered.
For a few moments, the vista is enough. Its stunning beauty is more than ample reward for the trials he has overcome. He has climbed longer and higher, and seen further, then most people ever dream of. What’s not to like?
But after sitting there for a while, contemplating the jagged pinnacles of ice floating serenely above him, an uncomfortable thought occurs to him.
You’re not finished yet.
He tries to ignore it, telling himself he’s already done more than he set out to do, and he’s perfectly happy with that. Anyway, most mountains are pretty similar when you get up close. Once you’ve climbed one, having you climbed them all?
But the longer he sits there, the louder the thought grows.
You’re not finished yet. You’ve hardly started.
Dump the Baggage
If you’re going to climb a mountain, you want to travel as light as possible. You can’t skimp on essential kit, but some baggage you can do without.
For example, it sounds as though you’re giving yourself the worst of both worlds. Firstly, I get the sense that you’re putting a bit of pressure on yourself, based on your past achievements: you’ve done it before, surely you should be able to do it again?
And secondly, you’re not giving yourself credit for the actual achievements. I guess it’s possible that you really did just ‘get lucky’, but somehow I doubt it. Books don’t write themselves, and they certainly don’t sell themselves – you’ve managed to do both, several times.
So supposing you dumped this mental baggage?
Firstly, take the pressure off. Just because you’ve written books before, it doesn’t mean you have to write another one. Not unless you really want to.
Give yourself some credit! You wrote some books that people loved. Many try, but you actually did it. So be glad that you wrote them – and glad you don’t have to write them again. 🙂
Leave the Cardboard You Behind
I remember reading an interview with Seamus Heaney when he said that winning the Nobel Prize for Literature made him feel self-conscious and got in the way of his writing for a while – as if he were being followed around by the public persona of ‘Seamus Heaney’.
It made me think of the life-sized cardboard cutouts of famous authors on display in bookshops – when they meet the author, fans only see the cardboard cutout, and after a while it must affect the writer’s own self-image.
So if you feel you’re being haunted by the ‘cardboard you’, fold it up and stuff it in a bin. Then run away quick before it can see which way you’ve gone…
And Now for Something Completely Different?
Another comment of Heaney’s that has stayed with me is this one about Yeats, whom he regarded as a poetic mentor:
He bothers you with the suggestion that if you have managed to do one kind of poem in your own way, you should cast off that way and face into another area of your experience until you have found a new voice to say that area properly.
(Preoccupations, Seamus Heaney)
Maybe that feeling of “retreading old ideas” is nudging you to make a radical break with your previous work. Maybe you – and your fans – have got so used to seeing you as one kind of author, that you’re neglecting another aspect of your talent?
Ask yourself:
What’s the last thing people expect me to write?
What’s the last thing I expect myself to write?
If I could write like any author, living or dead, who would I pick?
Try a few writing experiments, based on the answers that occur to you. Don’t take them seriously, do them just for fun.
If you’re really stuck, change media altogether – start painting, sculpting, singing or playing the drums. No, you won’t do it well, but you will do it with the beginner’s mind you had when you first started writing.
If one of these experiments piques your interest, and you want to follow it up, go for it. Maybe it will lead to you reinventing yourself as a writer.
Or maybe not. But even if it turns out to be a dead-end, or if you like it but no one else does, it will at least take your writing into a different place. And perhaps that will give you a fresh perspective on your ‘usual stuff’, and fresh enthusiasm for it.
Back in the 80s, avant-garde heavy metal band Celtic Frost shocked their fan base by following up their macabre masterpiece Into the Pandemonium with a new ‘glam metal’ image and a more lightweight and commercial sound on their next album, Cold Lake.
Eventually, the band conceded that the new direction was ill-advised and went back to ploughing their familiar morbid furrow. But if nothing else, the interlude must have confirmed their enthusiasm for writing tracks with titles like ‘A Dying God Coming into Human Flesh’ instead of titles like ‘Seduce Me Tonight’.
Make Space for the New Arrival
When you say you’re “having a hard time prioritizing projects so end up not working on a really big one”, it sounds like a classic case of Resistance – getting lost in the small stuff as a distraction from tackling the big stuff.
Maybe the problem is that you’re not sure what the next big project is going to look like. Or possibly you do have an inkling, but it feels uncomfortable to go there. But neither of these is a reason not to prioritise the project.
When they have a new baby on the way, a couple naturally starts to make preparations, even if they don’t know its sex or personality. They clear out a room for a nursery, buy a cot and start stockpiling clothes and equipment.
If you really want this new book to come into your life, you need to start doing the same. Set aside time for the experimenting and exploring that will lead to its conception. Give yourself permission to achieve absolutely nothing for days or even weeks on end – except devoting time to thinking, scribbling, and waiting for the new arrival to show its face.
As Philip Guston said:
I go to the studio every day because one day I may go and the Angel will be there. What if I don’t go and the Angel comes?
Over to You
Have you ever managed to overcome resistance to to tackling a fresh challenge? If so, how?
Have you ever taken a radically new direction in your work?
Any suggestion for Arthur’s next move?
About the Author: Mark McGuinness is a creative coach with over 15 years’ experience of helping people get past their creative blocks and into the creative zone. To get the rest of the Creative Blocks series delivered to your inbox, make sure you sign up for free updates from Lateral Action.
I love this post Mark. Leave space for the new arrival, a great idea, having a window for new creative projects and ideas.
I find imagining the finished product to be a real driver for me. It happens really naturally. One moment I am writing then the next moment I am imagining holding the book or the screenplay in my hand.
As writers and creatives we are good at imagining, so why not use it as a motivational tool. Although sometimes I imagine the end product with such clarity that I can become passive, imagining that I have already (almost) achieved it.
Geoff Talbot
Blogging and commenting in only Seven Sentences
Thanks Geoff, yes imagining the endpoint can be a great motivator.
I see it has its pitfalls as well. 😉
you really are nothing less than brilliant. truly a great working plan for any successful stuck person – wow! thank you Mark, deep thanks.
My pleasure.
“Successful stuck person” – I like that. 🙂
Resistance in my work is a multi-headed beast.
Sometimes when you hit a plateau, you need to have a picnic. It’s amazing how success can take the fun out of things.
Sometimes you just need to get out of the way (another way to make space for the new arrival).
And sometimes you need to sneak up on really big ideas, kind of like sidling up to a skittish horse. Big, important projects intimidate me like you wouldn’t believe. The only way I’ve found to approach them successfully is to do it when I’m not looking.
Terrific advice, Mark, as always.
Yep, it never feels like that beforehand though. Love the skittish horse analogy. Reminds me of the horse whispering dude.
One part of the process that I never considered in my creative work before, was time you have to wait or practice with no clear result for the right one to come. It always made me nervous and thought I am wasting time. But you mentioned it in a nice way: “Except devoting time to thinking, scribbling, and waiting for the new arrival to show its face.” Accepting this should be as part of the process. It’s value is not less than executing it. Thanks for the article.
Yes, sometimes it’s about showing up and being patient. Not easily done in a world obsessed by return on investment for everything…
I found two aspects of your advice particularly valuable. One was the value of experimenting with new things to do or new ways of doing things rather than restricting oneself to one area or style. Stretching in this way increases ones creative range even in the usual medium.
The other piece that resonated strongly with me was to be patient as the big thing comes together. Give it its time but don’t force it. Instant payoffs are often achieved only at the expense of a lot more dramatic achievement.
Yes, I once went to a workshop with the poet Mark Doty, and he said we’re often in too much of a hurry to ‘get out of the poem’ – i.e. to sign it off as finished, instead of staying with it until we’ve really captured its essence.
Mark:
The Cardboard You brought to mind someone who never seemed to defer to that: Neil Young, who “genre-jumped” throughout his decades long career that continues to this day. All that he’s done is detailed in his Rolling Stone bio: http://bit.ly/jR8tZw. Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam once thanked him for teaching the band to “play in the moment” – which, I suppose, is the opposite of deferring to the Cardbord You.
Young did other things besides play music, like found a school and organize concerts to raise money for various causes.
I once read that he’s is the only person ever to be sued for not being himself. Years ago, his record producer claimed that Young kept changing his style in ways that were inconsistent with what was originally agreed upon. History has shown that all the transformation and growth was a good thing. I suppose we can all learn from that.
Nice post, Mark, as always.
Susan
Ha ha that’s brilliant! I never knew that about him. Love Young’s music – maybe we should ‘do’ him on Lateral Action someday…
Many nuggets here. Thank you.
You point to the “uncomfortableness” that can arise when a big thing is starting emerge. This is a very important feeling to become familiar with. It can be confused with other “discomforts” – like the discomfort of not being big-enough, successful-enough, enough-enough. This kind of uncomfortableness doesn’t come from the big thing that is emerging. It’s a characteristic of the cardboard self. Which is why trying to satisfy, nullify, pacify the discomfort of the cardboard self never works. You can’t really feed cardboard.
On the other hand, learning to sit, open, and breathe as the big thing emerges – that’s worthwhile. Uncomfortable, for sure, but worthwhile. My sense is that the more we open to that emerging thing, the less the cardboard demands capture our attention.
Thanks Eric, totally agree with your distinction between the two different types of uncomfortableness. From the look of your site you have a lot of experience of working with them!
Every time we want to do great work, as the prolific Steven Pressfield says; there will always be resistance.
Resistance the creative hurdle we cross every time we need to create, it’s funny because it doesn’t go away no matter how much you’ve accomplished.
For me, the fact that there are some track records behind me, is the juice I need to overcome the challenge of creating the next big thing.
In other words, I use the success of previous works to serve as a springboard and motivation for the next work.
As Steven Pressfield says; the resistance is there, just believe you can even if the how is still unknown.
Thanks for the Post Mark.
Very good advice. It’s easy to get caught up in the agony of the Next Big Thing, and forget about past achievements, which can be a great confidence-booster when you need it.
Thanks for this, Mark. As I was reading it, I couldn’t help thinking: “this applies to any worthwhile challenge, not just writing”, and I found myself relating to it on several levels, both for myself and my own clients.
Perhaps we don’t allow enough time for “experimenting and exploring”, and certainly don’t give ourselves “permission to achieve absolutely nothing for days or even weeks on end – except devoting time to thinking, scribbling, and waiting for the new arrival to show its face.”
Or perhaps when we do, we see it as procrastination?
Oh yes, it applies to all sorts!
Interesting point re procrastination. I think the trap for me is seeing it as idleness rather than procrastination.
To me, procrastination feels like I’m avoiding something I don’t want to do, even though I know it’s what I need to be getting on with. Whereas taking time out feels more like trying to stop myself doing something (busywork) I almost can’t help doing, even though I know I need the time out more than the busywork. If that makes sense?
Idleness… Yes, that makes perfect sense – I don’t think I was able to even say the word! 😉
I sometimes find myself swinging between idleness (or laziness) and going hammer and tongs to try to catch up for the time I’ve “wasted” being “idle”. But, as you say, it’s often “busywork” that I’m taking time out from, anyway – and taking time out, to get a clearer picture of the way forward, often means the work I would have done is unnecessary anyway!