Showing Up and Letting Go

I was at an event recently where I found myself talking about how I create art, which is mostly in an intuitive, non-planned way often called “pantsing.” I have tried to outline and I can do it if forced to, under certain circumstances (where I know the characters and the genre well already). It isn’t what I do most of the time, however, and I feel like I don’t produce my best work when pressured to do it on a timeline or under a rubric dictated by others. This may be related to my PDA (persistent demand for autonomy) related to both my abusive childhood and my autism diagnosis, but it is something that I’ve learned to live with and to a degree actually feel has become a positive think to embrace.

I explained to the other artist I was talking to and to the non-artist that I tend to feel my way into my work, whether it is writing or the visual/tactile art I’ve started to create with yarn using a variety of methods. Sometimes I will have a vague idea of what I want the end product to be, an inspiration piece or visual image, but not always. With writing, I sometimes have an idea of what I want the book to feel like or how I want the reader to experience it, but also not always. I often start with an inkling of the character, and then feel my way towards that person by sitting down and writing various scenes or monologues where the character gets to reveal themselves to me. And yes, I’m aware of the problems with this type of writing, including that it can reveal my own prejudices and blind spots. I have learned to be at peace with this.

When I was much younger, I was frequently frustrated by my lack of ability to create what I wanted to create because my skill wasn’t developed enough. I also felt frustrated by the reality that I believed that working hard would produce the results I felt that I somehow “deserved.” I dismissed utterly the idea of “talent” or “gift” and would bristle if anyone suggested that how much of what I had of that mattered. And now? I do believe in talent. I see talent in other writers and it matters a lot to me in whether or not I continue to enjoy their work over the long haul of many years. But it doesn’t matter as much to me because I can’t make my talent more or less. I can only develop skills and me trying “harder” to produce better work usually has the opposite effect. Spending more time writing isn’t very effective.

And so, here I am, at peace with the level of talent I have and at peace with the reality that effortful work is not usually productive. Instead, what I do is show up regularly to participate in the creation, and then let go. I sit down to write almost daily (though not as obsessively as I used to), mostly because the work is harder if I have leave it for many days and forget the feeling I was working toward. I don’t spend hours and hours writing. I spend one hour, or sometimes thirty minutes if that’s all I have. I focus on the work as intensely as I can. And that’s it. I control what I control and let go of the rest.

I feel like this is more and more a description of the rest of my life, as well. Instead of being frustrated about the things I don’t have control over (which are many), I focus on the things I do have control over (which are few, but important). I get to care for and influence my children and grandchildren. I get to write books. I get to wake up early, go for a walk, move my body in ways that feel good, and that’s it. I’m not going to be an Olympic athlete. I am aging and I’m probably never going to see any of my old PR’s (personal records) again. But that doesn’t mean that I give up and do nothing. I do the few things that are in front of me to do. I show up and I let go of more than that. If that sounds defeatist, well, younger me would have agreed with you on that.