I was advised to read "The War of Art" by an acting teacher last year. Maybe he sensed my Resistance (that's right, resistance with a capital "R" people!) to the work we were doing in class or maybe he loved the book so much he just thought everyone should read it. Don't quite remember but what I
do remember is finally buying Steven Pressfield's book, opening it up and then not putting it back down until I'd finished the whole damn thing.
THAT does not happen very often, readers, especially considering how ADD I've become in recent years. First of all, I haven't finished the latest Harry Potter book (shock, horror) because of that bitch called distraction. Second, my "productive" days usually consist of doing a bit of reading, a bit of Facebook, a bit of Twitter and then a bit of acting and writing, all "multi-tasked" into the space of an hour. Hmm. Now I may do A LOT of those hours but something's telling me my method may not be the way to get the most out of my talents. Especially since I cheat myself on how many hours I've logged in on the pure writing.
By golly gosh, it's time to change those nasty habits!
In fact, WOA is
so applicable to my generation of artists, who find it hard to just sit still and DO anything, let alone productive, creative work. See, it's a matter of conquering outside distractions, which, let's face it, we're exposed to more than ever in urban 2009. Our easy addiction to "flashing lights" is just an expression of the inner Resistance that Pressfield talks about, the result of which ain't too pretty, cause suddenly you find yourself miserable and guilty for not meeting the creative deadlines you set yourself. I mean, ask yourself this question- how many hours did you spend thinking up witty comments for your facebook status update instead of tending to your screenplay? Yeah, I know...ooops.
Obviously in this field, ignorance is NOT bliss, so after reading WOA I figured the biggest obstacles I'd whined about were ones I'd created myself. It may all sound rather self-help-y but those of us who have previously turned our noses to
that section of the bookstore are the ones most in need of it. (Will the real Slim Thesy please stand up?)
Lesson learnt:
Practice your craft. A lot. And probably in steady, highly productive chunks. Okaaay, so you can keep the Facebook and Twitter accounts but only stalk your long lost high school sweetheart
after you've written that comedy pilot. Understood? Right.
Bon Voyage to you all! May your creative sailing be smoother, now that you have your WOA book under your arm to help you recognize that crafty little devil called Resistance! Oh, and drumroll please as I introduce Steven himself. Yes, Mr. Pressfield was kind enough to answer three questions that had been swirling around my mind:
1) In "War of Art" you talk a lot about Resistance in terms of it blocking us from creating our art. Any thoughts on how Resistance sabotages us in the "business of show" aspect? E.g. practicing your talent but then doing nothing about making that first call to get an agent or manager.
That is a really good question, Thesy. [Why thank you Steven, blush, blush] I’m not sure I have the answer but I’ll give it a try. My suspicion is that the “business of show” Resistance is a different kind of animal from “Doing Our Art” Resistance. I think it’s a different goddess. Not the Muse. “Doing Our Art” Resistance is, I think, the resistance that we experience toward doing what we were born to do. Our true calling. “Business of Show” Resistance feels different to me. It’s not really what our unique ability is; it’s something we usually have to teach ourselves, train ourselves in.
Certainly it’s a commonplace that the artist herself is the least likely person to be good at selling herself. I’d say only one out of twenty has that gift. Most get embarrassed and tongue-tied; they just hate promoting their own stuff. Screenwriters routinely choke in pitch meetings; painters fall flat when they’re asked to pitch their work to galleries. A lot of the time, the artists who “succeed” are not even the best artists; they’re just better at pitching themselves.
At the same time, I think it’s really an excellent exercise for us as artists to learn how to pitch our material. Why shouldn’t we be good at it? We’ve got the passion. We understand it. I myself am not particularly good at it, but on the occasions when I have succeeded (not too many), what has worked is really being true to myself and speaking from the heart, rather than trying to shape a pitch beforehand and then “deliver” it. So that’s a good thing—to get to that place. But I don’t think the Resistance we feel toward that skill-set is the same as the Resistance we experience toward doing our art.2) Is Resistance largely due to a lack of Time Management? Are artists better served by plotting their day ahead & creating some sort of curriculum for themselves?
Time Management, in my opinion, is a tool we can use to overcome Resistance. That’s what works for me. But I’ve heard of other writers, painters etc. who thrive on chaos and don’t like their day to be structured at all. Resistance in my view is much bigger than managing your time. Did you see that article in the L.A. Times about a year ago, where they interviewed half a dozen writers about where they wrote and how they structured their day. Three out of six said they wrote in their cars! One guy said he wrote while the car was moving! Unless they were putting the reporter on, that’s pretty wild.
I will say that structuring my day and managing my time works for me. But I know it’s not an answer for everybody.
3) In WOA, I was taken by "A Professional Does Not Hesitate To Ask For Help" and the Tiger Woods analogy. What are the main things to look out for in someone who aids and instructs your practice? Is there a fine line between professionalism and neediness/dependence on a teacher?
I’m not a believer in teachers. Okay, a seminar or two, a class to hone your skills. But I’m not a fan to deferring to some guru. It even makes me a little incomfortable answering questions like this because it puts me in the guru role, and I’m not sure it’s even too helpful to someone reading the “answers.” Bottom line: we have to enact our own vision, find our own voice, and be true to our own calling. Each one of us is different. The REAL questions in our work can only be answered by ourselves and our own instincts, by our own Muse.
That said, delegationg of OTHER tasks surrounding our art is a critical skill that free us up and really get us to the next level. Have you ever heard of Dan Sullivan of Strategic Coach? He’s a tremendous mentor to entrepreneurs; you can look him up on the web. One of his concepts is “Unique Ability.” He urges entrepreneurs (which would be us too as artists) to find that thing—and delegate everything else. He tells the story about when he was in the army in Korea and Frank Sinatra came to entertain the troops. “The first thing you notice,” Dan says, “is that Frank Sinatra does not move pianos.” He sings and prepares to sing and that’s it.
So yes, get an agent, get a manager, get a lawyer. Let them use their own Unique Abilities to assist you. Most of us would make pretty lousy agents, lawyers and managers anyway.
But I would NOT delegate any judgment about my real work to a teacher or a guru. In fact I think dependence upon someone whom we imagine knows our own stuff better than we do is a form of Resistance. We ourselves need to embrace that power and make it our own. That’s why I hate those writers groups where everybody reads everybody else’s stuff and then critiques it. What the hell do they know? Who are they to say anything? But maybe that’s just me.
Thanks Steven. And go buy his book. It's mind-blowing. Whatever stage you are at. And whatever art is dying to come out of you.
