One of the questions I get at public events about Creative Resilience is what prompted me to write the book? There are really two answers to this question. I think that artists – whether in an academic program or the school of life – can access a lot of resources when it comes to how to use the tools of the trade to make art and on how to view art as a business, a social commentary, or a craft. What is often underemphasized is the creative process itself. How do we as artists find the strengths within ourselves to keep making art in the face of obstacles of creative blocks, failures, various forms of rejection, envy, perfectionism, confidence, etc. etc. I wanted to address this because I have encountered so many people who face these challenges and I wanted to try to offer a space to reflect on and reframe these obstacles in practical ways.

The more complicated answer is that I wrote the book I needed to read. 

As I speak about the book – whether at events or in interviews – I realize that people may perceive me as someone who has it all together.

Except I don’t.

Since the book launched, I have done signings, panels, virtual workshops and have been invited to moderate other arts events. I am organizing more events in the coming months (see what’s coming up). I got a grant to support some of these workshops and the production of an audiobook. I’ve been interviewed for podcasts and blogs. I’ve had friends and strangers tell me how much the book, this blog, or my talks mean to them.

Side by side with these achievements are failures. In just the past two weeks, I got turned down for a grant, a speaking engagement, and a professional opportunity. Worse are the rejections of silence as I have worked to reach out to many bookstores, art schools, and prospective reviewers who have been unresponsive. Increasing the volume of outreach seems like a logical solution to ensure more returns on labor, but my outreach efforts have been limited by the time I can spare in between a job, family caregiving responsibilities, travel, health ups and downs, laundry, and taxes.

Does this sound familiar?

It should because these are all very real challenges that artists face. And they are exactly the kinds of challenges I write about.

Which is why I need to re-read my own words from time to time and work to implement some of what I recommend.

Having a creative block? Go out and experience more art outside of your own realm. Check plus. In the past few weeks, I have enjoyed seeing so much incredible work at Artomatic, one of Washington DC’s biggest annual creative events. I went down to the Full Frame Documentary Film Festival in North Carolina for a few days to be inspired by all things documentary. I tried out a restaurant with creative concoctions I had been wanting to experience. I have participated in workshopping several friends’ works in progress – both games and films.

Facing rejection? Feel sad for a short time and then move on. Keep getting yourself out there. Check. It can be a bit overwhelming when the rejections come in short succession, but I remind myself that nothing ventured is nothing gained. Doors that are closed to us are not necessarily locked. We just may need to keep trying out different keys.

Trying to balance art-making with life? Give yourself grace. Check minus. I am not the most forgiving of myself, especially when life becomes overwhelming. And that invariably extends to my art. But I try.

And that brings me to the challenges of vulnerability. I could be circumspect about my own struggles with the creative process. Afterall, if I literally wrote the book on the topic, I should have it all figured out, right? Not at all. If there is nothing else that you take away from my writings it is that obstacles are not things to be avoided or battled, but rather things to be navigated. Just because I have provided some tips and advice on dealing with creative blocks doesn’t mean I don’t experience them and sometimes get grounded by them. When that series of rejections all came in short succession, I felt dejected and it took me way more than a few days to feel better. Just last week, when I attended a work-in-progress screening of some friends, something in one of the films triggered me and I ended up providing them feedback while simultaneously crying. It was embarrassing at the moment, but I realized afterwards that vulnerability is not something to hide behind a stoic face. An emotional reaction to a piece of art only underscores how art can resonate in so many different ways with different audiences who are bringing their own life experiences to the conversation. It can be uncomfortable, but it’s also a beautiful reminder that art is a reflection of humanity.

By talking and writing in a way that combines general advice with my own experiences with the ups and downs of the process, I hope that some of those who are reading or listening can relate better than if I just offered the general advice alone. My goal has never been to convince anyone I have all the answers, but rather that I can ask certain questions and offer some ideas in the mix. Your ideas may jive with mine or my ideas may encourage you to come up with different ideas. It’s the start of a conversation, not the end.

If you stumbled upon this blog entry on the Internet or got it from someone else forwarding you a link, please consider signing up for Erica Ginsberg’s mailing list so that you will get the next entry in the Creative Resilience series right to your Inbox.