Things I Made
Creativity, Work, Play, and my Workshops!
Hello friends,
A while back I was feeling down about my writing, lambasting myself for not having yet finished the book I’ve been working on in a stop-and-start fashion for ages and I did what I do when I feel sunk. I went for a long walk and had a little internal talk with myself. Which was really more of an argument.
The asshole in my head was saying something like, Why haven’t you written your next book, you lazy twit? The wise inner sage hollered back, What the fuck are you talking about, dumbass? I’ve been writing nonstop for YEARS!
(Is anyone surprised that my inner sage likes to curse?)
To prove my inner sage’s point, when I got home I opened up my laptop and created a Word doc titled Things I Made and I wrote a list of all the things I’ve poured my creativity into over the past decade. On the list were numerous essays, short stories, feature-length screenplays, TV scripts, Dear Sugar columns, podcasts, a short documentary film, and portions of what will indeed someday be my next book, among other things. It was a lot of stuff.
Looking at the list calmed me down, but it also got me thinking about how much of my creativity is funneled into work. I love work. I’ve been working like a buzzy worker bee ever since I got my first job as a janitor’s assistant in my high school in McGregor, Minnesota when I was 14 (which I wrote about here). And yet, I wondered if part of the reason I often despair about what I’ve accomplished when it comes to writing is that I have done so much of it with the goal of accomplishing. Of producing. Of cranking it out and delivering. Where was play—that word we most often associate with creativity—and how might I be happier in my work if I let a bit more of it in?
Play is open-ended. It doesn’t have a deadline. It’s about being absorbed in the moment and the task at hand. It’s about discovery and and curiosity and following the path to where it leads. It’s about desire and delight. Mess and mucking around. And when my writing is going well, play becomes my work, the two joined in a mad union that’s both incredibly taxing and terribly fun.
In my writing workshops (I have some coming up and I’ll tell you about them in a minute), I talk a lot about how important a sense of play is to one’s work as a writer, and yet it’s a lesson I’ve had to teach myself over and over again. I’ve had to remember that the things I made don’t just go on the list if I accomplished something by making them. The most meaningful accomplishment is seeing the creative act through to its fullest fruition, regardless of how long it takes to do or what comes of it after the work is done. I believe that with all of my heart, even if I forget it sometimes.
One thing I did recently to inject more play in my creative life was take part in Wendy MacNaughton’s “30-day Drawing Habit” via her truly wonderful newsletter, DrawTogether. In January, each day for thirty days Wendy sent me and the thousands of other participants a drawing prompt. Our “work” (or play) was to draw in response to the prompt for ten minutes, though I often went longer. It was spectacularly fun, even when my drawings didn’t turn out as “good” as I hoped they would. The drawings you see here are some of those I made.
Okay, so here are the workshops I have coming up (and one event). My workshops are open to writers at all levels, from novice to experienced and published writers. They’re generative workshops, meaning I’ll talk a lot about writing and then you’ll be given writing prompts and you’ll write in class, so you’ll go home with some new words and stories and hopefully a lot of inspiration to keep going. I promise it’ll be fun.
I’ll be giving a talk in Frederick, Maryland on Thursday, May 2 at the Weinberg Center for the Arts. Tickets and information can be found here.
On May 3-5 I’ll be teaching at Kripalu in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. The in-person workshop is sold out, but you can sign up for the online workshop, which gives you the option of watching the livestream or watching it later, when you’re sent a recording of the workshop, or both. You can register and read about it here.
July 11-21 on the beautiful island of Patmos, Greece I’m co-leading a story salon with three other amazing humans—Rachel DeWoskin, Zayd Ayers Dohrn, and my dear husband, Brian Lindstrom, whose new documentary, Lost Angel: The Genius of Judee Sill, is just out. (You can watch it here or here, among other places.) We did this workshop nine years ago and it was absolutely magic. You can read more about it and sign up here.
On Oct 4-6 I’ll be teaching at the Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, New York. This is another weekend workshop like the one I’m teaching at Kripalu, with both in-person and online options. If you’re interested in coming in-person, click here. If you’re interested in registering for the online workshop (again, either via the livestream or watching the recording later), click here.
Thank you for subscribing to my newsletter. I love the many wonderful responses I’ve had to my “Tells Us” series featuring authors. There’s another great writer coming up next month. Also, as always, my eternal gratitude to those of you who are paid subscribers and get the Dear Sugar Letter each month.
Wishing you all love in your heart and a sense of play in everything you make.
Yours,
xCheryl
There are two recent-ish episodes of We Can Do Hard Things about play that I listened to this week. They sort of gutted me. And now, reading this, I feel like the universe is trying to tell me something. Life feels like death by a thousand cuts lately, so perhaps I need to take the message seriously and stop being so serious. Thanks for the nudge and being a voice that I need (and love) to hear sometimes. Hugs!!
I have a strong hunch, no, certainty that your inner sage read Mark Twain’s quote: When mad, count 10. When really mad, swear.