The scariest thing for a writer to face beyond the blank page, is the sudden discovery that you’re out of discoveries. The well is dry, there’s nothing to draw from, and you have no idea how you’re going to fill it up in time. Because there’s work to be done.
The good thing about living far from work is that I get to call everyone that I neglect during the week. I call Leon at 8:30, my brain fried from overthinking about beverages and ideas. He sounds surprised. I tell him what’s up. He tells me I’m a perfectionist too much of the time, which works like a double edged sword. That’s a fitting metaphor. I can only tackle so much before I have to weigh half-finsihed thoughts against what’s been done. I task to make ‘the best ad ever’ on every assignment. Which isn’t the case. Because there’s no formula for what it is we do. Advertising is just a job, but it’s a fucking weird job. Creating stories and entertainment, trying to work around borders and satisfy clients, a brand, your boss, the plan – and most of all, myself.
I’m not expected to produce brilliance, but I am being paid to try. Thanks Jess. But when brilliance doesn’t strike, I focus so much on my inadequacies and lack of creative juice – the moment turns from bad to worse. Maybe that’s writer’s block. It’s not losing your ability to find the right words, it’s losing the belief you ever had them in the first place.
But I need to stop looking out. I’m off the twitter, taking a facebook recess, and need to quit comparing my own work to that of others. Because that game is endless – a relentless time suck of “I should’ve thought of that” and “How awesome…” and “I’ll never be as good as that.” So what. So fucking what. Play the game. Don’t watch from the sidelines. We all have that innate ability to “create.” Its ridiculous that I’m actually called a “creative.” If you want to get even more twisted, how’s this sentence? I’m a creative creating creative creative.
The point is, and something we tend to forget after living in an office for 15 hours a day (including weekends) is that it’s important to feel “life.” I don’t mind the hours – I enjoy the process and the reward after focusing on something for a while. What I miss is not having the time enjoy a coffee and watch people, go on adventures, get lost for a while and lose myself. Because that’s where the mojo comes from. It’s not out there, on digg or reddit or facebook or funnyordie or wherever your vice is. Point to your chest – because it’s in here. What a cliche, but I need to remember that that’s where my strength is. Looking back…the best things I wrote are things that are so personal and real to me. They are extensions of my history, my self, my own experiences that are translated for everyone else. Words and ideas of mine poured out cleanly and simply you can’t even tell they’re mine. And that’s the most authentic it ever gets.