The content that follows was originally published on the Darby Pop Publishing website at https://www.darbypop.com/darby-pops-offs/darby-pops-off-creative-anxiety-by-richard-casey/

“Creative Anxiety.” Two words I never thought about putting together, but, to a writer like me, it’s a perfect marriage. Whether working on a script, recording a podcast, or writing an intro to a blog post, those feelings of doubt crop up. What works for me is diving in, like a soldier running through a hail of bullets, until I come out the other side with a first draft to work with. For me the rewrites are easier; starting is my hurdle. But there are other schools of thought. This week we’re joined by Women of Darby Pop and Spotlight on Side-Kicked winning writer Richard Casey as he shares his thoughts on where creative anxiety comes from and how we can overcome it.

If you have a thought on the topic of the week, please join in the discussion on Facebook (facebook.com/DarbyPopPublishing), Twitter (@DarbyPopComics), or in the comments section below.

Until next time,

-Kristine

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You sit in front of your computer like an idiot staring into the sun, the cursor incessantly blinking at you. The page is blank, and as you look deeper into that paper-white abyss, it looks back into you. Soon, your mind is as blank as the page.

Your phone sits just out of reach, the distant message alert whispering sweet distractions into your ear. The cursor blinks. That new PlayStation game you bought begs to be enjoyed. The cursor keeps blinking. The cat walks into the room, mocking you with its ignorant freedom. More blinking from the cursor. Your “to read pile” of comics shifts imperceptibly, just enough to catch your attention. The cursor keeps blinking. You look up the name of the cursor, it has to have a proper name and not knowing it is driving you mad. The Internet claims it’s called a “caret”. The caret keeps blinking.

If you’re reading this and the above is familiar, you already know this is an over-written version of procrastination. When you hear that word, your brain probably plays The Word Association Game and immediately thinks “lazy.” But, there are two kinds of procrastination, and only one of them is a side effect of what doctors call “bone idle-itis.” When it comes to Creatives, diagnosis is easy. Are you a writer? An artist? A sculptor, journalist, blogger, musician or other adjective commonly used by people with “proper” jobs to make fun of you? Are you really? Have you produced things? Do you have ideas beyond vague concepts and nameless characters with catchphrases?

If your answer to any of those questions was “no,” then – sorry – you’re probably nothing more than a poser – a lazy wannabe more interested in the title and the acclaim than the work. Think I’m being harsh? Cool, go prove me wrong. The rest of you? Congratulations – you’re not lazy, you’re just scared. And that’s fine.

Fear is a powerful motivator; it’s gotten us to where we are today as a species (for better or worse). It has kept us from eating poisonous mushrooms or getting bitten by snakes and spiders. Ever fallen off a roof? No? Well then you probably have a perfectly rational fear of heights to thank for that. But as bullies, politicians, and grumpy old men wanting kids to stay off their lawn can attest, fear is also very good at preventing us from doing things like voting for the other party or kicking Oliver Panton in the balls so that he stops insulting you. Fear is the reason you’re struggling to produce that script/song/article/experimental dance piece. Making stuff is scary. If you create something and put it out in the world, people are going to judge it… judge you. And no one likes that. Well… SOME people like that, but that’s another topic for another occasion.

The most important thing to know is that you aren’t alone. Talk to anyone who creates, read interviews with writers, or listen to podcasts about artistic process, and you’ll quickly discover that it’s not just you. That fear you’re feeling is shared by billions the world over, and most of us don’t even know it. Creative Anxiety is such a widespread phenomenon that you have to wonder: are we anxious because we create things or do we create things because we’re anxious? I’m not sure there’s an answer, so I’ll leave that particular chicken or egg scenario to the philosophy students. Because everyone needs validation.

Those of us suffering from anxiety know that the imagined worst-case scenarios summoned up by our brains probably won’t happen. We know that the stubborn self-doubt trying to convince us that our friends don’t really care is laughable. And yet, the anxiety is always in the back of our minds, playing on a loop like vindictive elevator music.

The single biggest problem we face is a lack of definition, both of the things we create and the things we’re afraid of. More often than not, the process of creating something begins as a vague notion; so much so that even you aren’t entirely sure what it’ll be when it’s done. Nothing fills me with more dread than a friend or family member asking me what I’m working on; not because I’m embarrassed by what I’m doing, but because more often than not there’s no real explanation. Complaining to your mates about a PowerPoint presentation you have to put together for work is simple; those words act as a series of verbal shortcuts. Everyone knows what a PowerPoint is, and while they might not understand the specifics of the presentation’s content, they comprehend the concept of a presentation. But the endpoint of any truly creative endeavour is never certain… the project is in a constant state of flux… ideas shift and change… until eventually it makes sense. At least, you hope against hope that it does. And then you have to put that thing out into the world, in front of people you pray will understand what you’re trying to say or do.  After nearly thirty years on this planet, most of them with some form of anxiety or another gnawing at me, I’ve yet to find anything that scares me as much as hitting SEND on an email to an editor.

So what can be done?

The closest I’ve come to a solution is a reality check. We have to remind ourselves that the world doesn’t always suck, and that because of this – by extension – we don’t always suck either. It’s difficult, and the process often feels futile and self-indulgent. But, just the slightest validation can change your worldview.

Start small; prove to yourself that you can do that thing you dread. If you want to write, treat it as a warm up, an inconsequential thing… a rambling stream-of-conscious manifesto about the anxiety of creating something – you know, the kind of thing no one in their right mind would ever read.

From there, it’s all about repetition: a routine, a mantra, a catchphrase, whatever you want to call it, just don’t stop. Start and keep going. Acknowledge the fear. Let it in sometimes; it might teach you something.

Get writing. Get drawing. Get sculpting, playing, blogging, or designing.

In other words – get scared.

 

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