Tuning out

On noise, pressure, and expectations

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This week, I read The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin (the music producer), and I think I may have underlined half the book. Literally. I know I will need to do a slow re-read because there was just so much in there that I wanted to ponder more deeply, but it was one of those instances where the exact right book showed up at the exact right moment when I needed to read it. I can’t even remember where I saw it mentioned, but I’m thankful it found me.

I will mention that the reviews on it are of the “loved it” or “hated it” variety, so it’s apparently a polarizing book. And I get that. This book is a love letter to the pure magic of creativity and living a creative life. (Very different style/voice but in the same spirit as Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert, which I also loved.) It is not a How To Make Money In a Creative Job book. Rubin literally says, “the audience comes last” on the priority list because creativity is about making things that you love, things you’re inspired to create, because that is what brings joy to the process.

It’s also probably not a book for those at the beginning of their writing journey. I feel like this one resonated so much with me because I’ve been in a creative job for a while.

Having said all that, this book spoke to what I most needed to hear right now. Here’s a quote:

“As these voices enter an artist’s head—concern for deadlines, deals, sales, media attention, public image, staff, overhead, growing the audience, keeping the existing fan base—they can undermine our focus. The intention of our art can shift from self-expression to self-sustainment. From creative choices to business decisions.

The key to navigating this phase of an artistic journey is learning to tune out.

…When you’re able to focus purely on creativity and work in a sacred space, everyone benefits. And all other priorities are served.”

—pgs. 253-254, The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin

From self-expression to self-sustainment? OMG, yes. Having our stories read, having readers who love what we write, so much of it is great. But wow, the business of being a writer and trying to make a living at it can eat up so much brain space (and time and energy and health) that there’s little left to give to the actual creative parts.

tune out…

Those words have two meanings for me. One is to tune out the noise of the business pressures (learn how to make TikTok videos! design the perfect Amazon ad! trick the Facebook algorithms! write this because it’s the NEW BIG THING, wait no, that’s over as of yesterday, write this instead! write four books a year! No six! No, one a month or you’ll never get seen!). There’s a lot of noise, y’all.

But the other side is that we need time/space so that we can tune in to those things that provide creative inspiration in the first place. If we’re always at our desks, rushing to meet the next deadline or trying to figure out the newest way to market our books, there’s no time in between to be out there in the world listening, living, watching, and experiencing things that give us story ideas in the first place. Or reading books for fun. Or watching great TV shows or movies without being on our phones, working, at the same time.

I’ve actively worked on the tuning in part over the last few years. (For those of you who know Becca Syme and the Strengthfinders approach, I’m #1 Learner and #2 Input, so I knew taking in information was vital for me and focused on that.) But I have not been good at the tuning out part. I think that’s why the quote above hit me with such impact.

It’s what I needed to hear. Shut out the noise of the business of writing. Create because you’re creative, create because you don’t feel good when you’re not making things, create for you first and worry about the rest later.

I know that’s easier said than done. I also know that some of us can’t ignore the business parts for even a little while because a certain amount of income has to be made. But I hit the point last year where I wasn’t creating anyway. If I’m not creating, there’s nothing to sell in the first place.

So, that’s when my husband and I talked and decided a 6-month sabbatical in early 2022 was the right move. We are lucky enough to be a two-income household and were able to make the necessary adjustments. I finished out my book contract and turned down opportunities to get another for the time being. I spent the second half of last year (after the sabbatical), working on a “for fun” project I’d been tinkering with for two years, which became Good Girl Fail.

But I’ve still found myself in the last few months getting lost in the business noise again, trying to learn indie publishing, trying to figure out marketing. And I can hear the internal warning bells going off again. (Burnout lies ahead! Use caution!)

I’ve learned to listen to those bells.

So, here we are. I’m not currently working on any book. I don’t even have an idea of what I want to write next. My goal right now is creative nourishment—hence this newsletter’s name. I don’t know what that looks like fully yet, but reading The Creative Act gave me a few ideas. I’m going to start with approaching writing as play.

“Oscar Wilde said that some things are too important to take seriously. Art is one of those things. Setting the bar low, especially to get started, frees you to play, explore, and test without attachment to results.

This is not just a path to more supportive thoughts. Active play and experimentation until we’re happily surprised is how the best work reveals itself."

—pg. 78, The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin

I want to be happily surprised again. So, for now, I am not looking for A PROJECT with a capital P. I just want to take in inspiration and mess around with ideas when they come. Because they will come if I feed my brain and give them space to arrive.

Our creativity doesn’t abandon us. We can just be really good at crowding it out into the yard and then blocking the entry door with our clutter. At least, I know I can.

Here’s to opening all the windows and doors and welcoming that muse back in.

Have thoughts? I’d love to hear them.

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