I’ve noticed something lately — my phone is ringing more often and my e-mail box is more crowded than in the past few years. Existing clients have more work and new ones are getting in touch. Maybe the economy is picking up steam after all. I have noticed that magazines on the newsstand and at the libraries are thicker these days, so it looks as though more ad revenue is making its way into the industry. More ad pages are always a good sign for someone in the graphic arts — like tree buds in spring; they deliver hope that a dark season is ending.
Since I’m busier these days it’s a good thing that one of my work-related resolutions this year is to be more organized. I am happy to report that the piles of paper I mentioned in my last column are shrinking as I follow some of Lee’s advice. I’ve been more resolute in my determination that most of the paper in my office belongs in the recycle bin instead of on my desk or in my files.
I added another resolution to my list — one, which, in reality, is a resolve that never leaves my list. I have promised for years now to, no matter how busy I am, to take better care of my inner artist.
I like being creative and enjoy crafts and design along with my writing work — so much so that it’s easy for me to keep doing the things I enjoy until I run out of mental or physical steam. We’ve all been there. My resolution this year is to keep from going there so often.
For inspiration and techniques in the proper care and feeding of the inner muse, one of my favorite places to turn is the writings of Julia Cameron, author of “The Artist’s Way.” I found her latest book, “The Sound of Paper: Starting From Scratch,” in the local library. I knew I’d like the book because the first sentence on the back of the book jacket reads, “In order to make art, we must first make an artful life, a life rich enough and diverse enough to give us fuel.”
The book jacket copy on the inside front cover gave me even more confidence that I should take the book home with me, “In The Sound of Paper, Julia Cameron delves deep into the heart of the personal struggles that all artists experience. What can we do when we face our keyboard or canvas with nothing but a cold emptiness? How can we begin to carve out our creation when our vision and drive are clouded by life’s uncertainties? In other words, how can we begin the difficult work of being an artist?”
How indeed? How to begin and how to continue?
Cameron heads up her short chapters with familiar slogans and catch phrases such as Just Do It, Soldiering Through, Taming Time and Easy Does It. Leafing through the book I am at first annoyed and then briefly disturbed by her numerous implicit and overt calls to action. I don’t need action items to add to my to-do list. I want someone to hold my hand and tell me they understand my pain, followed shortly thereafter by a firm suggestion that a cup of hot tea is a nice way to take a short break.
I persist in my reading and gradually I am glad that I have taken the time and set aside my initial negative response. I work my way slowly through the book, not reading sequentially but dipping in here and there as time and attention permit. I find phrases and sentences that stay with me during the hours after I read them. They provoke thought but they also provide comfort when I start to struggle.
The chapter entitled Soldiering Through proves the most useful of all the chapters in the book in my search for ways to nourish my artist spirit. When I am really busy, I feel as though I have to turn out words at a faster pace than my brain can supply. I run dry — forget where the commas go, lose the full range of my vocabulary and work grinds to a halt.
Cameron suggests in the three pages that comprise this chapter that creative droughts are part of the creative cycle but that prolonged drought can leave lasting scars on a person’s life and need to be avoided. She talks about the artist’s need to work even if the quality of the work is poor or even if the work is done without compensation because no one is willing to pay for it.
She recommends a remedy for creative drought that is one part determination and one part relaxation. We must let go of any need that we have to make sure what we produce is perfect.
Without saying it in so many words, she counsels that we benefit if we stop thinking of our busy time as peak factory production. Far more useful is the approach of allowing oneself to incorporate more creativity into what we do. This works for me because rarely do the editors I work with demand I follow set organizational structures or a specific approach to an article.
Toward the end of the chapter is a set of sentences that help me give myself permission to continue to enjoy my work, even if I am struggling with it. I love what I do and it can be like adult playtime if I let it. So, I find myself smiling when I read, “As Carl Jung remarked, creativity is ‘the mind at play with the materials that it loves.’ This is a far cry from ‘production-line creativity.'”
Busy times mean bigger profit margins, and only a few of us are so busy we don’t need the extra work. So, may this year turn out to be a productive — even demanding — one for all of us. In the midst of our busyness, may we find the ability to remain playful and enjoy our work. Perhaps if we enjoy the creative process more we won’t feel the need to turn ourselves into automatons. May we also take the time to read more books like “The Sound of Paper.”
This article was last modified on December 14, 2022
This article was first published on January 28, 2005
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