Writing Down the Bones

Lately, for not much reason at all, I have begun to consider grad school again. I suppose I could pick reasons out of an imaginary hat: after two years in AmeriCorps, I have nearly $10,000 in education money waiting for me to take advantage of it; my husband and a few friends are going back to school; I feel others expect it of me; I feel myself getting older, I can extrapolate to see my wandering, self-absorbed years coming to an end.

Society holds an overriding sentiment that grad school should be functional, tied to promotions and salary renegotiations. I just want to delve into a practice or a field, devour it down to the rind and come out a more well-rounded person.

Lately (read: over the past few days) I have wondered about a program at University of Baltimore called Creative Writing & Publishing Arts. Lately I have renewed my love of writing, my desire to write outside of what I do at work every day.

Yesterday I got out an old book, one that Oli and I read in early high school, if not middle school. It's called Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg, and I still feel like it speaks to the kind of writing practice I value.

I feel this could apply to far more than just writing -- it certainly has for my life:

There was no great answer outside ourselves that would get us an A in school anymore. It was the very beginning of learning to trust my own mind.

Or:

To do writing practice means to deal ultimately with your whole life.

I also appreciate any artist willing to lay out their struggles with practice and motivation. Here, Goldberg compares writing to running:

Like running, the more you [write] , the better you get at it. Some days you don't want to run and you resist every step of the three miles, but you do it anyway. You practice whether you want to or not. You don't wait around for inspiration and a deep desire to run. It'll never happen, especially if you are out of shape and have been avoiding it. But if you run regularly, you train your mind to cut through or ignore your resistance. You just do it. And in the middle of the run, you love it. When you come to the end, you never want to stop. And you stop, hungry for the next time.

Yesterday I went out and bought a new big notebook and filled the first page, even though I hate the first page and I didn't know what to write.

Ebb and flow.

Seeing art spaces, taking in art and music, and generally challenging myself in a community of other artists inspires me to no end. Give me an artist's studio, an empty stage, a karaoke bar, a darkroom...I just want to CREATE.

The problem is, sometimes everyday life doesn't inspire at quite that level. I can easily put off a trip to the BMA, buying tickets to a show, entering my work in a juried exhibition, or setting up a date to play piano and sing with a friend. And by easily, I mean it's easier than challenging myself -- even though I love to challenge myself. And inspiration can be so fleeting, it can slip away so fast that by the time I get home and decide to sit down an act on it...it's gone. Playing World of Warcraft after a long day at work seems SO much easier than looking up exhibitions or putting choir practice on my calendar.

It's so tough to strike that balance, to know when to push and when to sit back and cut myself a break. Because after all, as creative people we feel all the time like we should be divinely inspired, that we should never have to force or cajole ourselves into creating. It's just WHAT WE DO. But it's not. Creating art is a habit, and just like any good habit, it takes some maintenance.

My trouble is, when life gets too busy and stressful, how can I maintain my creativity when it's tough just to get dinner on the table? And if I didn't have any stress or busybusy in my life, would I still find excuses to slack off?

What's next?

Now that my summer voice class is over, I feel a need to keep the creative momentum going, find a new challenge right away. What's next? always seems to be the most difficult hump for me to get over, since having a schedule and/or telling people about my creative work tends to keep me pretty accountable.

A few weeks ago I visited the Load of Fun space on North Avenue for work (lucky me!) and found it totally inspiring. Its graffiti alley out back, black box theater downstairs, and warehouse full of studio spaces crystallized a thought in my mind that we really can do anything with our lives. Photographers' studios made me jealous of all their equipment, giant paintings stirred a little urge to create on canvas again, improv theatre groups' spaces made me want to audition for a musical. There was just SO MUCH, it almost brought tears to my eyes.

Okay, I'm telling this story with a disclaimer that I get a little dramatic sometimes.

But really, experiencing many different art forms (or even just art spaces) keeps my blood flowing. I used to love standing on empty stages before or after rehearsals and just imagining all the performances I'd give in my life. Sometimes the reality -- that I'm not doing those things now -- makes me yearn for a time when I could picture myself as anything I wanted. Truthfully, though, I don't think the best parts of the creative world are out of our reach even if we do have day jobs, bills, and adult responsibilities. It's just a matter of answering the question firmly:

What's next?