Elizabeth Gilbert, writer of Eat, Pray, Love, gives a TED talk on her impressions on genius and the creative process.
Gilbert describes herself as a mulish writer--the kind that is mired in the laboriousness of the creative process. The hard worker, the grunt, the slave. Other creative minds she interviewed describe themselves more as vessels--the entities that creativity just magically passes through and imposes itself upon.
I'm neither of those.
My creative process is more likened to a clumsy, self-loathing, utterly obsessed treasure hunter. I'm the bumbling old man in Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, black socks, and Birkenstocks on the beach with his heavy and unreliable metal detector. Or maybe I'm the truffle pig, snuffling around the base of myriad trees until I finally locate the true gem I'm searching for. Creativity does not come naturally to me, nor does it come like a bolt from the blue. I have to sniff it out, believe it's there, fail at finding it, and stubbornly keep looking.
Writing a dissertation is no different.
Every two days or so, I have some sort of "breakthrough." And those "breakthroughs," while exciting, fizzle and melt away into the ooze of fear. What if I'm wrong? What if everyone on my committee thinks my "breakthroughs" are naive, immature, unimaginative?
I feel awkward, heavy-footed, ham-fisted, bull-headed, and dogged. My argument feels delicate and fragile, as though a single touch could disintegrate the whole thing. It doesn't quite exist in its own body yet, and that is terrifying. I'm afraid to handle it for fear of ruining it, but I'm also afraid that not handling it will guarantee it will flit away into the cosmos.
So, here's my plan. I have been recording my thoughts and general observations on notecards and in outlines. Bumbling as I am, I have no other option than to make every attempt to cultivate these little "breakthroughs" into bits of genius, these little well-developed points. But I have to take them one at a time.
3 comments:
Say what you want about your creativity, but your ability to write is something you should never doubt. Being a visual learner, I need the picture painted for me. Usually, printed words are lost on me, my eyes seeing them but with little permanence in the processing of their intentions and meaning. Your words are the perfect paintbrush, making the words morph into images and moving pictures in my brain as I read. Sure, we all have weaknesses. But not everyone can describe them as beautifully as you.
Vik
PS--Write a book. You know I'll be in line to buy a copy. :)
I'm struggling with the same type of feelings and frustration in my musical. I'm finding that I'm really expanding my comfort zone and self-confidence because I'm in unnavigated territory. It has been so long since I really walked completely blind, lost my control over what is going to happen and how I can make it happen, and frankly had to produce by pulling from DOWN DEEP inside of who I am.
It is amazingly terrifying isn't it? But I keep prodding myself with the thought that I'm going to become greater on the other side. August 30 will produce a brand new Christen. The date you dissertation leaves you and becomes the fruit of your labor, that is the day when Amanda becomes a brand new woman! Keep the faith and keep persevering. You are making more than an educational decision, but more importantly, you are discovering your character. And that discovery makes EVERY bit of this chaos worth it.
Vik--thanks so much for your sweet compliment! And as soon as my dissertation is available for public consumption, I'll let you know. :) (I'm not sure at this point if book writing is in my future...graduate school has a nasty habit of sapping the creativity out of a lot of people.)
Christen--you're so sweet! I'm trying to learn to embrace the fear in a way, too. Maybe that's what I'll dedicate my 30s to, lol.
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