Why am I not making things?
A while back I was helping a coworker do a part of her job that she hates. It’s not that she doesn’t know how, or why it needs to be done, it’s just in her words “it doesn’t make my heart sing.” I love that phrase. What makes your heart sing, what you do because it gives you that little jolt of “yes! this is right!”.
So what makes my heart sing? Making things. That could be sewing, gluing things onto other things, making little creatures from clay and stuff, or even just drawing little doodles of things I want to maybe make someday.
Why am I not in my making room right now?
Because there’s things I should be doing.
Ick. A should. I’m trying to get rid of those. Am I doing any of the shoulds? Hell no. Actually I’m about three layers deep in the avoidance/timewasting category. So if I’m not doing the shoulds, then why am I not doing what makes my heart sing? Why am I doing the type of interwebs wandering that is so boring I have to play solitaire at the same time just to keep myself awake?
Because if I don’t do the shoulds, then my heart doesn’t deserve to sing.
Deserve. That’s a huge gaping pit of blackness. Step away from the edge, it’s too close to bedtime and if I look in there now I’ll have nightmares tonight.
Because it’s late, and I wouldn’t have time to do much of anything before I need to get to sleep.
Ok, that’s valid. It’s true that if pick up anything, I lose all track of time. And I do have work tomorrow, including a three hour meeting. So, one logical reason.
If it’s a logical reason, then there can be a logical solution, right? OK, a plan. When I do go in there, I will set an alarm for whatever many minutes. And put that alarm where I can hear it, but not turn it off without climbing out of the cave of creativity.
Because there’s too many thing I want to make…
Too many things I want to make - that’s good isn’t it? All these ideas and flashes of inspiration. But what if I work on one, build it up from a spark to a true flame and make something of it. All the other little flashes might get lost, either consumed by the one flame, or just washed away in the light of the flame.
But the current plan is even worse. Now the little sparks dance around a bit, and then slowly die for lack of fuel. Working on one at least allows that one to become something more.
Or another way could be that when I feel like this, bubbling over, I need to pull out one of my 542 notebooks or sketchbooks and just scribble them all down, let the sparks scorch the paper so they leave a permanent mark.
…and because I don’t want to work on the things promised to others.
Ah. Some should hidden in what makes my heart sing. It’s hard to shake these shoulds because I did agree to do them.
So why don’t I want to work on these particular projects?
- Because they are not my true heart’s songs - they are someone else’s songs I’ve been asked to record in my style.
- Because in some cases I would rather have said no to the project but felt obligated and now i feel resentful.
- Because I’ve fallen out of love with the concept and if it were up to me it would be abandoned.
- What if it’s not perfectly executed?
- What if it doesn’t meet their vision?
- What if they hate it?
- What if I hate it?
- What if they love it and demand I do more and make me feel all this guilt and should again?
- What if I finish it and they love it and now they want to pay me for it?
And why do I keep agreeing to projects that don’t make my heart sing?
- If someone actually wants to pay me money to make something, how can I say no? I need money.
- Even on the ones I’m not being paid for, someone else bought the materials.
- It’s hugely validating to have someone ask me to make something.
- Some of these are for Mom. Can’t turn her down.
Hmm. I think the hardest part of these self-work posts is trying to come up with a conclusion. I feel like it’s an essay, and I have to be leading up to a conclusion, but I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work. Who’s got the rulebook?