Frustrated Creative
For as long as I can remember, I have been in awe of creators. You will often find my nose stuck in a biography or tuned to a good documentary. I am a sucker for any “How I made it” story and always walk away with a lesson or two for my own life. But mostly, I’ve always walked away frustrated.
If they can make it, why can’t I?
I know that sounds selfish, even a little envious. But it’s true. Every single time I experience someone else’s story of overcoming the odds, turning rags to riches, or just finding lightning in some random bottle, I get this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Why not me?
I was about six or seven years old when an author visited Osuna Elementary School. They were there to read us their latest children’s book. When they concluded their reading, they recalled how the story they read to us was one they had come up with when they were about our age. They encouraged us to write our own stories down, and maybe someday we could be authors, too.
It sent a shock wave through my spine. I went home that night and started writing. I worked, and I worked, and when I had finished, I proudly went downstairs to share what I had written with my parents. Let’s just say, they were less than enthusiastic.
Undeterred, assuming they weren’t authors, I went to school super early the next day to show my work to my teacher. After all, she was a professional. She was friends with the author, and indeed, she would appreciate what I had written. She said, “Oh Steve, this is a good effort, but you’re no writer,” glancing very briefly at what I had been so excited to show her. “Now go play with the other kids on the playground, and I’ll see you when the bell rings.” Shooing me out the door so she could sneak she could put a swig of whiskey into her morning coffee.
Crushed, I walked out of the classroom and tossed the story I was so proud of right into the trash can. Man I’d pay a million dollars to have that back right now. I know it was good - rough - but good.
A creative writing teacher I had my sophomore year seemed to confirm what my other teacher and parents had thought. I was creative, just not a creative writer. At one point, he suggested I even change classes as he "Just didn’t get where I came up with my harebrained stories.” I wish I had some of those back, too.
I have countless stories like this from my life: where I took a keen interest in something, not just writing, and what I produced was met with constant criticism. Oh, how I took rejection personally and saw it as an immediate sign that I should stop whatever I was doing and find something else.
I had no talent, at least none that anyone would care about anyway. At least, that’s what I believed for a very long time.
All I know is sometimes the words, the ideas and the art just explode from my brain like popcorn. And I have to put them somewhere. Mostly in my journal but usually on a sticky note or in the margin of a book - references to thoughts, ideas, and sparks of inspiration that I can make my own and one day share with the world. Sometimes, they manifest into a piece of carved wood, a doodle on the back of a napkin, or a complicated diagram on my whiteboard at home or the office.
Perhaps all of it is an example of forging my own path and “How I made it” story. Or maybe it’s just a bunch of random crap I’ll never finish, do or find time for.
I see the quality of writing on Substack and honestly it intimidates the shit out of me. Why would anyone care about what I have to say? But then I think of proving my teachers, my parents and all my doubters wrong. Their opinion of me or my work is really none of my business. I’d love to shove a copy of my actual book in their face and say, “Jokes on you!” But let’s be honest, that would be rude, and they’d all probably criticize the cover. LOL.
So today, I write this to give you a little glimpse into that young man, that teenager, and this dude who is now older than he’d like to admit. I have not figured it out. I have more self-doubt about my skills and abilities than ever before. But I have something else I didn’t have way back when. I have a don’t give a shit attitude about where I put my creative efforts to work or who cares. I am no longer doing it for them.
It’s freeing to recognize this. Clearly, I’m a slow learner.
I will keep being influenced by the stories that so many share about their journey and how they finally got recognized. I will take the lessons of perseverance and use them. I will recognize I am not the only one who has self-doubt but that they never listened to the external critics (or the internal ones), they never gave up on themselves, and they keep leaning into things that interest them. And they simply showed up and did the work.
Maybe now, at this age, I can really put that most important lesson of all into practice. And take a page from Steve Martin, whose book, Born Standing Up: A Comic’s Life had a really big influence on me - "Be so good they can’t ignore you.”
Now if only this frustrated creative could only figure out what to be good at next.
Ripple On!!!
P.S. What good biographies or documentaries have inspired you over the years? Please share them with me!