Intentions
This week, I had every intention of writing a new post for the Creative Business Toolbox. And I had every intention of posting a new Five Things list, at the same time I prepared another Five Things list, which would go up a week from now while I was in Beijing.
This week I thought I might create four additional entries, each with a different poem by Hafiz, posted beneath colorful, inspiring images. And I had every intention of scheduling those posts to go up every day next week while I was away.
I had so many intentions, most of which fell through the cracks in the midst of a trip to San Francisco, a busy social calendar, a story deadline, a puppy, a mammogram, and back pain flaring up from a years-old injury, back pain that had me moving at half speed, and needing to stop throughout the day and just sit still.
My intentions, today, will not be met, as I dart around town for adhesive heating pads, electric outlet adapters, coffee (to keep my husband well-stocked), clean shirts, a new journal book, and an acupuncture treatment. Much will not get done that I wanted to get done while I finish packing, finish laundry, finish double checking a list that includes passport, visa, cash, tickets, and packs of Emergen-C.
I’ve run out of time, but not of intentions, and that is why today I have to say: I’ll be back on April 5th.
Gushing
I feel like words are spilling out of me, even when I’m not actually writing. Ideas for stories ~ for their beginnings, their middles, and other one-liners. Anne Carmack wrote a bit about this yesterday, this experience of finding what we need as artists as we go about our day ~ quotes and details and the perfect string of words hidden in piles of laundry, the cereal aisle, and a teetering stack of packages awaiting pick up at the post office.
I’ve already submitted the piece I wrote about here, but only after trying to squeeze and bend and squash it into an essay less than half its original length, the attempt made to explore the possibility of submitting it for a column in the New York Times. I managed to pull a solid, 1600-word story out of the original 4800-word version, but it wasn’t the same, so I decided to let go of the big bold dream of the New York Times (for now) and instead send it to a literary journal. If published, it won’t get the same volume of readership, but it will be read and experienced and felt in its entirety. I am glad I gave it a go, but even more satisfied with the decision to keep it whole. The New York Times isn’t going anywhere, and, as I say, there are plenty of other stories to be told. And the literary journal will feel no less significant, no less worthwhile, that I know with absolute certainty. It’s about getting the work out there, in a way that best serves the work itself, and not my silly little ego.
Today
Two of my latest essays are up! A poetic exploration of what deadlines do (and don’t) mean to me can be found over at the Wish Studio, and the story of my upcoming trip to China just posted at Gypsy Girl’s Guide.
In the Toolbox: Staying Out of Our Own Way
Today’s Creative Business Toolbox topic was inspired by a flash of what felt like divine intervention, an afternoon this week when I sat down to work on a piece of writing that had been in my head for weeks, and proceeded to hammer out a 4800 word story that I’m absolutely crazy about.
Sometimes that happens.
Already my memory of writing this story has taken on legendary proportions ~ when I imagine myself at my computer typing, I see a wild-eyed woman sitting beneath a golden ray of light, acting as a channel for forces far beyond her physical self. I know I’m making that sound very dramatic and movie-magic-ish, but I’m not making it up ~ that is exactly how it feels.
I sent the piece to a friend, a writer, someone I know for certain will always give it to me straight, and when she called me to say, “It’s AMAZING,” my response was, “I KNOW, isn’t it?” Sounds like I think I’m All That, right? But I don’t ~ in situations such as these, in a weird way, I don’t feel like I can take full credit. All I did was turn on a faucet when I sat down at my computer, and after that it just poured out of me. In a weird way, I’m not entirely sure what I had to do with that sudden, miraculous outpouring.
But I don’t want to be all pie in the sky about it, so I’ll propose this: that I’ve been working on my writing for a while now, and I create finished stories multiple times a month for various blogs, books, interviews, and publications. And the story I wrote this week is a story that I’ve been walking around with across the span of a decade (a decade!) This week just happened to the week the spark of inspiration showed up, and, because I was willing to sit down and stay with it, magic happened. So while I do, deep in my gut, feel like this was one of those moments of divine inspiration, I also know that this inspiration would have meant nothing if I had not been willing to meet it halfway. All the work I’ve been doing as a writer got me to this point of my journey; if I hadn’t been doing the work all along, I wouldn’t have made it this far along the path where this astounding gift was waiting for me.
What does this have to do with the idea of Staying Out of Our Own Way? It’s simple: I’ve done a few edits on this piece, and will probably do a few more, but right now my work is to let the piece be. Aside from a word here or a phrase there, I know that if I start over-analyzing this piece and decide I have to work harder to make it “perfect” I will flub it all up. I’m going to do another round of edits this morning, be done with it, and start submitting it next week. Next week!
Here’s the other part of today’s topic at play ~ this piece is searingly honest, frighteningly honest. This is a piece of writing that is likely going to piss people off, inspire others to judge me, and expose some of my weirdest neurosis, feelings, memories, and experiences. If it gets published, I will truly feel like I’m walking around naked. But I also know that because of its honesty it is going to be deeply appreciated. I know women (yes, women) are going to get what I’m talking about. I know deep in my gut these are important experiences to share.
But let me tell you ~ it is terrifying to think of the whole world having access to this story. Terrifying.
Which is another reason I’m going to start submitting it sooner rather than later. I don’t want to chicken out.
Our creative work has a life of its own, and it is our job as artists, writers, and creative entrepreneurs to honor its journey. And this means we have to be mindful of all the ways we might hinder or prevent that from happening. I have to stay out of my own way with this piece of writing, which means I have to avoid over-editing and start submitting it immediately. As for my fears about this? Well they’re just going to have to crawl into the back seat, because right here, right now, they don’t get to have an opinion about anything.
“If we are to understand the human condition, and if we are to accept ourselves in all the complexity, self-doubt, extravagance of feeling, guilt, joy, the slow freeing of the self to its full capacity for action and creation, both as human being and as artist, we have to know all we can about each other, and we have to be willing to go naked.” ~May Sarton
Five Things
2. Christina Dodd ~ Ten Points of Wisdom after Twenty Years of Writing
Creative Business Toolbox
A friend called yesterday to discuss possible ways to approach an opportunity that recently came her way, and one of the resources for information I directed her to was my original Swirly Girl website, which includes a Greeting Card Business FAQ and a Licensing FAQ (click on “Resources” on the site for these.) I haven’t updated the site in a long while, and when I read the tag line for this site ~ Making A Dream Real Since 1995 ~ I was sort of flabbergasted that I’ve managed to pull this off for more than fifteen years.
I thought about giving those resource pages some updates, then thought about creating a monthly newsletter, briefly pondered putting together an e-course, but then decided that all of those ideas involved more work than what needed to be done. I have a great platform right here on this blog, so I hereby declare I have a new category that will get filled with new entries every week: Creative Business Toolbox.
I’ll start by giving a brief overview of my experience as a creative entrepreneur, because my journey hasn’t been altogether linear. I’ve shared, sold, marketed, and licensed a variety of different kinds of work through a variety of different avenues. The one constant: My mission has always been to inspire people. That is the one thread woven through all of the experiences I’ve had, which are outlined ~ in no particular order ~ below.
Here’s what I’ve done:
* Participated in craft shows ~ some outdoor/weekend/holiday type events (think July 4th Art Fairs) and some juried, longer terms co-op type boutiques.
* Built an independent greeting card and stationery business that eventually carried tens of thousands of inventory items, managed more than fifty reps, and shipped up to twenty orders a day. This line was eventually taken over by Recycled Paper Greetings.
* Licensed my work to an array of companies for everything from cards to journals to wall art to an entire line of gifts, furnishings, and other baubles for tween girls. I did this with Swirly and now, to a smaller extent, with my mixed media work.
* Worked with licensing agents ~ who negotiated contracts for me ~ and negotiated many of my own agreements. Which ones were more successful? The ones I negotiated myself.
* Assembled a growing resume for my writing, a pursuit I began in earnest about three years ago.
* Self-published a book.
* Secured a contract for another book with a publisher.
* Contributed to a variety of books written by other authors, and contributed to e-courses by other teachers.
* Taught classes and workshops, organized retreats and gatherings.
* Participated in the National Stationery Show.
* Created a line of greeting cards after Swirly but before I began my mixed media work. How did that line do? It tanked!
* Managed multiple graphic design and website projects ~ many for my own work, some for other clients.
In between all of this I’ve been married twice, moved eleven times, traveled all over the world, and done about five billion loads of laundry. My experience as a creative entrepreneur isn’t so much about a focused, myopic determination to Make It Big as it is about creating my own definition of success and incorporating all areas of my life into that equation ~ home, marriage, family, friends, health, etc.
I don’t share this list to claim that I’m All That or that I have all the answers for whatever questions anyone might have as this category grows (particularly with the wealth of information and resources available at our fingertips these days.) What I can offer here has to do with longevity and experience, and that is why I wanted to start this project with an overview of some of the ways I’ve gotten my work out in the world. I began my work as a professional artist when the world wide web was still a vague idea in most people’s minds, so my name and brand were built slowly (intentionally so), something I now consider to have been a great privilege. These days it is easy to feel like a failure if our “success” isn’t stratospheric. I’m monumentally grateful I was able to grow my business slowly, incrementally, without the additional pressure of things like Twitter updates.
I’ll probably get this party started this week, so stay tuned. There is so much I look forward to sharing, and if there are any specific questions you would like me to address, please let me know in the comments!
Here in Los Angeles
Life is not usually especially quiet around here, and it just hit me how magnificently ironic it is that we have a habit of buying houses and then going to great lengths to make them precisely our own ~ which involves power saws, scaffolding, hammers, nails, and people (so many people!) traipsing in and around everywhere ~ yet our homes are known as the havens. Friends and family stay with us for days and weeks ~ they move in for goodness sakes! I throw out an easy invitation for a last minute dinner party, thinking most everyone will already have made other plans, and within ten minutes our table is full. A small group of friends comes over for a Sunday afternoon powow, and hours later we’re all sitting down to dinner together.
Clearly we must be doing something right ~ somehow we manage to create cozy spaces even if the windows are covered in plastic.
I’m still not sure if I’m an introvert or an extrovert, and I don’t think I’ll ever be entirely convinced I was meant to live such a big, rowdy, social-fueled life. I know that last statement makes it sound like we’re dancing on tables with lampshades on our heads every night (it’s actually only on Tuesdays), but it’s not so much that we’re whooping it up all the time, it’s that my husband and I happen to be incredibly passionate people, each with our own interests (me ~ art, writing, travel; him ~ violin, classical music, cycling), and these passions are very much a part of our day to day lives. I’m always working on one story or another and he practices violin almost every evening. I put on art shows; he is involved with the LA Chamber Orchestra. And in all that his friends and my friends mix and mingle and run into one another, and interwoven through all of it is our family, each with all of their passions and interests. This means my husband and I have seen plays we would have otherwise never heard of. It means we went to a bicycle race this weekend. It means we get great facials.
On top of all this we live in Los Angeles, which is not a city for the faint of heart, the mildly interested, the halfway-motivated. It is a city of movement and appearances and the strange allure of movie magic, not to mention a major international airport. It is only recently that I began to connect the life I’m living with the fact that I live in Los Angeles. I know this seems like a fairly obvious thing to be oblivious to, but once a friend of mine shared this observation with me (when we were each in the middle of moaning and groaning about how intense our lives felt), it stuck with me. There is so much to do in Los Angeles, and so many ways to work and create and share and experience and gather. This is true of most cities, I know, but only now ~ nearly six years into my life here ~ am I beginning to appreciate the peculiar manic-yet-laid-back energy of LA.
I sometimes have vivid imaginings of how serenely beautiful life must be in, say, northern Wisconsin or rural Idaho. I wonder where I might be ten or twenty years from now. I used to think that the minute I had the chance, I would run as fast as I could away from this city. But it is in this city that I have done my best work, fulfilled some of my greatest dreams, and helped create the (growing) family we have. It is here I married my husband; it is here I wrote my books. It is here where some of my dearest friends have created extraordinary, artistically-fueled lives.
It is here where we have created this home, and it here where we have made some of our most extraordinary memories which, if they could each be bottled, would fill every bookshelf and every cabinet, would be tucked under beds and stacked along our staircase, would be dangling from the ceiling and sprouting flowers in our garden. Here. Right here.
Five Things
Five Things is back! I’m still collecting links like a mad woman and all they’re doing at this point is piling up. So here’s the new format: You’ll see the same Five Things image every Friday (although I’m sure I’ll change it out now and then) and I’ll be posting just the links. If I’m posting something it means I love it, so any editorial comments are probably just overload. I mean, really, how many different ways can I say, “Check this out!” or “Head on over here!” or “Isn’t this lovely?”
Right?
1. Twelve South
3. Bumble & Bee
Solitude
{From Living With Books}
{From Eight Hour Day}
{From Bella Wish}
{From Eight Hour Day}
{From Living With Books}
{From Folk and Fable}
{From Eight Hour Day}
“Being solitary is being alone well; being alone luxuriously immersed in doings of your own choice, aware of the fullness of your own presence rather than the absence of others. Because solitude is an achievement.” ~Alice Koller
Somerset Apprentice Spring 2011
Somerset Apprentice Spring 2011 Get a sneak peek into Christine’s studio and some of her favorite creative tools!
