Muse and Mischief

 It’s an inevitable question for any creator. Whether written or visual, every artist will at one time (or more) be asked: “Why do you do what you do?” Typically, this is followed with asking how they find their ideas. I am no different. Quite honestly, it’s something I have asked myself from time to time. Often this occurs in particularly rowdy bouts of imposter syndrome, but not during depression though and I guess within that lies my answer. 

I am not sure if it is the same for other artists, but for me creating allows me to feel incredible highs and lows within the safety of art. When I was younger, I would channel emotions into paintings and sketches or poorly written poetry. Cathartic at the time, when I return to those pieces I cannot begin to fathom what thoughts were going through my mind during their creation. However, the emotions I felt never fail to return in glimmers of what was before. 

Now that I am older, I have a firmer grasp on my creative nature and no longer rely on the peaks and valleys of the emotional spectrum for inspiration. Instead, I seek inspiration from the life and world around me. Any tiny little thing can spark that burning need to create. I got the kernel of an idea that became my novella Please Exit Through the Gift Shop from the tail end of a trip to the local aquarium while my son scoured the shelves in the gift shop before we left. My work has matured with me. Where before I was always seeking ideas of what was popular, now I seek themes and stories that explore some aspect of life that I feel is important. 

The heart behind my stories is always myself to some degree. Some stories carry more of me than others, but every one of them has a piece of me beating in the center of it. I think all good art is like that. If an artist is unwilling to break themselves open and metaphorically bleed for their work then whatever they create will feel flat, no matter how wonderfully it is executed. 

Coming back to the inevitable question, why do I create?

It’s an innate drive. It can be paused but never turned off. It is something that has become so integral to my life that going more than a couple days without indulging that drive leaves me feeling emotionally off kilter. As a former smoker I can say it is very similar to nicotine withdrawal without as much swearing. I guess besides that innate drive the other thing that keeps me going with it is what I hope to get out of it. I want to impact the world. Whether that be on a wide scale or simply making a positive impact on one person. 

I think at its core many artists and authors have that beating beneath what drives them. Sure we all want to make a good living doing what we do, some even want to be rich. But all of the dedicated artists I have met do not set out on this path purely for the money. I mean I think we all have dreams of being rich and famous one day, but that isn’t what drives me and I can imagine that is the same for a lot of others. 

If you are considering a life in the arts, prepare yourself. There are a lot of dues to be paid and how you define success will determine how you fare with. If you go into it with the primary purpose to be rich and famous, then make sure you have patience and a lot of endurance. I like to think of it like when I was swimming competitively in high school. When it boils down to it, you’re not racing the other people. You’re racing yourself. If after each race, project, or story your skills get a little bit better then you have achieved something. It may seem small in the moment, but all of those moments build upon each other and after a year you will look back at what you did before and be amazed at how far you’ve come. 

I go back from time to time to my old paintings, drawings, and stories. It’s humbling at times, but always inspiring. If you can look through your past work and identify where it could have been stronger then you know you’ve improved over time. In reality, as an artist that is the only part of your career that you can control and that is the result of the dedication and effort you put into it. 

I create because I have to, but also because I hope. I hope that someday something I created will matter to someone else.