Seth Godin advises writers and other artists (at around 7:45 of this video), “What you do for a living is not be creative. Everyone is creative. What you do for a living is ship.… That is the discipline of what a creative artist does.” Even allowing for a little hyperbole (obviously artists have to be creative and ship), it is a useful reminder.
I ran across this clip the other day, just as I have been laboring to finish my third novel. And “laboring” is just the word for it: after a December that was by far my most productive month ever, I have been useless in January. I have not been writing well enough. Much, much worse, I haven’t been writing enough, period. I have rationalized my January slump as exhaustion and “part of the creative process” and all the usual horseshit, but listening to Godin I wonder if it isn’t the lizard brain after all — fear of finishing, of showing your work, being judged. Yes, even now, with two books under my belt.
I have sometimes been jealous of my writer-friends who were trained to write on deadline. Advertising copywriters do not learn to write truthfully, and journalists do not learn to write beautifully. But they do learn to finish. Or call the damn thing finished, whatever imperfections remain, and move on to the next assignment. In the long run, that may be the most valuable skill of all.
Finish. Ship. Next project. That is the unpoetic reality of being a writer. All writers know this, yet all writers need to hear it again and again. Myself included.
Source: Seth Godin: “Quieting the Lizard Brain” on Vimeo. Read Godin’s blog on the same subject here.
“What you do for a living is not be creative. Everyone is creative. What you do for a living is ship!” Brilliant. Inspirational. I have to listen to this stuff every day I think! Or even maybe while I sleep.
Thanks for sharing.
If you can agree that there is no such thing as perfection, that everything has a flaw, then finishing and shipping your art before or on deadline must surely be an easier prospect to face.
I’ve been writing technical books, developing interactive projects and producing information architecture plans for many years. In the beginning everything had to be perfect; I wouldn’t release anything until it was 100% correct. This made for a very stressful and anxiety-ridden ride to the finish line, resulting inevitably with another missed deadline. After one such occasion, a seasoned Project Manager gently reminded me that everything – EVERYTHING – is flawed, including classic works of art, literature, architecture, music, and especially in the high-tech world. His sobering words have had an enormous affect, akin to learning to “embrace and let go.” My work has improved, creative input has sky-rocketed, speed of production is such that I hardly miss a deadline, and work is released – “shipped” – flawed. In percntages, I’d say the flaws in the work might total to no more than three to five percent. Thanks to that Project Manager, I can easily live with that small margin of error.
The end result is always one of deep satisfaction.
Oh dear, this comment is a little too long. No sweat if you want to edit or abolish it completely.
It’s a lesson every writer has to learn, usually the hard way. Personally, it’s a lesson I have to learn over and over again, as I seem to resist living by it. Thanks for adding your story, Jez.