Creative Community and Sh*tty First Drafts
A little while ago, growing disillusioned with social media (desperately missing real, physical community), I decided to cut out certain voices that were bringing me down. For a brief period I considered deleting all forms of social media altogether. But as I began replacing unhelpful voices with wise and impassioned writers, theologians, poets, creators, and makers, I discovered peace on a platform I hadn’t really had in a while. A space that far too often breeds comparisons and fuels imposter syndrome, can be a place of encouragement, renewed creative drive, true friendship, healthy advice, beautiful words and pictures.
Reconfiguring friendships and follows has led to my stumbling upon books, articles, and instagram posts that provide depth, richness, and good questions. Sure, there are people who use social media to flaunt their lifestyles and successes. But there are countless others who are honest, transparent, and care far more about beauty, relationships, and growing in their crafts than success and notoriety. Meeting fellow writers and creatives has reminded me I’m not alone in the process, the struggle of the work, the pain of rejection, the times I want to create but inspiration eludes me.
The beautiful thing about creative community is the humanization of those we admire. Whether known or unknown, published or unpublished, currently creating or in a standstill, we all struggle. We all think we’re not creative or good or original enough.
In Anne Lamott’s “Bird by Bird,” a hilarious and delicious book on writing, she talks about the “shitty first drafts” that always precede somewhat decent second drafts, and actually good third drafts. Anne explains every single person’s first draft (it doesn’t matter who you are) is terrible. Often that first draft is literal turmoil, a cascade of words sans thesis, good grammar, coherent sentences, leaving you with actual disgust for everything you just jumbled down on paper or in a Word document. I read this section with mouth agape, tears forming in my eyes. I know I’m not the only one who struggles with creative work, but the pain of the struggle can be a lonely one. We deceive ourselves into believing we’re alone in our “shitty first drafts.”
...
My very first college-level art course was a train wreck. I knew I wanted to major in art, but that first class made me question whether I had a single creative bone in my body. I remember standing next to my intimidating hippie professor, looking together at my self portrait I had decided to do in actual ink (everyone else used sharpie). I’d never used ink before, and the result was drippy, hardened, uneven, and hideous lines (there is no erasing or bettering ink). I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and asked, “do you think I have any artistic skill at all?”
I was ashamed of my project, convinced I should be booted from the class and the entire art department. He said (rather sternly), “the fact you were willing to attempt this project in a new medium means something.” In the end, he was far more impressed with the medium than the result. But maybe, that’s part of the creation process?
I can’t create a self portrait without first deciding on a medium, and in the case of my self portrait it was a terrible decision. I ran into the same issue the next semester in ceramics class when I discovered the will to create pots doesn’t necessarily result in anything resembling a pot. At least not the first time, sometimes not even the 18th time. The inking, the clay throwing required practice, quite a few disasters, and even resulted in a few sub-par project grades. My first self portrait was objectively bad. My first clay pots were lopsided, some even exploded in the kiln. Sometimes the medium does not pan out. Sometimes I sit to write and the shitty first draft remains shitty.
To create anything is to be vulnerable. As Anne says, our first drafts are not just bad but often plain embarrassing. The pitt forming in my gut when I turned in that self portrait wasn’t fueled by failure, but fraud. What if people see my portrait and find out I’m an art major? They’ll laugh in my face, throw my portrait down the garbage disposal!
And what if I die before I publish anything, and my poor husband rifles through my drafts and discovers: “wow, Sarah was actually a terrible writer. AND her portrait sucks.”
Anne reminds me that even seasoned creatives fear their “shitty first drafts.” BUT from the absolute mire of bad writing, and poor art, from a medium that is shitty before it’s ever good, we can emerge with renewed vigor. Because the will to make and create is a deeply embedded one. We return to the work and see it with fresh eyes. We circle back to our trusted communities, our co-laborers, lament and voice our frustration, and we’re met with similar frustrations. We discover we’re not alone in our feelings of failure.
We receive similar feedback of “me too,” and “I’m so uninspired,” and “I’ve been rejected for the 10th time.” We realize the people we once put on pedestals are also creatives who struggle, sometimes overwhelmingly so, with the process.
There is good to be found in surrounding ourselves with people who are doing similar work. A community of common creativity and shared passion; where support, encouragement, and helpful feedback can be found.
Because creatives know what it is to fail. And what it is to overcome it.