You know, Hitler wanted to be an artist. At eighteen he took his inheritance, seven hundred kronen, and moved to Vienna to live and study. He applied to the Academy of Fine Arts and later to the School of Architecture. Ever see one of his paintings? Neither have I. Resistance beat him.
Call it overstatement but I’ll say it anyway: it was easier for Hitler to start World War II than it was for him to face a blank square of canvas.
- Steven Pressfield, The War of Art
A month ago, I pledged to myself that I’d publish one piece of writing each week throughout the summer. This would will eventually amount to twelve published pieces in twelve weeks.
The form and substance of these twelve publications wasn’t prescribed. Parables, insights, stories, epithets, sentences even – it all works. Outside of a weekly publishing cadence, I didn’t put any restrictions on it. I could publish whatever I want. On any day of the week. Each piece could be as long or as short as made sense that week. There are almost no rules.
This was one of only two goals I set for myself this summer. And so, it was especially important to me that I not fall short.
When I set it, the goal seemed simple and achievable. In practice, it is. But there are also so many things that can get in my way. There are limitless potential distractions that can derail my creative process; infinite stories with the capacity to annihilate my forward progress.
Not enough time. Too busy. The idea isn’t smart enough. The writing isn’t snappy enough. It’s too long. It’s too short. It’s not as good as it could be if I just gave it another week.
These are all examples of Resistance rearing its ugly head.
A month ago, when I set out on this three-month journey, I’d forgotten how insidious Resistance can be. This week, like a dementor, it’s soul-sucking potential came screaming back into my experience of writing.
These Days vs. Those Days
Sometimes, when I sit down to write, the words just seem to flow out of me.
On these days, my pen takes on a life of its own. It waltzes across the page dotting i’s and crossing t’s as if possessed by some higher being. On these days, it’s not Adam doing the writing; it’s something or someone else.
Letters become words become sentences. Those sentences then begin to evolve into an idea. Before I know it, that idea is supported by text and sub-text that fit perfectly together like a puzzle I didn’t know I was solving. A well-crafted thesis begins to emerge before my eyes as if it’s a mirage; except, it’s real! Ideation turns into refinement, becomes editing, and culminates in publishing.
This experience is mind-bending, impossible, otherworldly. Like trying to explain a sunset to a blind person, words just don’t do it justice.
On these days, the creative juice rages like the Colombia River after back-to-back weeks of never ending rainfall; to stop the torrent of letters and symbols seeping out of me would require immense effort. Letting this unstoppable flow just run its course is really the only option.
These are the good days, when writing is a three-day-old helium balloon in the hands of a toddler; weightless, easy, fun, light. These are the times where there is no Resistance.
But then, there are also those days when the writing process sucks.
On those days, writing is a slog through waist-high mud on a rainy day; the further I trek, the further the other side of the swamp appears to be. The mosquitos are feasting on me – at least someone is having a good day. I am in one on those days.
At times, in the process of writing, the pressure to deliver something worth somebody else’s time can become suffocating. I’ll lose track of the spark of inspiration that got me started down the path I’m on; my momentum fizzles like a firework in the rain. Other times, the idea I’m chewing on becomes too big. The individual threads become so disparate that there is no tying them back together again. The idea has taken on a mind of its own, and it’s gotten away from me. There are other times where I just simply run out of time.
On those days, the Resistance is winning.
These days and those days are my two experiences of writing. They are two sides to the same coin. Surplus and deficit. Feast and famine. Plenty and poverty. Muse and Resistance. It’s hard to distinguish between the inputs that generate one experience versus the other, but the difference in the output—in how I experience the process—is like black and white.
Can you guess which of these states I’ve been in over the past week?
Overcoming the Resistance
When I’m having one of those days (or weeks), and the Resistance is winning, the only thing to do is to avoid giving up entirely.
All there is to accomplish is overcoming the urge to wave the white flag. Staying in the game long enough for my luck to change is, in fact, the whole game. That is success. Because this battle against Resistance never ends.
This is true even when things are going great, and it feels like you’ve beaten Resistance. In fact, it’s true especially in these moments. These are the moments where Resistance will explode out of some unforeseen situation and knock me flat on my ass.
The only thing to do on days when Resistance is winning is to keep fighting the battle in front of me. There is no other way to win the war.
If I can avoid getting knocked out of the game, sooner or later, my luck will change; the momentum in this game called writing will shift, and I will once again have the upper hand. If I persist, I will find something to write about. And when I do, words I’m excited about will begin pouring out of me once again. My faucet of creativity will be turned back on and out will flow letters and words and sentences anew.
This week, it took a battle with Resistance to figure out what I wanted to write about. I was down and out and just about to quit. I had resigned myself to the possibility that this week might be the downfall of my goal for this summer. But there was the solution, right under my nose.
It was Resistance.
The Layers of Creativity
I’ve always thought that creativity was a descriptor of craftmanship: the brilliance that goes into a beautiful song or a visual analogy, the inspiration that brings together a delicious meal or an eye-catching painting, the instinct that facilitates a cross-ice pass that no one else could see.
This definition fits, of course, but maybe there is a deeper layer that was previously imperceptible to me: the creativity underneath the creativity.
This week, creativity was finding a way to circumvent the roadblock that was standing in the way of my writing goal. It was finding something that I was excited to write about and finding a way to publish it.
It was about overcoming the bear hug of Resistance.
Creativity isn’t just in the doing; it’s also in finding a way to overcome the urge not to do. And so, creativity isn’t just for the writer in me; it’s for all of me, all the time. It’s for doing the dishes, getting up early, finishing a book, exercising, and completing the mundane life admin task that’s been sitting unfinished for way too long. The essence of creativity is finding a way to prevail.
This week, creativity was about publishing something for a fifth week in a row. It was about finding a way to be a writer.
Creativity isn’t limited only to the doing. It’s also about overcoming Resistance.
The visual of the bear hug will be my own new superpower, to slay the big 'R'...
Love this!! RESISTANCE is a lifelong nemesis and that's OK...just do the work arounds: show up and put pen to paper ( or barbell in hand, or paint to canvas etc etc etc ). xo