I’m honestly not sure if it’s a catch phrase anymore or not, but for years I’ve found myself saying “pumping the well, the creative well.” Doing something to jump start the empty page in front of me, anything to stop the page looking perfect and unspoiled…less intimidating.
The first word, first pencil line, first shaping scares the daylights out of me. I can’t explain why. Then again, I was this way with school tests and essays. Where and how does one start? There’s no recipe to follow. There’s no guarantee of a finished product worth sharing. There’s nothing for anyone else to value. It’s a time waster…okay, who unlocked the nasty critic?
You know, I think I’ll write the critic out. I’ll give her a shape and home, some place where I can then chain her up and lock her away.
I did this for my anxiety beast. I gave it a metal rod cemented deep into the ground. From there it’s attached by a steel chain. Covering this is a standard square with a triangle roof dog house. The dog house is contained within a rectangle metal fence. There is a gate, but that’s bolted and padlocked.
It, never named my anxiety beast, sneaks out of the dog house door sometimes, then into its fenced yard, and then sometimes pokes at the fence. On really bad days it breaks the bolt and padlock. But it never escapes the chain, so I can always reel it in. I’ve learned that trick, finally.
So, why not create my critic? Heaven knows she needs reeling in…big time. She needs a home. A box room. Plain, boring, cardboard colour box room. No windows, no door, no ceiling. There she sits on a hard, uneven assembly-hall folding chair. The chair is pulled up to a cold steel table that wobbles as well. One blank page on the table…no pen or pencil.
Okay, she’s in there. Sitting waiting to do her worse. Ahh, but there’s no ceiling on this box room, she can escape. Nope, this box has hidden folding flaps which I’m going to duct tape close, creating her ceiling. I’m going to duct tape the whole box and put it way up high on my mental storage shelf or way down in the far back corner.
No, I think I’ll put her right in the centre. Eye level. I know she’s there and frankly, she’s the only critic I need ever face. From her I gain my strength. From her I prove and reprove myself time and time again.
She is the emptiness I must live with in order to know what fills me.
I’m turning the tables on her…she’s going to pump my creative well, whether she likes it or not!