Often I will write about the problem. (There’s always a problem I’m trying to solve. Couple reasons: one, I’m a problem solver, I solve problems, it’s just this thing I do. Two, if there’s no problem, no conflict, there’s no reason, no goal, no “there” there. So, if there’s nothing to think or talk or write about, there’s nothing to be done, and I should probably think about food or money or some other more fundamental concern for a while longer.)
Writing about the problem works well for me. I like words and they don’t fight me much. I can muddle my way through some poorly constructed run-on sentences, and hey, ok, maybe this gibberish isn’t going to end up in the New York Times, but somehow now I’m a little clearer on what the problem is, and I’m starting to get some outlines of possible solutions. Maybe I’ll revise/edit (or just keep writing) or maybe the thing is starting to be clear enough that I can talk about it with someone else.
I find the others. There’s probably one or two other people in the world who have considered similar problems before. They may have even solved them (possibly multiple times!) Don’t expect them to do the work for you. That won’t be satisfying, and anyway, they won’t be there every time thereafter. Let them hold a mirror up to what you’re doing. It’s kind of a funhouse mirror, because you’re seeing yourself and your work through their eyes. Sometimes what I’m talking about is called brainstorming and other times it’s called critique, but it can also be casual conversation or whatever. Some of what you’ll hear will be ridiculous or wrong or bad, but that’s fine. Remember, they’re not doing this for you. It’s still your work. Soak it all up and give back some gratitude.
I force myself. Yeah, seriously. I just do it. Sometimes it’s a grind. You’re supposed to be having fun, right? But sometimes you also just practice. You work hard so you can play hard. Practice until it’s so deep in your bones that you can hardly remember a time when it wasn’t second nature. Get creative with practice. Blur the lines between exercise and improv and performance. Sure, do those arpeggios, but do them different today, in a different order, in a different key, or whatever. You’ll never feel like you’re in a rut if you never do it the exact same way twice. Sometimes you have to do it the exact same way twice (and also way more than twice) though. It’s part of the process.
You are not your work and your work is not you. The work is a record of a thing you did at a point in time. It does not define you. You are capable of growth and change. You might need more practice. Maybe you need a new friend. Maybe you need a whole support network of friends and collaborators. Maybe you need to sit down with a pencil and some paper and think it through. You’ll make another piece of work. It won’t define you either.
