Creativity

Pecking away for hours in solitude, wandering the wide and wicked landscape of your own imagination.
Believing that the stories you create will be read by anyone else. And that those stories will move the reader to feel, think or do something differently.
Daring to ask, again and again, for someone to take your writing and publish it.
Risking your own neck and publishing the damn book yourself.
For no promise of fiscal or social reward at all.
What kind of fool would do these things?
Millions of us.
The nerds who are thrilled by finding just the right word. The dunderheads who love to tell a good story and who even thrive on the challenge of telling a great story.
The dreamers who are so smitten with story that they are willing to invest their time, energy and heart in something that may never go anywhere at all.
It’s not just writers. It’s artists, entrepreneurs and parents who take this fool’s journey of creativity.
Because to not heed the call to embark on the fool’s journey of creativity is to live the life of regret, sorrow and loss.
Go ahead. Be a fool. Dare to write that story, sing that song, have that baby. Build that business, go for it.
Even if you don’t get published, don’t earn a dime, don’t become famous, you’ve stood up for your original impulse.
And there’s nothing foolish about that.
The fools who dare, who risk, are the ones we admire. We relish their daring. We applaud their willingness to take a stand. We adore the wildly imaginative things they’ve created.
Be a fool. Let your creativity run wild.
A great resource for coping with the fears and challenges of the fool’s journey is the book Uncertainty by Jonathan Fields.
It’s a very helpful hand-holding through the many unknowns in the creative process.
 
 

I don’t consider myself a flighty person, but I do notice my pattern of ‘grass is greener’ syndrome. If I’m in Denver, I long for Paris. In Paris, I grow weary of the urban attitude and wish I were in Colorado with friends and space instead of strangers and bustle.
The boomerang way

From 1993 to 1999 I worked at Capitol Hill Books in Denver. I wasn’t there contiguously; instead, I came and went as I explored writing, teaching and the world. My co-workers finally stopped throwing going away parties. I dubbed myself ‘Boomerang’.
Do you, too, long for something other than what you have? Perhaps you’re a boomerang too, whether in your thoughts or actions.
In the studio, you have a tug to be with friends. With loved ones, you want to be back home working on that piece you’re obsessed with. This desire to be elsewhere seems common for creatives.
My work as a coach is to keep posing this question: what do we need to do our best creative work? The answer will be different for everybody and will change over time.
Boomerang lifestyle loses its allure
Back in July, it seemed like a good idea to pack everything up and move to Paris. I had travel plans that took me to Europe and a seven-week dog sitting gig for a friend. I thought I might as well stay over the winter and come back in spring to launch my novel, Chasing Sylvia Beach.
In August I discovered that wasn’t the best idea. For a number of reasons.
Since I packed up my things and decamped to Paris, I’ve realized a lot. Spending 10 of the last 15 weeks alone gave me a lot of time to reflect. I’ve taken the hero’s journey again, leaving home to gain perspective and unearth vital new truths.
I discovered that I do not want to live in France. I had this sense when I was here in 2008, but it’s solidified now. My lifelong dream to follow in Sylvia Beach’s footsteps and be a Frenchy isn’t true for me anymore. I can visit France when it feels right.
I also realized how much help I will need to publish and launch my novel. I’ve lived in Colorado for twenty years and have developed solid relationships with writers, editors and artists. It occurred to me that distancing myself from my network at this crucial time would be nuts.
Sure, we all connect online, but that’s not the same as running into someone at a gathering and catching up in person. This is something that location independence lifestyle can never replace – near and dear connections with your local community.
It also costs one third more to be in France. I believe the energy required to live in a foreign country is also at least one third more. I am publishing my novel in June and I want all my vital resources (energy, time and money) going to that project.
Settling in to focus
I am learning how to be where I am without yearning for another place. I have had this sense of ‘wanting elsewhere’ my entire life. As a child, I wanted to be free to explore. I found this freedom in books. Now I look for the ‘be here now’ approach to relishing and appreciating my life no matter where I am.
I’m back in Colorado and will be settling into a new home in Denver. I’ll always be asking the question: What environment best helps me complete my creative projects?
 Do you feel this boomerang (back and forth) pattern in your life or creative work? How does it help or hinder you? 

George Whitman, owner of Shakespeare and Company bookstore in Paris, died last week at age 98. He left behind one of the greatest bookstores in the world, a ‘great good place’ that welcomed booklovers and writers and became an iconic, must-visit living Parisian landmark.
Sylvia Beach was the original founder of the original Shakespeare and Company in Paris. In 1919, with a check for $3,000 from her mother, she opened the first English language lending library and bookshop in the French capitol.
After two decades of saintly devotion to Anglophone readers in Paris, Sylvia shuttered the store. Faced with the Nazi threat, she hid all the books upstairs and effectively erased any trace of the place she’d so lovingly tended.
After the war, American GI George Whitman, a free spirit and bibliophile, arrived in Paris. He opened a small bookshop named the Mistral, and later moved to the rue de la Bucherie, across from Notre Dame cathedral, and launched his own version of Shakespeare and Company.
These two Americans staked a claim in Paris for those who devoted to books and the people who write them. Sylvia and George shared the characteristics one needs to operate a bookshop: blind faith, tenacity and above all else, an unshakable commitment to books.
I wonder what Sylvia and George would think about electronic publishing and the ability to buy and consume books without ever having to encounter another person. I think it’s great, and I also believe that we need the quirky, creaky bookshops of the world.
No online shopping or tablet reading can replace the poignancy of being in a space devoted to and packed with collections of paper that can transport, transform, and enliven. The act of browsing in a space packed to the ceiling with books is one of the simple pleasures of life.
A bookish legacy continues
Both Sylvia and George died peacefully in their respective apartments above their respective Shakespeare and Company bookshops. George’s young daughter Sylvia will continue to operate the iconic Paris bookshop.
The legacy that has been given – a place where book signings, concerts, film screenings, festivals, discussions and yes, indeed, even the commerce of books — will continue, accompanied as always by the sound of the bells of Notre Dame ringing out from across the street.
I think if Sylvia could see the bookshop now, she’d be smiling, knowing that her cause of serving writers and readers continues. Rest in peace, George Whitman, and may your bookish legacy live long and strong.

Xavier invites us to slow down:

The Place de la Concorde métro station in Paris is paneled with white tiles. On these white tiles are blue letters so when the train comes into the station, you feel as if you’re entering a tunnel of words. But only if you use the pause to see the letters will you see that they’re not random letters.
One day I picked out ‘contribution publique’. Public contribution. I love that. It made me question my contribution.
What am I contributing to the public space?
Often it’s something along the lines of:

• Irritation
• Hurriedness
• Anxiety

When I become conscious of my state of being, I can slow down and choose something other than grumpiness.
I do this thing in airports where there’s a lot of tension and anxiety. I consciously emanate calmness. Moving slowly through the space, I act as if there’s no need for fear or worry. I relax and trust that all is well. I usually find a wall to the side of the waiting area and practice a few yoga asanas.
Often I see people start doing their own pre-flight stretches. People have approached me and asked about yoga. I see the ripple effect of a few public stretches. I know I’ve sent out:

• Calmness
• Peace
• Trust

For my life online, my policy is to not put negative comments into the space. Often I want to complain about something. A snarky response dances at the edge of my fingertips, wanting to get out there and show how clever and smart I am.
But I hold back. That’s not the contribution I want to make.
I can do this anywhere – send out ‘good vibes’. This is one possible contribution publique, to be mindful of the energy I put into the world around me.
The Occupy Movement is another public contribution. Giving money or food to people begging on the street is another public contribution.
As part of the American Thanksgiving celebration, consider your public contribution.
What do you contribute and what would you like to contribute? 

To keep things fresh and operating smoothly, you update you software and apps. You change the oil in your car and get your hair cut regularly. You may even do a spring and fall cleaning of your home.
You keep things current. If you don’t, your systems aren’t operating at full capacity. You are limited in what you can generate if you’re not up to date.
You’re good about these external updates, but what about updates for your inner landscape?
When is the last time you refreshed your commitments and beliefs? If you’re feeling stale or uninspired, pressured, it may be time to get current with your beliefs.
Getting current with France
In February 2000, I stood in the Pere Lachaise cemetery. It had been 8 years since I’d been to Paris. I was enjoying a few days there after my job as a hot air balloon chef in Switzerland.
Standing among the mossy sepulchers, I had a blinding realization: I speak French. I speak French, and this francophilia was a huge part of who I had always been. I missed France and loved speaking French.
Right there, I made a commitment to myself to return to France every year.
Fast forward to 2011. I’ve almost kept my commitment. I’ve been to France every year but 2002 and 2004, and during those years I’d gone to London. (Close enough, right?)
In Paris this year with my friend Tonja, I recount this story of my commitment to return to France every year. She listens, nods, and finally says, “You don’t have to come back every year.” “I know,” I say, brushing on to the next thought.
But later, I reflected on what she said. That’s right, I thought. I don’t have to come back every year. That commitment I made 10 years ago needed updating.
When I considered not coming back every year, I felt liberated. I’ve satisfied my francophilia. I’ve improved my French and learned more about French and European culture. I’ve shared this love with people on my excursions.
Getting current feels good
I probably will come back regularly, but I don’t have to. Updating this commitment helps me stay open to new commitments, like publishing my novel and offering my new writing workshop. It puts me at choice in the present.
Getting current like this has inspired me to look at my other beliefs and commitments. I’ve made a list and am checking in with what’s true for me now. I renew some beliefs  and release others. It feels good to do this updating of my inner landscape. It allows me to grow even further than I imagined when I made those commitments.
Try this for yourself. What beliefs and commitments can you update? Share your experience with this process in a comment below.
I help my clients get current so they can more toward what they want in life. Work with me to make life sweeter, easier and more authentic to your original impulse.

If you’re like me, your description of what you do can be a run-on sentence. “I’m a coach and an author and a speaker and a traveler and a yogini, and…”
Or, you have an idea for a project. It’s a brilliant core idea, and it’s got a lot of branches. “It’s a workshop and an e-book and an app and…”

Or, your description of what you’re currently up to resembles a train with a million cars attached. “I’m working on my novel and an e-book and a series for this workshop I want to lead and…”
Do you see the problem with ‘and’? I’m exhausted just writing about it. You’re probably overwhelmed thinking about all you’re trying to do. And the person you’re telling this to? Completely incapable of grasping or caring about anything past the first ‘and’.
It’s okay to be juggling multiple projects. We all do it. Whether we’re doing it successfully is another topic.
Stop the ‘and’
If your descriptions of what you do are peppered with ‘ands’, I invite you to embrace the full stop period instead of ‘and’. Try sharing just one thing.
“What are you up to?”
“I’m working on publishing my novel.”
From there, the conversation can deepen into this one topic. Perhaps it will spread to other subjects as well, where you can share the other things you’re up to. Leaving out the ‘and’ allows for a little more breathing space and perhaps a bit more focus, for the duration of the conversation at least.
Works for writing, too
The ‘and’ can detract from your writing as well. This is one of my personal writing weaknesses. I want to pack so much into a sentence that all my sentences are compound. This kind of writing can be confusing and distracting. Run-on thoughts leave the reader tired and overwhelmed. (See?)
Is this true for you? Put your antennae up for ‘and’ this week both in your speech and writing. See what it’s like to use a full stop. Enjoy the simplicity of focusing only on one thing at a time. Notice what’s different for you, and let us know in a comment below.

Summer – lazy time! It can feel too hot to move, let alone focus on anything specific. We’d rather lie in the hammock, sip lemonade and read a book.

What if you honored those inclinations to slow down? Give yourself permission to be lazy. Chilling out doesn’t mean leaving your creativity behind.
Use the mellow pace to get big – in your mind.
Dream, envision, and open yourself to possibility. Reflect on where you’ve been so far this year and imagine where the rest of the year will take you.

Jot your vision and dreams down, no matter how lofty or mundane. No need to do anything about them, or even plan, if you don’t want. Just capture the dream.
This kind of dreamy spaciousness is exactly what we need most for our creativity – the space to explore possibilities.
One fun exercise, from Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, is to list five alternate careers. If you had taken five other paths, what might they have been?
Mine:

• Professor
• Tour guide
• Stand up comic
• Singer
• Psychotherapist

When I look at these, I see pieces of what I’d like to have in my life: more time in front of audiences. More time moving people emotionally and creatively.
I can do that in my current life as coach and writer. I don’t need to worry in these lazy days of summer about how I will do that. Just seeding these desires is enough for now.
I’m off to dream about the book tour for my novel, how I will decorate my new home, and how much fun it will be to enjoy it all with my hot man.
What dreams do your summer lazy days evoke? Let us know in a comment below. And if you’ve never gone through Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, it’s an excellent resource for sourcing your deep desires and dreaming big.
In case you think dreaming is a waste of time, check out this book: Write It Down, Make It Happen by Henriette Klauser.