My Future Crappy Work

Sometimes - often - I will do some writing, a collage or photography and realize quickly that it is crappy.  In many cases, I abandon it entirely. Delete.

Other times, I salvage it. A few tweaks and then it's good. I wrote about that experience here in The Crappy Collage.

On occasion I'll jump ship on the first attempt, then re-do it from start to finish. I do this when the idea is good but there is something wrong with the execution.

If I share some writing, collage or photography that means I like it. That's the simple way of looking at it.

It might be almost perfect. But I allow for some other things to happen. Sometimes I try something new on for size and see what sticks. I might consciously decide to explore a new direction or post something I'm a little on the fence about.

If I insisted on perfection every time, sure every time, well developed every time, I wouldn't share anything and I wouldn't do anything.

For the most part though, if I share it I'm proud of it.

If I'm lucky, I stay proud. There's stuff I've made or written that I love as much as the day I finished it. These are rarified moments in artist-time. I cherish this.

There is an in-between thing that happens frequently. Time passes, and if I had it to share again, there are small things I'd change. A paragraph I'd get rid of. Something that could have been more refined. I could have shifted my vantage point a bit to the left. Cropped something out.

So far, I've acknowledged this, but left the words or the image alone. I'm more interested in moving onto the next thing. It was a moment in time and I'm willing to let that be. This isn't brain surgery. This kind of imperfection never killed anyone.

If I get anything published I'll work with my editor and address it then.

Every once in a while, something else happens. I won't beat around the bush.

There is work that I created and shared at some point in the past. This work is crappy. I did not realize it at the time. I thought it was good six months or three years ago. My intentions were good.

It took some time and distance for me to realize it was crappy.

I took a bunch of crappy photographs and wrote a bunch of crappy words. While doing this, I learned a few things. The work I do now is much less crappy because of it.

I stay pragmatic and I stay positive. However, it sometimes takes my breath away, just how crappy something I did is. It's like the air being let out of a balloon. Or the terrible sound the needle makes scratching against an LP.

I keep it in perspective. How important is it that I shared a crappy photograph of moss in 2012? Or that a collage that accompanied a blog post is the paper and glue version of a train wreck? Bad poetry isn't the worst thing that can happen.

Crappy work is something I try my best to avoid but once it's been out there a while it's like carrying a screaming two-year-old out of the lake whose lips are turning blue. He needs to come out of the water. He doesn't want to come out of the water. He's making a lot of noise and kicking. People are looking.

He's your third child. He's acting crappy. You know he's acting crappy. All of these people at the beach know he's acting crappy. You’re not worried or defensive about what these people are thinking. You and these people are in agreement about the crappy screaming. It's best to contain things and move on. Don't overthink it like you did with the first.

That's exactly how it is with the crappy memoir piece I wrote.

My problem isn’t with what I did. My problem is with what I am about to do.

I write a blog post. I do what I always do these days. I write it.  I get rid of some of it. I make a collage. It had no diagonals because I am sick of diagonals. I use my computer printer in a ways that utilize classic printmaking techniques with an irreverent twist. The entire effect is beautiful.

I have a satisfied feeling that comes from doing a good job. I am proud of my work.

But then it occurs to me that I was proud of all the other work I did before and then at a later date I realized that some of it was crappy. Furthermore, there wasn't much rhyme or reason to which work had staying power and which work would become crappy later.

That's when I realize that I might have just finished some future crappy work!

I sit with the worry for a little while. Then I let it go.

It's easy for me to not publish crappy things in real time. I'm not an idiot. I’m not lazy.

The only way to avoid sharing work that I am sure wouldn't ever be crappy later would be to make work and then sit on it for several years before sharing it. Then after a decade, I could see what was still good.

Or I could keep working and working without sharing until becoming a near perfect writer or artist or photographer. I'd emerge, fully formed seeming like an overnight sensation or hidden genius.

These ideas are romantic and not without appeal.

Here's why I'm not doing it.

When I was younger there were limited ways of sharing your work. There was no social media. You could be in a gallery show, you could be published in a book or magazine, you could get commercial assignments, you could show your portfolio of carefully crafted prints to other people.

I did all of these things. But there could be long, lonely spaces between shows, assignments, and publications. Things remained buried in drawers and clamshell boxes. Sometimes I couldn't get anyone to look at my work.

In the best of all worlds, I'd shoot beautiful still life photographs that almost no one would see for six months because that was the lead-time of the magazine.

I wasn't made to work in isolation. Social media is one of the best things that has happened to me.

There is something democratic with all of this. In a global sense, there are no gatekeepers. Our lives are crowded with crappy work that we now need to delete, filter or ignore. Some people dislike this. There's no one keeping the riffraff out.

I've said it before. The cream will rise to the top. It always does.

I can't worry about what work will remain suspended and preserved in amber, or for how long. I can't worry about what will seem antiquated in a month, what will gain meaning with time or look like amateur hour a year from now.

So if you look and read, you'll see my process. It's not a fairy tale. That would be a lovely work of fiction. You never know. I might just write that fable someday.

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Lying In Wait

Percolating

What's Good For Us Now

Lying In Wait

There is writing I have finished. It's pretty damn perfect. But I will not share it publicly now.

Someday is a time when I can share this writing. I feel badly that I cannot share it immediately. But not badly enough to post it.

I am not sharing it because it might make someone else feel bad. It's cryptic but they might figure it out anyway.

So I'm sitting on it.

It feels good to tell you about this writing that I have done. If I choose not to share it now, then at least I can talk about the writing. That's better than nothing.

There is some writing that lives in my head. I haven't worked on it yet in a literal way. That is because I knew from the beginning that this writing would get me into very, very deep hot water.

I've worked out the bones of my story but I haven't used my iPad to record it in the usual way.

So this writing is going into the someday pile also. I'm willing to risk small quantities of hot water, but not this much. I like to stir the pot - a little.

There is writing that is too personal. It is too revealing.

There is writing that is about parenting but would be potentially embarrassing. So that's shelved.

I am glad that I've shared the writing I have. There are one or two pieces that are on the edge of what I should have shared. Would I share them again? I don't know. Some days feel like yes, and some no.

The more stuff I write, the more I've written and shared. I've got a good meaty inventory of it on my blog now.

The more I write and share, the more I've shelved. There is a bank of this unshared writing.

There is writing that I may never share. I could share it if I'd burned every bridge with all of my previous writing. You can see that this will probably never happen.

I've written this. I've shared it. I've mentioned other writing that exists that is not getting shared. You can't read it now but it's not invisible. It's been given its due.

Here is what is helping me now. Keeping good writing that is potentially inflammatory on a shelf is not the same as ignoring it or throwing it away. A stockpile is not a trashcan.

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Subtract One

I Will Say The Wrong Thing

July 1999

The Hatchet Job

I wrote something recently. It seemed almost good. I though it needed some fleshing out. That is what I set out to do.

Just as I was ready to add a little color to the piece, I unexpectedly and suddenly did the opposite. I deleted something.

After deleting a little of it, I liked what I saw. So then I cut the rest of the paragraph. I liked that too.

At this point, I’m on a roll.  I went through the writing, paragraph by paragraph. I deleted a little at a time at first. Then I became bold and started eliminating wide swaths of writing. Entire threads went into the trash.

This non-writing was extremely satisfying. This non-writing started to feel like writing.

After getting rid of most of my writing, I looked at what was left. I didn’t miss what was missing. Even though I had acted very spur of the moment, I knew that I did the right thing.

I was so satisfied with this hatchet job. I didn’t add anything back. I didn’t add anything new.

I’d arrived at the crux of it. I experienced happy minimalism.

I don’t know what this means going forward. But I have a feeling it’s leading somewhere.

Wading In

I've said this before. I'm a very consistent and disciplined person. I wrote a blog post about it called I'm Consistent. I also wrote another blog post related to consistency and sameness called Every Day, No Matter What.

This quality is a good thing when you want to accomplish things, establish a routine and get stuff done. There is a flip side to it. Sometimes all of this discipline can start to weigh on you. It can feel more rigid than what is called for. I've noticed this and I am working on it.

Recently, my family and I embarked on a major renovation of our apartment. It isn’t completely finished. It's a process.

That said, the major elements are behind us. The paint job is done. Most of the furniture is in place. Everyone has their own bedroom.

An apartment renovation takes a lot of planning. During the research, design and early packing phases, I kept on blogging. I kept on blogging while collecting estimates, getting people's insurance certificates in order, talking to re-finishers, taking trips to the Salvation Army and going to our new storage unit facility. I kept on blogging when our apartment got emptier and emptier as we packed, gave away, threw away or re-purposed most of our belongings. Sometimes I blogged about these activities.

There is a time to push through and stay the course. There is a time to change course. I recognized when it was time to change course with my blogging. When things shifted from spending some time most days packing to almost all time every day packing, I started to post my blog once a week rather than the usual twice.  When it was time for our family to vacate our apartment and the paint job to start I began blogging zero times a week.

Initially, I thought I'd start blogging again once our family got settled in at my sister in law's house. But once that happened, I realized that all of my mental energy was taken up. This is understandable. I was unusually tired. I would check in with the painters while they were working. Watching them scrape, prime, plaster and paint brought on a fatigue that was hard to negotiate with. You would think I was doing the work myself.

There were other things going on too numerous to mention now. There was a lot of adjusting. There was unprecedented novelty and surprise. Most of it was good novelty and surprise. But I still needed to process it. This turned out to be quite the big job.

I put my blog on hiatus.

For a while, things were so busy, variable and utterly out of the ordinary that blogging did not come up as an option. Whenever I thought about it, it would sound like this. I'll start writing when I feel more settled. I'll start writing after I feel more like myself. I'll start writing after the furniture comes back from the re-finishers. I'll start writing once I know what my bed will look like.

On Tuesday, the newly beautified and restored dining table and desk came back to a radically different home than they left from. On Wednesday, I established a reasonable prediction of what my bed will look like after ordering linens, shams and throw pillows online and on sale.

I wrote this on Thursday. The re-finishers have indeed finished. The bed is planned. I feel nominally more settled, but still feel like I'm getting used to things in a basic way. I feel like myself, but somehow altered. My life has changed more than I anticipated.

Having met half of my criteria for blogging again, I am blogging again. Two of the four criteria are rather concrete. Two of the four are not. This unsettled and altered feeling is something without a clear ending and may in fact be something I learn to live with. I decided it was not something to be checked off as much as it is something to be accommodated.

I planned to blog. That is what I am doing.

I’m not doing a cannonball and jumping into the lake. I'm putting in one toe.

I am tentative. I did not expect to feel tentative about working on my blog. I didn't feel tentative about it before the renovation. Now that the renovation has happened everything is both more orderly and also more askew. Instead of waiting until I felt less tentative and on firmer ground, I just went ahead.

So what if I'm tentative? It's not the end of the world. Just like there are much bigger stressors than home renovation, there are much bigger challenges to writing and being creative than feeling a bit tentative. Home renovation is a bigger challenge to writing and being creative than feeling tentative.

My apartment and neighborhood are the same. My family and children are the same. When I wake up in the morning I'm in a different room than I used to be with different things to look at. My life hasn't really changed but the landscape of it has. Things that used to be lying around on tables and desks have designated spots. Suddenly there's room for music and books.

Today, I make my collage at my daughter's desk while she is in school. Last time I did this it was at the dining room table. I put a large book under my work to protect the desk from glue and marks. The scotch tape is still packed so I use tiny pieces of masking tape to gently flatten my finished collage. Previously, I photographed my finished pieces on top of the base of our treadmill. There's no room in our current layout for it, so we reluctantly got rid of it. It was the right choice.

I bring this new collage to my bed, which is next to a bank of windows. I move it this way and that to take advantage of the ample natural light while eliminating unsightly shadows. Satisfied, I take the picture. It really is a lovely spot.

When You Hit Publish On One Thing, Be Working On The Next Thing

It's a lot of work publishing a book, having a gallery show, releasing an album. It's a lot of work to finish and screen the documentary, stage the dance and unveil the new collection.

It's a lot of work to create something good. It's also a lot of work to release what you've created to the public.

This is for anyone who creates something and then shares it. You may have an audience of millions of people. You may have an audience of five people. Most of us fall somewhere in between.

This applies in a direct way to artists, writers, designers and musicians. It also applies to people who work outside of what we think of as creative fields in the traditional sense. It isn't for the person working day in and day out in total isolation. You would need a different sort of blog post.

It's for people who hit publish. It's for people who perform. It's for people who sell their wares. It's for people who reveal. Other people read it or don't, show up or not, buy it or decide not to.

You're working in a single-minded way on the finishing touches of that memoir and the publication date and book release party are finally in sight. You've got the author readings and book signings scheduled. It seems tempting and intuitive to just focus on that book. You'll decide what to do next after the book tour. After the party. When time frees up a bit. Take a breather. Bask in the accomplishment.

I get it. But here's why my idea is better.

Once the work gets shared with the world, the room, the stage or the conference audience, it’s out there. By the time other people have the chance to review, comment, respond, share, ignore, purchase, watch, listen to, re-tweet, wear, read, write about, rank, hate on, misunderstand or worship your work, it needs to be like old news to you.

It needs to feel like old news to you when it feels like breaking news to everyone else.

Here it is in practical terms.

You're a painter hanging your show of exquisite paintings using re-claimed wood as a surface. They're all about color and knotty texture and beautiful interaction - collaboration - with the wood. Your show opens, and you're accepting congratulations and sipping - okay guzzling - white wine.

But earlier that day, you were in the studio that doubles as a guest room. You were already working on the second painting in a new series. These are on white linen, are soft and ethereal. They seem lit from within. You've made a bit of a departure.

This is good.

You can show your finished work in its best light, have the most beautiful packaging and the state of the art sound system. You can work with the best graphic designer for that book cover or collaborate with the dream producer. The acoustics may be perfect. The cinematography sublime.

You still don't have much control over how your work will be received. The truth is, it probably won't be unanimously praised. Most people may love it, but a few might hate it. Most people may hate it and a few may love it. People might feel apathy. People might find it derivative.

People adore it. That love may be close to universal. But then no one will want to buy it.

Critics hate it, but it's flying off the shelves.

Try as you might to influence it, you can't control it.

Better that it feels like old news, this work you're presenting. It's still yours. But it's not you.

You're a moving train. You could bomb. It's better to be halfway through your comeback when this happens. You don't want to be staring at a blank screen or canvas.

You don't want to get all bogged down in how you'll follow the wildly successful show, blog post or lecture. For better or worse, it's already happening. You're in motion. It doesn't mean you can't change direction. But that's not the same as starting from scratch.

No one thing should canonize you. No one thing should destroy you. Working on the next thing prevents either of these things from happening. It keeps you current. It keeps you running ahead. You’ll never be yesterday’s news.

I like dispensing advice about the creative process. You can read more at the links below.

Have More Than One Thing Going At The Same Time

Leave Me Wanting More

Jeremy Doesn’t Get Writer’s Block

I’m Consistent

This Book Changed My Life

I Am Thankful For This Blog

My daughter Hannah is a vegetarian. She also eats fish. But she will not consume poultry. Soon I will be making an extra stuffing for our Thanksgiving feast that does not contain turkey juices or traces of turkey. This stuffing will be entirely devoid of turkey.

I am making a stuffing recipe that I've made before, but not for Thanksgiving. I served it one Christmas when Jeremy's cousin and his son joined us for dinner. This stuffing went over extremely well at that gathering. I still remember the unbridled enthusiasm and compliments.

It's officially a sourdough stuffing with apples and raisins, but I substitute dried cranberries for the raisins.

I also remember the mild smoke condition I accidentally created in our apartment that Christmas while roasting chickens. Jeremy's cousins said it was the best chicken they ever had.

I am thankful for this stuffing I am about to make. I am thankful about a great many things - my family, my friends, excellent heath, enormous quantities of delicious Thanksgiving foods, Thanksgiving leftovers, Stove Top Stuffing for when I haven't had my fill of stuffing, but don't want a lot of hassle.

But for today, I'm going to focus my gratitude post on Blogging.

First, I'd like to thank all of the technology related folks who include but are not confined to Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg. While I was busy socializing, doing what Temple Grandin calls yak-yak, you were hard at work. If it weren't for you, I'd still be using the phone for everything.

I could not have foreseen the Internet, Facebook, iPads or blogging. If it weren't for these things, I might still have a DayRunner – I always liked it more than Filofax - with people's phone numbers handwritten in it. I would then have my artistic phone call time. I’d leave a message on people's answering machines twice a week, reading aloud my various thoughts and musings. The only way to unsubscribe would be to change your phone number.

Back in the day, before all of this social media and sharing capability, I remember the isolation I felt, taking photographs that no one saw, writing things that no one read. Because it was all I knew, I didn't perceive it as isolation per se. It was more of an unnamed malaise.

Sure, sometimes my work got seen by a lot of people. I spent a number of years doing food photography for the NY Times magazine and everyone saw that. I still remember the excitement of opening the newspaper - the actual newspaper - and seeing my photography.

I'd invite all my friends to group shows I was in. I'd plunk my portfolio in front of an actual set of eyes as often as humanly possible. I'd write beautifully composed letters to photographers I liked.

But then there we what felt like droughts. There were tons and tons of gatekeepers. I'd spend a lot of time alone with my carefully crafted work.

So I'm really thankful for the gift of email, Twitter, what used to be called the worldwide web and what I still call my devices, much to the chagrin of my children.

Since I've established that I enjoy attention and dislike working in isolation - so many people who say they don't like attention are lying - I am thankful for the audience who reads my blog. Facebook and this blog are my new galleries, magazines and billboards rolled into one.

I am thankful that people use the vocabulary of social media to like, comment, favorite, share, re-tweet, friend, follow and subscribe.

I am also thankful for people who follow my blog, but for whatever reason, do not feel comfortable leaving comments. The same people who shy away from this often have no issue whatsoever yelling across Broadway as I walk down the street Hey! I just ordered that book you recommended! They scream.

Or I run into the shyer types at the drugstore and they'll say oh hi, how did things work out with the new high school? Like we are just continuing a conversation we started earlier, only it's me writing and her reading. It's new and old fashioned at the same time.

If I know you and you don't read my blog - you won't ever see this because you don't read my blog - I'm thankful for the fact that we know each other, but that you don't read my blog. That is because if you are not reading it, then I feel very free to write about you in this blog.

I'm kidding about that last thing. Okay, let's call it 50/50.

I am thankful to the people who paved the way and blogged before me. I love many of your blogs. The fact that you are blogging about the things you're blogging about means I don't have to blog about these things. Or if we share certain subjects in common, I do it my way and you do it your way. You blog this way, and I blog that.

The fact that you were out of the starting gate first meant that I got to experience certain things second hand. You getting into a little hot water with your blog. Trolls, haters, drama.

There are certain blog posts that will only live inside my head.

I am grateful for my iPhone camera. I received this iPhone as a gift. I take all of these photographs and it doesn’t cost a cent.

This idea is revolutionary. Photography was too expensive for me before. Film purchasing, film processing, contact sheets, darkroom time. I enjoyed all of it. I was a master printer. But I couldn’t afford to just take photographs whenever I wanted of whatever I wanted.

This business of wherever I want and whatever I want is amazing.

While we are on the subject of thankfulness and blogging, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Jeremy. Even if Jeremy didn’t help me with my blog, I’d still be thankful for him a million times over.

Jeremy started his blog, AnEarful several years ago. He learned the ropes. Jeremy is the kind of person who no matter what his job description is, or where he is working, he is always helping people with their computers. Oncologists at work know how to treat cancer, but sometimes their computer problems will trip them up. Then Jeremy will help them.

Jeremy helps everyone here at home with their computers and electronics. And so it is with my blog. Jeremy helped me design my blog. He proofreads every post, which is another one of his talents. He knows when to make a suggestion on grammar or content and knows when to keep quiet.

Jeremy got me indoctrinated with Twitter and helped me until I got used to it. Turns out I enjoy the 140 character part now. Last Thanksgiving I wasn’t even on Twitter yet. Now I’m thankful for it.

I’m not on Pinterest or Instagram. My whole policy is to master one social media platform at a time. But now that I’m so comfortable with and thankful for Twitter, I think Instagram might be next. I’ll wade in with Jeremy and then before you know it, it will be like I’ve done it all my life. I predict that next Thanksgiving at this time, I’ll be thankful for that, too.

The Blog Book

I love having a blog. I love reading other people's blogs. I like to encourage talented people to start a blog, continue their blogs or expand their blogs. I also like reading about blogging. So when an extended family member who is also a friend posted a picture of a blog book she was reading on Facebook, I ordered the blog book and read it too.

This blog book is Blog Inc. by Joy Deangdeelert Cho. I very much recommend this book if you already have a blog, are thinking of starting a blog, or are generally interested in blogs.

The book is very user friendly. It is not only user friendly but friendly-friendly. The design is whimsical, welcoming and clear. It's readable. Detailed without being too detailed. Accessible for the newbie without talking down to someone more experienced. There's a wealth of practical information and resources.

One of my favorite parts of the blog book are the interviews with established and successful bloggers. The interviews are like mini memoirs about people's creative processes, how they got started, unexpected challenges along the way and stuff they wished they knew when they began. As someone who loves reading about other people, I enjoyed having a peek into the lives of creative folks who  are different from myself. I loved learning about how the blogs fit into people's everyday lives.

When I first started the blog book, my expectation was that I would have an enjoyable reading experience and most likely get some useful snippets. I expected to be entertained because reading books is one of my biggest sources of entertainment. I knew there would be interviews with other bloggers and I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into that.

All of this came true. What I wasn't expecting was a huge epiphany and life changing experience.

A little background. I struggle with perfectionism. This isn't some backhanded way of bragging or complimenting myself. At its worst it keeps me literally stuck in one place and spinning my wheels. It can be debilitating.

Things have gotten better for me in this regard. I'm more aware of it. I'm better at managing it.

Before reading the blog book, I established a regular posting schedule for this blog. I'm pleased with how it's going. I'm creating something I'm proud of.

In addition to Non-Fiction Living, I've had at least four other ideas for blogs. These aren't fly by night ideas. They are themes I keep mentally returning to again and again.

Here are my blog ideas in a nutshell. One of them is about how to be a cool old person. Another one is about sharing my success at maintaining a healthy weight while still living really well. The third one revolves around people working creatively. Number four would be me advising people about how to take good pictures with an iPhone camera. I'm talking in generalities now rather than specifics.

I was struggling with my four other blog ideas. I knew I wanted to keep on doing Non-Fiction Living. But I figured that the other ideas deserved their own blogs, along with their own creative identities, their own Facebook pages and audiences. The problem is that I am only one person with many different goals and responsibilities. I was sure it would be impossible to do justice to all of the blogs.

In other words, I was headed full speed toward Multiple Blog Disorder. Joy Deangdeelert Cho coined the term and only thing that saved me from this fate was Blog Inc. She shared her personal experience with her blog Oh Joy! She described the very process I’ve been going through as though reading my mind. She saved me a lot of trouble now and down the road. She got me off of the obsessional track I was on.

Because of the blog book, I'm going to be folding all of my other ideas into Non-Fiction Living. So if you keep on reading this blog, you'll see some food posts, posts about creative people, posts about old people and posts about iPhone photography. It gave me the confidence and permission to expand my present blog.

Many thanks to Joy Deangdeelert Cho for Blog Inc.

Chronicle Books has published a whole series of similar books I'm looking forward to delving into. I’ll let you know what I think of Creative Inc., Mom Inc., Craft Inc. and Art Inc. after I’ve read them!