8 Clicks from Nowhere ䷀

Dispatches ⌂

Category: Part 6 – Clicking Deeper

And in the end, some will tell you that the only thing that matters is building a self identity and a methodical life around creative expression, putting in the hours, and learning from the effort, that this the true heart of creating stuff. They may have a point.

Chapter List

  • Attention Economy

    I admit I have been hung up on the idea of toiling in obscurity lately. 

    We live in this era where unless you have millions of followers the general consensus is that it’s not worth it to even try.

    As I write this I have hundreds of followers, many of whom are probably bots, and yet here I am—trying. Call me crazy for going in against the grain of common sense.

    The attention economy has warped our perception of what it means to do valuable work. I can sit here and write tens of thousands of words and to many—perhaps even to the opinion of most—that is all wasted effort unless I’m simultaneously hustling and selling and going viral and changing the whole damn world.

    Rather, I sit here writing, toiling in obscurity, and trying not to internalize any of that. Were I to let those feelings seep into my heart they would manifest as nothing more than a shard of failure stabbing me right through.

    Of course, I have given myself a double challenge. Climbing out of the hole of obscurity is hard enough, and deeply more so is climbing out weighted down by a less popular media format like—ugh—the written word.

    It’s a small thing but I try to look at each of these entries, each word and sentence and thought and idea, as something vital in a long game to make something bigger. I try to focus on making a thing that I would like to discover, not looking for a hole to fill and trying to fill it but rather making a mark and making it bigger and bigger until maybe, perhaps, possibly it gets noticed.

    That is the opposite of embracing failure. 

  • Space Silence

    I recently rewatched Alien[1] with the Kid who was doing a critical film analysis for school.  The tagline of the flick is “in space no one can hear you scream” and my first thought was, geeze, that kind of silence would sure help me get some solid writing in.

    Unlike the Kid, who immediately plugged in her headphones and put some video on in the background to “help her focus” as she wrote her essay about xenomorphs and horror science fiction, I usually find I’m the kind of guy who needs as few distractions as possible to get shit done.

    Neither of us are wrong.

    Silence has many meanings, and maybe for you silence is as much about using blaring heavy metal thrasher tunes to silence the inner critic that keeps you from writing. Maybe solitude for you is the negative space of anonymity left behind by a corner table in a crowded cafe. Maybe the conditions that help you find your voice are nothing like mine, or anyone else’s and it would make anyone you explained it to cringe at the very thought.

    The space to create is personal, deep, and often ineffable.

    In the right space no one can hear you scream—or write or yearn for clarity or connect the dots on some great abiding inspiration. Either way, under the category of Space & Silence I’ll be writing more on this topic as the months wear on.

  • Iteration Epics

    I love the idea of incrementalism. In fact, I have a confession. The original intent of this website, the whole first draft of the plan, was to write one hundred percent about the practice of incremental work, iteration, and working through challenges, gamification, and step-by-step efforts to a bigger goal.

    Instead, I simply made it a single chapter, and—you may have noticed—I talk about it with a bit of bias and abundance.

    Oddly enough as this explanation post (I’ve been writing one, in order, for each of my topics on every Monday for the last twenty-some weeks) came up in the queue, this project is simultaneously approaching it’s two hundredth post. In fact, this may very well be it.  And now well into my tenth month of writing an article for every weekday of this year so far, I’m approaching eighty thousand words of content on this site.

    Eighty thousand words is a book. Printed, you’d pick it up, hold it in your hand and think “Jeeze, this guy’s got something to get off his chest. This is a thick book.”

    I’ve made that. I’ve written it. I’ve posted it. I’ve refined it, tweaked it, supplemented it with citations and definitions. I’ve sent it out into the world for the better part of a year for anyone to read. And I’ve done it all a few hundred words at a time, each and every weekday, iteratively and in increments.

    If that doesn’t hammer home the point I’m trying to make I don’t know what else does. Either way, under the category of Iteration & Epics I’ll be writing more on this topic as the months wear on.

  • Duty Demand

    I suppose many people read this site and assume that I’m some sort of creative workhorse, never stopping, never resting, burning the candle at both ends (as they say) and churning out endless works of creative brilliance powered by vast, sweeping moments of inspiration granted from on high.

    Heck, nothing could be further from the truth.

    I squeeze in a nap almost every day. I play video games whilst prone on the couch. I take the dog for long meandering walks in the park. I doom scroll. I sit idle while I try to work up the motivation to do something besides sitting idle. I’m just a guy.

    I struggle with ideas. I run plots over and over and over in my head and then decide half way through that the story is going nowhere. I carry around empty notebooks. I put ideas in point form into my phone and then forget what I was trying to say on the topic. I tear up terrible paintings and use the back sides as scrap paper. I noodle on my musical instruments and ignore the pieces I should be practicing while I endlessly tune or wipe dust from the corners. 

    Creativity is a lot of things, but I don’t think I would personally call it a straight line.

    Creativity is a mindset. Creativity is a duty to a long game. Creativity is holding the spirit of making and sharing and inventing and dreaming in your head—and then being ready to push on with the work when opportunity strikes, sure… but it is also habit.

    I am all those things from before but also I block off time every day to write. I keep notes on my phone. I hang those musical instruments near a music stand so I can reach over and pluck them from the wall to play. I have rituals. I have schedules. I have deadlines. I have demands I put upon myself to get the work done through the chaos of life. 

    That’s long game consistency, and creativity often comes simply from getting the work done around other commitments and obligations. Under the category of Duty & Demand I’ll be writing more on this topic as the months wear on.

  • First Thrust

    Apparently attributable to a conversation published in a book[1] so out-of-print I couldn’t even locate one at a local library, Picasso is to have said that “In drawing, nothing is better than the first attempt.”

    His point, I think, may have had something to do with character, imperfection and what another famous painter, Bob Ross, probably would have called a “happy accident.”

    Trying to polish, correct, or refine something that emerged as beautiful from that first thrust of the pen, the initial strokes upon a keyboard or an inspired glimmer of photographic insight is, one might claim, fighting against the artistic instinct.  The rawness of the first try carries a beauty that, I might be so bold as to say that Picasso seemed to suggest, is difficult to replicate through copying the effort or nudging it with a more conscious hand.

    I find it captivating, this idea that imperfection has a beauty that transcends a glossy finish. We seem to worship the idea of factory fresh and mint-in-box and too often find ourselves chasing art that fits some commercial vibe or mechanized standardization.  

    Instead, leaning into a first try—not a try devoid of talent or skill, nor a try devoid of an experienced hand—but an attempt that is a first thrust at a new project, art without a reference draft to glance towards, that is where the richness of creativity might be truly bound.