The Saddle, and Getting Back In It.
Posted by: Finch in Musings, Writing, tags: job, motivation, stupid human tricks, timeThe last few months have been hell on my creative drive.
As much as I like to bitch (check the size of the ‘bitching’ tag on the left), this actually isn’t one; it’s an observation, and perhaps a diagnostic, but not a bitch.
I’ve always been fond of saying that the job is a paycheck, not Art, which is code for giving myself an excuse for not getting incredibly stressed out to the point of going bug-eyed and wondering where the sharp cutlery is when I deal with the inevitable brats, idiots and egotists at work. I’m in advertising, so not only do I get those separately, they often come in cunning combinations of the three — which is why it’s so important I maintain that distinction.
Lately I’ve come under the guidance of a Man of Business. I am not categorizing him in this in this way to mock him, nor am I engaging in the art of sarcasm in any way when I say that. I say it, because this is a man for whom his job IS his art. Having made this observation, it’s actually profound to watch him in action, and proof positive to me that for every medium, there is an Artist. Subtle nuances of human interaction are the clearest indicators to him; shifts in process alert him to emergencies buried deeply in complex projects, and for one of the very few times in my life I find myself constantly learning.
It has, however, been my great misfortune to join forces with this fellow at precisely the moment the business decides to collapse in upon itself with all the fury of an obsessive-compulsive chasing after a white whale. As a result, the Artist has gone manic in an attempt to save said business from consuming itself in a cannibalistic orgy the likes of which even the Donner Party would have balked at, and my life, as a result of that association, has gone from the casual contemplation of a paycheck to furious reactionary firefighting. Given the current economy, and the fact that my first manuscript sale is unlikely to make me independently wealthy (sure, I can dream, but I can buy lottery tickets and not win, too), this is probably a good thing long-term… but with the aforementioned Artist demanding so much of my energy, as well as demanding ever-higher levels of performance and observation from me as we go, it’s a full-on brain screw when it comes to the imaginary world in my head.
Acknowledging that the work situation is not going to change any time soon, the simple truth is that business will never be my Art — there’s never been any question about that, and if that’s a self-imposed limitation, I can live with it. With that established, then, the key to reclaiming my own Artistry has to be regaining control of my own time, and the only way I can think of to do that under the pressures of work is by adopting and maintaining a strict schedule. With regular 12-hour days sapping my energy, nights are lost except for mindless media consumption, so I have to claim the mornings as my own. This means resisting the siren song of online gaming for overly late evenings, it means not throwing the alarm clock at the wall during the early mornings, and somehow working out how not to get wretchedly motion-sick while writing on the bus (something I’ll gladly take hints regarding, if anyone has any).
…of course, it’ll be much harder to establish these habits this holiday season, as I fully expect to engage in some bad behavior (and, by the way, have thoroughly earned the opportunity to misbehave over the last year!). But when the New Year comes and the feces begin to impact the rotating oscillator yet again, at least I know I have a plan.
