Artist with a Capital A
I am an artist, with a capital A.
That simple declaration is harder than it looks to say. Therefore, this post is part manifesto and part positive affirmation so it's out in the world and not just in my head.
The U.S. values paid work. So much that we don't even take all the paltry vacation days we're offered. Winners get noticed; losers get humiliated. Billionaires measure the size of their bits with their balance sheets. As Claire Taylor described in her excellent book, Reclaim Your Author Career*, American culture is very much achievement/reward-oriented.
Too many high-achievers clearly believe their own hard work brought their success. Not privilege, not family, and certainly not luck. Getting ahead must be visible and objectively measurable. How, they ask, can a mural or song or poem be measured if it doesn't have a dollar value?
Artists Don't Get an A
It has only recently occurred to me, based on a sweet compliment from a former coworker, that I've never fully appreciated being called an artist (in the “artistic soul” sense). I suspect this came from my parents because they didn't think “art” paid the rent. To be fair, this was a not-unreasonable belief.
The idea that the arts are frivolous gets communicated early. Politicians declare that “everyone knows” the arts aren't as important as math/history/science. The first classes to get cut in U.S. public schools are art, music, and theatre. College presidents remind us that, when it comes to “extracurriculars,” at least sporting events pay their way by selling lots of tickets. As I said above, winners get noticed.
I think one of my unspoken base rules in life has been that the business of life comes first, and artistic activities are luxuries for my spare time. But lately, I have come to believe that's not really true. Art — such as writing stories — is worth doing because I am an Artist, dammit, and I love making art.
Art Comes First
I love the inspiration and the creative impulse, and shaping them both into the vision in my head. I like sharing my art with others so readers and audiences and appreciators can come on this journey with me.
So, how do I make this happen? Well, it starts with prioritizing my current work in progress and starting the next story. My life won't fall apart because business comes in second or even third. And because writing is a slower process for me, I can add quicker Artist With A Capital A wins, such as making tie-dye shirts for my friends, singing in Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, or painting rocks to put in my garden.
The trick will be, of course, to embrace that “I am an artist with a capital A” every day. This is fundamental identity work. I'll have to consciously change my mindset each day, even though I have to go to the gym, have lunch with a friend, teach a Tai chi class, pay the bills, and buy special cat food for my spoiled darlings.
As I first heard from Becca Syme, change is hard; if it was easy, everyone would do it. But I must make this change, or stories will never get written.
And the stories in my head want to be written.
*Claire Taylor's Reclaim Your Author Career and the sequel, Sustain Your Author Career, explain how Enneagrams can help you understand your base emotional operating system. The books focus on authors, but would be enlightening to anyone with an independent business in the arts. I highly recommend them.
Writing is also an Art. You brought that intrinsic artistic bent to your tech writing work. Doing it well, as you did, takes a lot of talent and skill. Perhaps those of us who noticed didn’t always express our appreciation as much as we should have.
Thanks for your kind words. 😸