Run Along

(Photo courtesy of Leigh at Larrapin Garden)

Wouldn't you know it? Write a post about commitment and then don't post anything else for a month. Good grief. Your followers won't believe you if you don't practice what you preach. The excuse-maker in me wants to holler, "Wait! I've been working on getting my book published!" The book is not my blog, and I must be true to the blog so I can stay in touch with you, fearless creative.

Today, my new book of poems, my first full book of poetry—A Little Lazarus—is going to press. It is a day for celebration; a day to rejoice! But also a day to post on my blog site. Here's our timely topic: How will you know when the editing is done and you can tell that darn critic to run along? What fun creative pursuit will help you "rest" when your mind is pretty much taken over by the alien (at least for me) that is our necessary and often unappreciated inner editor? You know them; the guy or gal who moves in to help us polish a piece of work. First, thank them for coming. The editor/critic is not my favorite guest, but I do appreciate that they show up when invited. If you follow my grandmother's rule that guests and fish stink after 3 days, then you'll know when to tell them to leave.

You may ask yourself, as do many creatives, how will I know when I'm done, when it's perfect? If you let go of the "perfect" part, I think you'll know. There is no perfect work of art: no Dickens or Dickinson, no Gaugin or Picasso, no Rodin, no Bach or Beethoven or Mozart (well, maybe Mozart but he was crazy) ever created anything perfect; the work that completely satisfied their inner critic. That's why it's art. It is first and foremost, human. Even in Nature, look closely enough and you will see that the Great Creator loves the little mistakes just as much, if not more, than what appears perfect. Sometimes we call that evolution.

I guess knowing when to tell the critic to "run along now" takes time to learn, but I don't remember at what point I learned it. Maybe it was a special gift for a special needs writer. The Muse said, "Bless you child. You write so much and never seem to know when you have enough words on the page. I will touch you with my wand so that when you go to edit, you'll at least know when you've done all you can and quit." Basically, I just stop. I make my adjustments three or four times, then I quit reading the damn poem and put it in the publisher's capable hands.I am in a hurry, you see, to tell the critic to "run along." I want to do something I don't have to think about so much.

And I always keep something going that I don't have to think about while I'm editing a body of work. As I see it, one of the terrible things that happened to the human race was that our brains outgrew our hearts. This has gotten the world in a terrible predicament. That's why everyone, from Wall Street bankers to BP oil executives; from Army Generals to LA gang members (are you feeling me President Obama?) need to write some poems or paint some pictures; especially of what they have screwed up. We all screw up and writing or making art about it will help you not repeat the same mistake twice. We need to know when to quit., in more ways than one. Because we have made such a habit of perfectionism, getting our critic to run along when the time comes takes practice.

If we don't know or learn when to tell the Editor to run along, we cannot let go of perfecting our work. And if we don't admit at some point that the work can't be perfect, that it will never be perfect, then we can't let the work go out into the world where it belongs. Ahhh...the hidden agenda. This is the perfectionist's pay-off. You never have to share what you have created. You must admit that the world would be pretty unstimulating if all the creative geniuses didn't finally learn when to let go and let the work fly on its own merits.

This is what we must do, too. One way to do this is to always keep something fun going on the side. It may be creative work you don't usually do. If you're a writer editing, then take some photos or play with clay. If you're a sculptor, start your memoirs. If you're a poet, write an essay on why you will never write another poem. Whatever. Make it fun and keep it light-hearted. Tell your critic to run along for some portion of each day. After three days, or three revisions, and everything starts to stink, heck, tell them to run along for good, or at least until you invite them back again.

(If you like to join us on the HOWL facebook page click here: http://www.facebook.com/howl.openmic. To get A Creative Life blog posts via email, look at the top right of the blog for the subscription box! )