Lullabies for Demons #1

Burn it.

So, where were we?

I remember something about washing my pjs…did I actually write about that, or did I dream it? (Find out here!)

In any case, I remember the important point: getting started. AKA staring down that terrifying emptiness called “I need to start working on my…novel, painting, song, lobotomy…” Wait, no, not the last one. The last one you definitely shouldn’t do. But the other ones, yeah.

So, do that. Y’know. Just start. See ya next week.

I’m kidding, but really, why isn’t it that simple? If I yearn to make art, why in the name of Frieda can’t I get myself to do it???

I’ve found that just making it to my workspace is half the battle. I’m in enough of a habit that if I’m in that environment, my body just starts performing whatever ritual I have for getting started. (Which, btw, is one of the reasons it’s so important to make a habit of it. Just the habit will get you a long way.) With oil painting it’s setting a palette and deciding what I’m going to work on. And there is a soothing physicality to this, like showing up to your yoga mat and doing a sun salute. You can kinda turn off your brain and let the water heat up a bit before you plunge in…

But maybe you’re staring down a blank screen with that impatient asshole of a cursor just standing there tapping its asshole foot. Now, you can let that fucker intimidate you while you stare into the abyss of a 0 word count blizzard of white or moonless night of black (I write on a black screen. Because I know you were dying to know.)

Or you can do what I do:

Take him by surprise. Just punch him in the mouth with whatever first comes into your mind. Then while he’s down, kick him with the next sentence that presents itself to you. Step by step, each word will present itself just in time.

The way to guarantee this is to give absolutely stone zero fucks about the quality what is actually being written. That is not for writer K to care about. That is for editor K to care about.

Editor K is a very different person. We don’t like her much. She says things like: “That was awfully violent. That might not sit right with people.” And “200 words describing that donut you had? Seriously?”

That’s why we never invite her to our super fun writing parties because she’s all “OMG do you have to be so loud? Do you have to curse so much?”

The fact that we never invite her may have something to do with why she’s so bitchy, but there’s nothing we can do about it. It just has to be this way.

Otherwise we’ll*¹ get all puckered up and never write anything interesting. Or we’ll come to believe something incredibly stupid like “I have to drink in order to be creative,” that will just go on to ruin everything. (Trust me on that one.)

This here? This is completely sober fuckery right here.

…so while editor K might seem like she just needs a Xanax and maybe to get laid, she’s actually the reason I can just type out whatever pops into my head like my fingers have Tourette’s. For instance she’s the one who considered whether that simile is offensive to people with Tourettes*²

So, cut her some slack.

The truth is that the trust that Writer K and Editor K have established is what makes all this possible.

But we’ll talk more about that in later posts.

For now we’re going to do a little exercise that has helped me get my head right for creating in the past.

This can take as little as 5 minutes or as long as you like.

Grab any mark-making implement. I like cheap ballpoint pens. Like that one you didn’t mean to steal from the bank. For paper, use whatever. (When I was really broke I drew on used envelopes and packaging paper. Sometimes I still use the backside that whole tree’s worth of paper that they give you with every prescription you ever get.)

It’s actually best to use something cheap for this exercise.

If you’re a writer, write a page. Don’t overthink it. Don’t worry about spelling or grammar. What to write about? Literally anything. It can be a soliloquy about how much you hate your boss or a sonnet about The Walking Dead, it doesn’t matter.

If you want to draw, draw me a page of whatever: A page of colored bubbles, your cat piloting an airplane, my cat piloting an airplane…Actually I should say “draw yourself a page,” because I’m never gonna see this. Nor is anyone else.

Why?

Cuz we’re gonna fuckin burn it. (safely.)

or rip it up, bury it in the yard, throw it in the trash, throw it in a wood chipper *³ (safely)

⁴

Personally, I’m a fan of burning. (And safety!)

Why?

I tell you to burn something and you need a reason? Jeez. I thought we were friends.

Fine.

The “why” is to induce the mindset of: “process over product.” I’m not saying there’s never gonna be a product. But first we need to re-wire our brains real quick.

Okay, it’s not real quick. This shit takes time, but if you trust me on this one, it might help you unclench just a tad. (If you’re already all unclenched and ready to make shit, why are you here? Go make something.)

This is not just a symbolic act about impermanence and detachment. We’re literally building new neural pathways that don’t associate making a piece of art with y’know, judging the shit out of yourself. Maybe you don’t have that problem. Hell, I don’t know you. But if you do. Just know, yeah, it ain’t just you, pal.

The point I’m babbling my way to is to be less precious with the art and more precious with the artist. Because you are the important thing. You are the irreplaceable thing. The work is just the work. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it can be made better, sometimes it just needs to be scrapped.

And in the end, no one can agree on what’s good anyway, so why torture yourself?

We’re going to talk more about this exercise and what it’s about next week, but for now, will you do me a favor and just give it a shot?

And I would love it if you let me know how it went for you when you do.

Love and Hisses,

K

1. By “we”I mean the inner tribal council of K’naz. It’s a full house in this brain.

2. Is it? We can’t agree. But I just learned that the type of Tourette syndrome that I’m referring to here is called “coprolalia” and is quite rare.

3. I know some of these options aren’t available for everyone, but I bet you can think of an appropriate way to destroy it.

Believe me, I’ve written things that were so bad I wanted to burn down my computer. Then I remembered the delete key. Saved me a lot of cash.

4. Sorry, I just learned how to put in footnotes and now I can’t stop.