It's All in The Process
Written by Patrick Green
Here in the UK when the first lockdown hit in March 2020 social media was flooded with people in their front rooms or gardens doing ‘stuff.’ I’ll keep the vague term ‘stuff’ as there was such a wide range of things people were doing (and telling each other about). Whether it be learning an instrument, reading that pile of dusty books, running, home workouts, cooking … anything and everything were suddenly being tackled. People tried to brand the lockdown as a space for self-improvement. The empty hours were precious: irredeemable if missed this time around. Two lockdowns later and this sentiment had vanished. We were sick of the time for self-improvement, preferring the preciousness of downtime and stillness rather than finding it mundane.
Throughout this period I found myself (and still find myself) in a constant self-evaluation, as well as a wider inspection of the relationship between this surplus in time, ‘rest,’ and stillness, which many people were given. I was expecting to finally write that novel I had threatened for so long, or the collection of poetry which I am convinced is lying in some cobwebbed corner of my mind. With the distractions of pubs, cinemas, restaurants, events - rather, any form of social life - gone, what possible excuse could there have been to not be productive?
But it’s this self-posed question which nags. I don’t think I’ve written a brand new poem in half a year, and anything I have done has tended to be a mish-mash of old work or just a minor reworking of some existing poem. There is a tendency for writers (and I imagine creative people in general) to beat themselves up and to be hypercritical. Of work both done and not done. Anything completed probably isn’t good enough whilst anytime not spent working on your craft is guilt laced. Add this to being a part of a capitalist system and it is worsened tenfold. Artistic expression is hyper-commercial; and if it isn’t it is often side-lined, frowned upon, or not taken seriously. Perhaps less so in our generation, as I admire people I know who have not sacrificed their creativity and I envy those who manage to make a living out of it. But this relationship between ‘making a living’ (or at least something, let alone a living) and creativity is potentially very damaging.
I’ve recently begun to explore more of this realm of profit. A friend messaged me to ask if I could help him write a letter or poem to his newfound love, which I of course agreed to for a fee (If anyone needs this service please get in touch). But, it does also highlight that you can 100% earn money from writing and art more broadly, and this should not under any circumstances be seen negatively. We should advocate for more financial stability in the arts, but with the precaution that this can potentially blur the lines when it comes to staying true to yourself as an artist whilst making a living. But then, do these lines even exist, or is this a wholly elitist and privileged notion? I suppose I’ll have more to say as I experiment with the process.
Needless to say, the idea of productivity which exists in workplaces, schools, universities have seeped into leisure too. This is why I mention at the beginning this value which was ascribed to time during the initial lockdown. We were not allowed to take in the deep breath that so many people probably needed, nor were we allowed to ‘capitalize’ on the freedom of our time (I recognize many people, myself included, continued to work - when I say ‘freedom of time’ I refer to having complete empty downtime). We were instead driven to do stuff. For me, this only exacerbated the feelings of guilt surrounding my writer's block, and I’d be interested to see if this resonates with anyone else.
I was faced with disposable time, bags of it, and yet I still couldn’t find that inspiration or drive. You may now actually be questioning whether I am even a writer, which is what I am still doing, even as I write this. The commercialization of time in our living rooms or bedrooms then meant there was a pressure ascribed to our creativity, sealing the cursed handshake between perceived productivity and creativity itself.
My thought pattern became increasingly centered on this idea that if I am not constantly writing (or producing) then I am not a proper writer at all. But this is just another face to imposter syndrome which has been fed by new toxic productivity. It made me forget that on a personal level writing is an expression of emotion that cannot come out any other way, a new set of signs and signifiers which we can utilize to present personal meaning and connect others to it. But it was only having to face this newly intensified imposter syndrome that allowed me to rediscover the reason for writing.
During the last year or so I have entered survival mode; we have existed in the most unnatural circumstances that we’ve known, whilst navigating our lives which went on. I have potentially neglected to process everything that has happened on a personal level on the global scale, but I have also had none of the emotional energy (and probably resilience) to do this. Beating myself up for not wanting to process this in the form of a poem is not something I have felt particularly called to do, funnily enough. The year has been hard enough for so many people, and adding an extra layer of shame or guilt is not something we should look to do. I have just had to learn to give myself a break - or hundreds if I’m being honest.
And in the spirit of honest self-reflection, I have to face up to the chance that I might just be really lazy. This whole piece may just be a way of excusing my lack of motivation and procrastinating from simply reading or writing again. But even if that is the case, I have found that writing is often very seasonal. Perhaps it is just best to honor the lack of a call to write, as there may not be anything for me to write at the moment – another cop-out I know. Perhaps it is more than alright to take your time, and to take chances when it feels right. Disposable time can be used however you like, and that’s part of the intimidation of it all. As writers, and as people who’ve experienced an unprecedented block of time, and a reframing of how we use our space, it is important to honor ourselves throughout each endeavor, even if it takes us months to finally start.