Art Under Pressure: It's a Teamwork Thing

What separates the part-time artist from the full-time pro?

Attention to detail, stress management, and teamwork.
Believe me, I’d love to spend all day every day just writing songs, playing music, and sitting behind a board, but art isn’t worth much if you don’t put it somewhere where the public can buy it, or put their money into it. So, more and more I’ve learned, you have to be the businesswoman first, and the artist second. Get hired on with a well-established band, or get ready to do it yourself. These days, the labels are going under, symphonies are declaring bankruptcy and scrambling for funding, and most tours are temporary contracts that last max, for a couple of years.

This means, as musicians, it’s up to us to take charge of keeping our careers going past the next contract. Here’s a short list of things I’ve used to do this:

• Going back to college to take accounting classes so you can manage your books and run your business.
  
• Taking marketing classes if you can’t afford to hire a publicist, and/or shelling out the dough for a good PR guy.
  
• Getting your brain around technology, so you can design, maintain, or envision a website for your business.
  
• Get really good at finding others who believe in your art as much as you do, and getting them to work for you, put their money behind you, or otherwise give you a giant shove into success.
  
• Have amazing people skills so you can schmooze and make contacts
  
• Not be afraid to take the risks and commit to the the things no one else in your industry dares do… in the odds the it will work out for you, because your just that nuts, and you’re just that good.
  
• Have self-esteem that can be stepped on, crushed, broken, and is tougher and more obnoxiously hardy than any weed in your front lawn. Keep bouncing back no matter how many rejections you get, or how many pitfalls you find.
  
• And, last but not least comes the fun part… still finding time to do your artwork. Only once you have conquered all these little but essential details for a long time, and done it well, will you find yourself in a position to delegate most of these tasks to someone else.
  

I’m sitting in a Starbucks at the moment. All around me are Los Angelinos stopping n for coffee and breakfast. Almost every single one of them is on the phone talking filming, chatting with each other about the next scene they have to shoot, complaining about how they were on set late last night… This is just business as usual for this amazing city. All of us, to some degree or another, are related to the entertainment biz. Disney is a mile down the street, NBC is closer, and Worner Brothers is there, too. I love living right in the thick of it. But it takes so many people to make one musician, one record, one film or celebrity a success.

I’m down to the wire on a current contract right now, in that mad adrenaline rush to get it all don and perfect before the looming release date. I love the rush, live for the stress and the pressure, but it always reminds me forcefully of just how heavily any artist depends on the business side of things, and on her colleagues to get the artwork done.

Writers need editors, agents, publishers, booksellers, publicists, marketing, art directors, cover artists… copy editors and printers. Musicians need recording engineers, producers, other session players, publicists, event planners, graphic designers, photographers, marketing coordinators, distribution labels or companies, venue coordinators, managers, attorneys… film people need lighting, direction, sound guys, makeup and costuming, directors, producers, film editors, cameramen… you get where I am going here.

It takes all of these people to make one thing! it takes money, it takes time, it takes unflagging guts and dedication, but most of all, it takes perseverance, and business smarts. If you are wondering what it takes to make it in this business, grow a thick skin, get ready to lose a lot of sleep, and never break your cool cucumber exterior. Work well under stress, get good at a myriad of things, and swallow your pride. Most of all, put a good team around you who knows what it takes to do the art work, and who believes in you more than you believe in yourself, most days. If you can do all that, and still have a good love life… You stand a pretty good chance of success. :-d

-Sassy

News Flash! Jason Hemmens debut single out now, Sassy outwater, executive producer

What do you get when you combine Sassy Outwater’s signature production style with the edgy, cool sounds of master songwriter and musician Jason Hemmens? Go find out.

Jason has released his debut single “The Sun Don’t Shine Anymore,” from his album “Welcome to reality,” due out on December 8, 2009. I’ve been producing the album with him, and I promise, this thing will blow your mind. It’s pop, jazz, rock and funk, a trip into the unexpected. Ever heard sax with edgy electric guitars and the vocal stylings of a modern-day Prince? Another song will be coming soon. Jason recorded with members of the Los Angeles Children’s Chorus to benefit Retinoblastoma International, a children’s eye cancer charity.

We will need your help to make that song go as far as it can to help cancer kids and their families around the world.

Sign up for Jason’s newsletter on his site to receive the latest news of events, music and all kinds of fun stuff. Please help by spreading the word. This is an independent release on Jason’s own label, Fan2C Records, and to keep the music coming the way you like it, we need your help. Word of mouth is our best advertising tool, and you are our best marketing resource. If you like what you hear, share the link to his website or mine on facebook, myspace, twitter, your blogs, everywhere you can think of. Get the word out, and help us make music to change the world!

Enjoy the single, and count down with us to the release of this album. It’s going to be incredible, I promise that much.

Thanks for all your love and support! Now, go listen, enjoy, and spread the Hemmens Fever to all you know!

Remember, please, that an artist is made by his or her fans. Jason and I are living our dreams, because of you, the fans. Please live your dreams—that is our wish to you.

With love,

-Sass

Going to the Dogs: Labrador Vs. Chihuahua. Which artist are You?

Going to the Dogs: Labrador Vs. Chihuahua
Which artist are you?

My Guide Dog, Kody, and I were crossing the street when a woman passed us walking two Chihuahuas. Toy chihuahuas. Little tiny things no bigger than my hand.

The dogs began growling and scrabbling at the pavement, trying to reach my sixty pound yellow Labrador Guide Dog, who promptly dove for cover beneath my skirt, and hid his face in my leg in stark terror. The itty bitty menaces were ten feet away, and yet my seasoned, fearless Guide Dog was reduced to a huddled up, crumpled pile of furry terror in the face of all that yapping, snapping power. Hmmm… not quite sure what that says about Kodak’s ability to fight off monsters, but I am sure of one thing.

We as artists are just as bad as Kody! How many times have you read through an opera score and wanted to play the leading character, but thought to yourself, “There is no way in hell I’d ever be cast for that role; I am just not good enough.” You’ve had years and years of training, you bring down the house when you do recitals, but somehow auditioning for the role of your dreams is tabeau? Yeah, you’re Kody.

Have you been ogling a window in a high-end gallery every time you walk by, envisioning your paintings hanging there with a hundred thousand dollar price tag attached? And then you go home, and refuse to pick up a paintbrush because if you took that much time away from the kids, you’d be a bad parent. Yeah, You are Kody, too.

Maybe you pick up the New York Times and scan the lists, and choke on your morning coffee because you wish it was your name on that page with the number one bestseller. Or you wish it was you walking onto that stage at the Grammy’s and holding that shiny trophy in your hot little hands. But your guitar sits collecting dust rather than fingerprints, and your finished novel sits in the closet because you can’t stand the thought of another rejection letter. You are Kody, too!

Stop hiding your face out of tiny little inconsequential fears, and start doing your job! Kodak faces down buses, huge airplanes, and things as a Guide dog that would make most of us cringe! He never flinches when a truck rumbles by inches from his paws. He just leads me fearlessly wherever life takes us. So should your creativity as an artist lead you. You have too much to do to let a little thing like fear snap and snarl at you, sending you scurring to an imagined safe haven. Kodak, after realizing that mom wasn’t going to whip out a flaming sword and slay the advancing villains, got himself under control, and realized that he had to be a big strong Guide dog. It was up to him to save his human from the scourges of little dogs, by guiding her safely away. :-d

Was Kody in danger from two walking pipsqueak bad guys? Not a chance. Are you in danger if you audition, or paint for that window spot or write? No. Will you be embarrassed if you don’t get the part the first time you audition? Yes, and the second and the third time… it’s called rejection. It’s part of being an artist. Eventually, when you learn it’s only a little nip, and it doesn’t leave your throat cut open, you’ll get up and do it again. You will if you love your art enough.

Things like fear, rejection—things that hold you back from getting your art where you want it to go, they are the chihuahuas, and you are the Big strong Guide Dog. Or are the roles reversed. Are you going to be the little guy barking at the weirdest things and chasing after things a zillion times bigger than you?

Some days you’re the windshield, and some days you’re the bug. Some days you’re the Guide dog, and some days, You are the Chihuahua.

Learning from the Masters: Timing is Everything

I am an avid reader, but often times, I get a few pages into a book, and drop it because I “can’t get into it.” Either the characters don’t appeal to me, or I’ve figured the plot out already, or there’s not enough reality to make the book believable… A good book is like a good song. You know after the first few bars of a song if this is something you want to stick around for or not. You either sing along, turn it up and rock out, or make a grab for the skip button.

One of the keys to art is timing. And lately, as we flood the bookshelves and music download sites with product, timing gets lost in our drive to put product out. Okay, do not get me wrong here… I’m under deadlines, too, I have to make money doing this, so I’m all about that bottom line, but beneath that business side of me lurks the perpetual artist. Have you ever stood in front of an impressionist painting in a museum, and seen faces, and turned to leave, thinking you were bored? Then, just as you drew your eyes away… something made you look again. You stand there for several minutes, engrossed in watching the light play on the brush strokes, waiting for whatever-it-is to appear again. Slowly, the silhouette of a magnificent woman emerges through the blurred lines. No matter what artform you work with, writing, painting, performing… we all have to be the masters of timing, so that just when the person thinks those faces are not worth a second glance the light glimmers on a strand of the woman’s hair, and the onlooker gasps in understanding and surprised wonder.

Two of my favorite masters of artistic timing are Pieter Tchaikovsky and Brandon Sanderson. They are masters, specifically, of the climax. No, I know where your mind is wandering… please retrieve it before it falls into the gutter… I mean that edge-of-your-seat, is-it-going-to-end-like-that, I-can’t-take-one-more-sus-chord/sword-swing climax. How many times do you listen to a symphony or concerto by the brilliant Russian composer and know that he’s going to end it there--and suddeny he sends it off in a whole new direction and you’re left wondering what happened? Brandon Sanderson, author of the Mistborn fantasy series, does the same exact thing with words that Tchaikovsky does with music. They slowly work their way into your mind, messin with your emotions so subtlely that by the time you notice, oops, it’s too late, you’ve been bewitched, and you can’t help but turn that next page or shush your chattering date so you can hear the next note of the cello.

The master artist takes his time, and isn’t concerned with how long it takes to get your attention. He knows he has you from the get go. He can afford, not by virtuie of his meager paycheck, but by virtue of his total command of his art, to take his time and set up every little detail just the way he wants it. Like dominos, when the finale falls, the words or notes do so seamlessly, spectacularly, in perfect rhythm with your emotions. He moves beyond that place of fear-driven creation, and into a form of art fueled by the subject itself.

Brandon Sanderson takes six hundred pages to tell his story, but you know from page one that you’ve picked up something worth reading. Every page demands your attention, lest you miss that one little detail that seals the whole thing together. Every scene makes a difference, every word leads you one step closer to that cliff-hanging conclusion. Then he throws you headfirst over the edge of the cliff… and leaves you dangling there for a while… before jerking you up again by a single thread, only to throw you over again just to make you squirm. He takes his time, setting every character’s thought, every nuance of the world he has created, so that you get hopelessly sucked in. The story may seem to drag, but you keep turning the pages, and making your eyes (or fingers or ears) read every word, even in the slow parts, just so you know that one little detail that makes the whole book make sense at the end. These are the kind of books where you can’t just flip to the last chapter and read ahead to learn what happens when things get boring. A: you’ll have no idea what’s going on, and B: you don’t want to miss a thing along the way because there are thousand little climaxes hidden on the way to the big one! It’s like a literary wedding night or fireworks show; the sum of the parts is greater than the whole.

And Tchaikovsky’s even worse! Talk about a wild ride! Just when you think you’ve figured out the melody, he builds it, note by note, horn by horn, beat by agonizingly drawn-out beat until the orchestra has you in a musical strangle-hold… and then it drops back to a single violin letting out one haunting note, and that whole building process starts all over. You can’t help but glance at the program and wonder if you moved into the next movement of the symphony, but no, not enough time has elapsed… and the conductor’s hand never dropped.

Just when you get yourself oriented to this new melodic idea, he builds it up again, letting the cellos break your heart, and the French horn set you on edge and the drums shake you apart… and then he drops it suddenly to a complete caesura. Finally, just when you’re about to burst… A lone clarinet gives rise to a whole new idea. And over, and over he works his magic on your mind and ears, building just a little bit with each successive melodic motif until they all culminate at the end, leaving you breathless, holding your clenched hands together, begging for release. He draws each note of the final climax and resolution out with slow ecstasy, milking every last emotion out of you with a practiced hand, and a well-placed formata or two. Playing his music is spectacular, but sitting in the audience, hearing a good orchestra do it… is indescribable.

Both men have complete command of their art form, to the point where you can only witness it and marvel, and enjoy the art for what it is. When I read Sanderson’s books, I know that the long journey, the myriad details and the cruel twists and turns add up to a momentus gestalt worth every minute I spent reading. Likewise, listening to Tchaikovsky’s music--whether ballet, symphony, concerto or song--leaves me in awe of what a masterful hand can do with a few simple notes and a vast array of sounds.

In my own artwork, I can strive to emulate these men, creating not for the sake of productivity, but for the sake of the product itself. Not for the sake of fear, but for the sake of joy. Know that the art will be enough if you let it lead you. Follow real human emotions, perceptions and logic, and the art that results will captivate you audience.

So who are your favorite artistic masters, and why?

-Sassy

Shedding fear: Learning to parent your artwork

Whoa!! Sorry! It’s been way too long since I’ve been on here!

The family reunion was brilliant; it was wonderful to relax, spend time with family, and enjoy the beautiful Cape Cod scenery and food all at the same time!

I came home rested, bug-bitten, sunburned and rejuvenated. Then the madness of catching up with work set in, one thing led to another, and well… I just checked the last date of my blog posts, and… yeah, oops!

So on to today’s topic: parenting your artwork. Yep, I’m going there. :-d

Every artist knows that feeling. That picture, that sculpture, song, poem, design… It’s YOUR baby! And it has to be Perfect! No note out of tune, no line blurred, no scratch blemishing the surface… And Heaven forbid anyone say it’s flawed!

Think of your artistic creations like kids. They have lives of their own, and hard as you try, you can’t control them; you can only make them, and guide them, then stand back and hope for the best.

No matter how much you edit, how hard you practice, how many hours you slave over it, perfection will elude you. Get ready to hear the critics speak. Get ready to take rejection. Get ready to bite your lip and listen to feedback with an open mind… Cuz you’re gonna get it. It’s the nature of the business, baby, and believe it or not, it means growth. Nobody is perfect, and consequently, neither is your art. But it’s yours, and if you don’t believe in it in spite of the criticism and rejection, no one will. Just like parenting. Yep, you will have to spend the money, you’ll get bad report cards, you will even get messes and bad behavior no matter how often you scold and nag. Get used to it. It’s all part of artistic parenting.

At some point, be ready to let your baby fly, and let go. Then develop a thick skin, and tough it out; it’s part of being an artist. You will hear “No.” You will hear “Bad.” You will hear “expensive.” And you wil feel hurt, frustrated and angry. There is no way around it; there is no cure for it; and if you can’t tough it out, art is not the long-term career for you. Being a professional artist takes savvy, courage and obstinacy. When the rest of the world says no, you have to be able to look your artwork in the heart, and say “YES!” Believe in your work so completely that nothing and no one can shake your determination. Practice resiliency. Listen to the feedback you get. It’s necessary, hard as it is to hear.

Go artistically where the money is, or you won’t last long. It may mean you have to write romance instead of fantasy, or play pop instead of blues, but if you want to make a living at art, you have to be flexible and roll with the cravings and needs of your audience. Your art defines you, but your flexability defines your paycheck.

Last but not least, the best artists are business people. Know your industry, know the ins, the outs, the whos, the whats and the hows. Know the wheres and whens, and be there. Success doesn’t often come knocking on your door and invite itself in. You have to put yourself out there, and do the work. If you know a ton of music execs are showing up to a friend’s show tomorrow night, show up dressed for success, and with your demo in hand. Let them see your face and know your name. If you hear of an audition, go sit in the rain for 6 hours and dance, then do the same thing the next day before the same judge. Eventually, she’ll realize you’re dedicated, and it’ll be another star in you book with her, even though your style isn’t quite what she’s looking for. She’s more likely to call the face she knows then the one girl who shows up once and does well. Just because one publisher rejects you doesn’t mean your work is bad; it may just not be what they have the budget to sell right now.

So, to sum up, you do have a parental role in the creative process, but know where to be flexible, and know where to stand strong. Toughen up, shed your fear, do the work, follow your dreams, and wake up to reality. Then… let go!

Cape Cod Blog: Outwater Family reunion under way!

Greetings from the Cape!

I’m lying in bed right now in a hundred year old house, overlooking Horseshoe Bay and the larger Pleasant Bay on the shores of Cape Cod, Ma. The sun is just barely creeping into my room, and I am listening to the rain pouring down outside my window, and the thunder grumbling in the distance. Tide is on the way out. It’s been up all night, and I could hear it rolling in and out, like listening to your lover breathing in bed beside you. Every once in a while, a gentle breeze will reach her hand through the open window to toy with my hair and spread it across the pillows. Kody is curled up beside me, snoozing, happy as a clam.

WE got here last night just in time to enjoy the first of our family dinners at this reunion… Let me explain an Outwater reunion for those of you not familiar with my humungous family…

My grandparents on my dad’s side had six kids, who all married, went off and had kids of their own, who are just now beginning to marry. We live all over the place, and our reunions happen once every two years, always in the same place at the same time. It’s been that way as long as I can remember.

So, there’s about thirty Outwater descendants who fly in, and pack into one giant house for a week every other summer.:-d It’s quite the event.

WE always stay in the same house. It’s a big, rambling Cape Cod style house built in 1906 by a doctor and his wife. It sits on a peninsula, surrounded by a backwater bay on three sides, bordered by a marsh on the fourth side. The house has ten bedrooms, some big, and others just large enough for a bed, dresser and chair.

It’s one of those houses where one footstep echoes through the whole house, thumping on the hardwood floors. We have all generations covered at these reunions, from ages five, to eighty-six, and everyting in between. Some of us grandkids are out of college, and some are just starting kindergarten. So, some of us are up at 6 AM, and some sleep in until noon (which makes life very confusing and funny.) Stuff thirty Outwaters, a Guide dog, all kinds of interests and personalities and a whole lot of love into one house, and the resulting cacophony never ceases! I love it.

A beautiful porch wraps around three sides of the house. We spend most of the day outside, on the rocky beach watching birds and fish, or relaxing on the porch chatting and reading.

The dining room has a table big enough to seat all of us. The uproar at our nightly dinner has to be heard to be believed, but grace at our table, with all of us holding hands, passing a kiss, and toasting each other is truly magical.

Every room has windows thrown wide to the sea breeze, and the smell of salt and old weathered wood is thick in the air.

I don’t know which I love more. Being in this house, a place I love so dearly, or being around all my family at one time. Or perhaps it’s the enchantment of the combination that makes this my favorite place in the world.

There’s an old out of tune baby grand piano in the living room. I can sit there for hours, and even through the out of tune keys, I can pick out melodies that bring out the best side of my songwriting. There’s something about this place that sends my art catapaulting to a whole new level every time I come here. Is it any wonder that “art” can be found in heart??? :-d The two are inextricably linked, I’ve learned. Where my heart feels cared for and full, my art will flourish.

Now it’s late afternoon, and I’m sitting in the dining room with the sun on my back, and the sound of an awsprey hunting cry drifting through the open window. We went for a beautiful sail, and I just spent a day lounging and relaxing, reading, catching up with family, enjoying the beautiful weather. Tomorrow, I’ll probably swim the narrows with my uncle, or go for a long walk through the woods with Kody.

Tonight, I’m looking forward to a huge lobster feast. My sister and cousins are in the kitchen making a hot pink lobster to go on my grandmother’s birthday cake. Kids are down at the beach digging clams, taking turns learning to sail with my uncle, or seeing how much sand they can track into the house. Dad’s grilling corn… Grandma is herding grandkids, and yet more grandkids are running upstairs, chasing each other. no matter where you go, there’s something fun to be found, and someone fun to do it with.

Love from Heaven on earth,

-Sassy

What is the Secret of artistic Success?

I heard a very inspiring talk at a church event this week, and I wanted to pass it on to you.

There was an old man, a wise man. Perhaps the wisest man in the world. He was seen by the entire world as sitting at the pinnacle of success in every aspect of his life.

A young man decided to go to the old wise man and ask what the secret to success was. Wouldn’t we all like to know that one?

“What is the secret to success?” he asked.

The old man smiled and said: “hatif tiwohut srwok seidad.”

“What?” said the younger man. “I don’t know that language.”

“Yes, you do,” the old man replied. “I’ll tell you a story, then you must go off for a year and think about it. AT the end of the year, come back and tell me what you’ve learned.

“There are two young men I know of,” the old man recited. “Both want to be doctors. One has read every book ever written about medicine, watched every film ever made, and talked to every doctor he could find. The other studied hard, and in every way he could, prepared himself for his training as a doctor thrugh learning and public service.

“Now go an ponder,” the old man said.

The next year, the young man returned, discouraged, to sit at the feet of the old wise man. “I can’t figure it out,” he sighed.

“Tell me what you’ve learned so far,” the old man said in a kind and patient voice.

“Prepare yourself in all things?”

The old man shook his head and smiled. “That is important,” he replied, “but it is not quite the secret of success. I’ll tell you another story,” he said. “Come back in a year and again, tell me what you have discovered.

“Two children were with their mothers, shopping for the holidays, when they saw a homeless family huddled in the cold under a bridge, beneath ragged blankets, with no food, and a tiny fire for warmth and light. Both children asked their parents what the family was doing sitting out in the cold.

“The mothers explained sadly that the family had no home to live in. They had no money to buy food, and no holiday gifts to look forward to.

“The first child went home, and sat before the Christmas tree in his living room. He looked at all the presents with his name on them stacked beneath that tree. He thought about what it must feel like to be a boy with no presents on Christmas, and he grew very sad. He ate his Christmas dinner, and thought about how awful it would be to have no food to eat.

“The second child finished shopping with her mother. When they got home, she went immediately to the kitchen, and began gathering things. She went to her parents and asked them to collect all the Yule gifts they had for her. With their help, she made a big pot of good wholesome stew, a loaf of dark bread, and a lovely pie. They gathered fresh fruit and nuts from their garden, and brought the food and the gifts back to the bridge, to the hungry family shivering in the cold. They covered the family in warm clothes, fed them, and sat with them sharing stories and smiles late into the night.

“Now go and ponder” the old man told the young man.

Another year passed and the young man returned. “Act with kindness and charity? Give?” he told the old man when asked what he’d learned.

“That is a key to the secret of success,” the old man said. “You come closer. But I must tell you another story.”

He told another story, and another and another, year after year. Ten years elapsed, and the young man returned for his yearly visit frustrated and still unsuccessful at figuring out the secret of success. Every year, the old man said he had found a key, or come closer, but the young man never quite found what he sought.

The old man always smiled, told a story, then said “Go and ponder.”

Then one year, the old man said something new. He asked the young man, “all the lessons you’ve learned from my stories, son, have you put them into motion in your own life?”

The young man thought long and hard before answering. “Some of them,” he said truthfully. “Not all. I could do better.”

“Then go this year, and put all the lessons into practice. Do that which you have learned. Go, and ponder.”

A year later, the young man arrived with a glowing countenance and a springing step. “I know the secret of success!” he proclaimed joyfully.

“Tell me,” said the old man.

“Faith without works is dead,” the young man said.

The old man just nodded silently and smiled. “Yes.”

Books and stories say things just happen to you. Synchronicity is wonderful, and it is very real, but don’t you think if things are lining up in your life along every step that it might just mean God is helping you out because you are helping yourself? God sent you here, he didn’t come himself. No doubt he could have accomplished with a look what it took you a lifetime to do, but he sent you. That means that no one else in all the generations of time can do what you are able to do in this moment. He Chose You!

if we depend on serendipity to propel us through all the big things in our lives, we become like a ship floating on the ocean, just waiting for the wind to catch the sail, rather than turning to find the wind. We have no captain at the helm directing our path, ensuring we get safely to the right port of call. You could pull a Christopher Collumbus, which isn’t a bad thing, but it wasn’t what you set out to accomplish.

It’s not enough to just dream. You must act upon your dreams, do that which can bring your goals closer to your physical hands. To live with unrealized dreams is to cheat yourself, and kill the wings of your soul and spirit.

Faith without works is dead.

We had fun figuring out the anagrams, but you could have heard a pin drop in that room when we finally got it.

It’s so easy to go through life day by day, going to work, taking care of friends and family, meeting obligations, doing life. We come up with these great ideas, and shove them in that mental closet, promising ourselves we’ll get to it someday. Last summer, I realized I might not get a someday. It’s something I’ve known all my life—people die—but facing neurosurgery kind of laid it out in black and white before me and there was nothing I could do but walk up to it and accept it. So don’t have faith that someday will happen, make your someday happen.

It’s so easy to feel selfish if we steal time for ourselves to put toward our own dreams. It’s selfish to hole up in your cave on a Friday night and write the novel you hope will get you your first publishing contract, rather than going out with your girlfriends to help get your best friend over that guy she just broke up with. But the publisher you want is now accepting manuscripts in your genre, and if you really work hard, you know you can get it in to them. But the more you put toward the art, it feels like the less you give to your friends and family.

Guess what? If they are real friends, they’ll see your dedication for what it truly is, and they’ll believe in you and your vision. They’ll be ringing your doorbell bringing you dinner so you don’t have to get up from the desk and go cook when you’re so deep in writing the climax you can’t get out. And if they’re REALLY good friends, they’ll add your favorite candy or treat to their care package, because they know you need the boost. A good friend doesn’t mind picking up the slack in your life when art calls. And yes, it’s okay for you to ask them for help! That’s why we have friends, to share, to help, to love and to rejoice with when you do finally get that publishing contract. You’re friend will feel accomplished to for having helped you, so don’t deprive them or yourself of that victory.

Before you say I’m nuts, and life doesn’t work that way, know that I’m speaking from experience. Surround yourself with friends who believe in your artwork. Sometimes other artists are best, and sometimes not, everybody is different.

And before you say it, yes, good friends are hard to find.

I’m lucky enough to have a few who have stuck by me through life, art, and all of the accompanying challenges. There are those who decided that I wasn’t worth waiting around for every time I got to a point where I had to put my art and service before my friendships. But we’re each called to something different in life, called to do different things on this earth. The truest friend will understand that, and know that I’d drop everything in a heartbeat if they need me, and vice versa. A true friend understands my phases of frenzied creation, and I don’t have to worry about giving myself completely to the art. Those true friends will be there waiting when I get back.

I love my friends and family very much, and my dedication to my callings in life never diminishes that love. It just means I have a fine line to balnce on between devoting myself to what I came to earth to do, and devoting myself to helping those I love. When the two things come into conflict, it’s very hard on me, but I know that the true friends, the ones who love me and understand me, will still be there when the storm of creation blows over.

Being an artist is not selfish. Giving time and sacrificing to create is not selfish, it is answering the call of that dream, that vision that God planted in your soul. Being an artist is not the hedonistic, starvation-ridden, fruitless lifestyle the world makes it out to be. You can be an artist and be responsible. You can be an artist and be “normal.” You are an artist, and you are still subject to the laws of humanity. :-d It is the law of nature that a healthy baby bird will spread its wings and try to fly. If it does not, it will eventually die of starvation or as prey to a predator. A healthy human baby will learn to crawl, then get to its feet and practice walking, then running, dancing, leaping. Artists have the same urge within them to exercise their talents of creation. If we do not practice creation and strengthen our fledgling wings or spread our full-grown wings regularly, they will atrophy and become crippled and unable to bear weight. Those wings are your ticket to freedom and success, so have faith that God gave the to you because you are supposed to use them. It is not enough for the hawk just to know he has wings. He must unfhurl them and fly to hunt and eat. If he does not, he dies. Feed your spirit. Have faith that God knew what he was doing in giving you this all-consuming urge to create.

I pray you have people inyour life who understand your calling to create, and who support you in that. I pray that this aspect of art is not a struggle for you, and that you can accomplish that high-wire balancing act with grace, agility and joy.

Namaste,

-Sassy

PS. Thanks go to cam Walker for the secret of success story and the anagrams. I paraphrased, and I hope I didn’t kill it. :-d Thanks, Bishop Walker!