(When Art Takes You) A New Direction

If I’m going to be honest with you, which I try to always be on my blog, I’m a little bit nervous. I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching, and my blog has become a stomping grounds to work through a lot of those details of who I am. I don’t blog nearly as much about my kids as I used to. My extended family probably pines for the days of simple updates dripping with beautiful photos of grandkids. But lately my blog has become a lot more about myself and my personal struggle to figure out who the heck I am as an artist. I’ve fit well into this groove. It’s become a characteristic of Messy Canvas.

But I sense a change coming, a new door to enter. And as with any impending change, my palms are a bit sweaty and my heart is beating a little too loudly in my chest. My mind trips over lots of “What If?” scenarios. But I am not in control. Something outside of me is pushing me on and it’s telling me things are changing.

It’s easy to say I want to publish a novel or that I want to write fictional short stories or that I want to attempt nonfiction narratives. I’ve gotten quite good at dreaming big, and even dreaming big out loud. But I can’t let myself live in dreams. I’ve got to rope them in and make them personal. I’ve got to make them mine. So if I want to get published, I’ve got to be writing stories. I’ve got to be experimenting. And if my creative time is to be taken up with more of this sort of writing, Messy Canvas is going to morph, becoming this strange collaboration of real life artist meets imaginary outpouring.

I was talking to my Mother-In-Law during their recent visit, about the shift that is happening in me, and how hard it is to let a lot of other artistic pursuits wane so that I can focus on writing. Unfortunately it’s a painful process to go through because I’ve wrapped some of my identity into things like my ability to use Photoshop, sew stuffed animals, draw, and make stuff out of paper. She made a good point though. She told me something to effect of, “If writing is what truly makes your heart sing, then we will be taken by your writing. In fact, we will probably love it more than anything you’ve ever done because we will see your heart singing amongst the words you write and that will be beautiful.”

I want to believe that it will be beautiful, but right now I know my nervous little writing voice isn’t anything above a squeaky, rusty whisper. I’ve got to try new things. Engage in writing exercises. Be brave enough to post bits of fiction or to lose myself in the details of my own life and then share them. And I’ve got to be brave enough to believe I won’t lose all of you in the experimenting. Writing for myself is nice, don’t get me wrong. But writing for readers brings me great joy. I like to know my words are landing somewhere, rather than just heaved into an open sky and lost among the atmosphere.

So pardon me as I rub my sore muscles and attempt to do creative things with them I haven’t done since being a child. Pardon me as I use my Messy Canvas to get my hands dirty with words and attempt to form them into stories that don’t yet exist. Pardon me as I quiet the butterflies in my stomach the only way I know how – jumping right in with two feet, boldly approaching a new door and pulling on the handle to see if it will open.

It will be a slow unraveling process that may or may not make its debut anytime soon my blog. But with time I need to be making that transition to a different kind of writing that is both foreign and beautiful to me. I really hope as it happens you’ll stick around and let me know what you think. You (the readers) are as much a part of this journey as I am (the writer). And my hope is that my Messy Canvas stories will continue to stir things in you that encourage you to use your own voice and chase down your own dreams.

Tagged as: artist, writer