Where the Wisps go
A follow up on why we must create when the idea strikes us
I wrote the first part of this in a bit of a hurry. Sometimes it be like that… you have to follow the spirit where it leads when it leads, and you can’t delay, edit or withhold the product.
When creating we have two options: release it or sit on it.
My default is to push something into the world, and while that undoubtedly leads to a more prolific body of work, it also means that sometimes I look back and see a different vision for my work than what I put forth. Like this essay. I could have sat on it and let it marinate for a bit, and a few good essays have been made great from resisting the publish button. But it’s not my default. Every platform on which I create houses a graveyard of drafts; myriad essays, videos, paintings, memes have been lost to marination for various reasons. The magic tends to fade if you don’t capture it, so when the wisp presents itself to me, I follow with the quickness (why you should always read this newsletter on the website rather than in the email). Luckily, the newsletter as a medium allows for expansion, so here I am Doing Me.
I didn’t expect to write a follow-up, but the original may have just sat in my brain as a “I wish I woulda” if I hadn’t stopped editing the Unabomber Manifesto episode of Syllojism (forthcoming) to plunk it down. Furthermore, if I had marinated on it, I would have experienced the catalyzing guilt of premature publication to reconcile my error with a second essay (hi!). I needed Part 1 to be in existence in order to parse my thoughts about whether I should have published it or saved it as a draft.
After the Post-Publishing glow and guilt, I realized why I have to follow the wisps here and now: It’s a creative FOMO situation. In Brave, Merida followed the magical wisps to find a vanishing witch’s den where she thought she could “change her fate” with a spell, but only if she followed the wisps immediately. When we follow our creativity, we’re hoping to ride on some wave that changes our trajectory in hopes that something better will be on the other side of our creation.
As luck would have it, Merida’s fate was changed, but of course not in the way she had hoped. Magic be like that. Much the same, when we follow our creativity, the thing we make rarely turns out the way we plan. And in some instances, our art becomes a beast of burden, distracting us from the real purpose behind our action - or hopefully forcing us to recognize what we were supposed to be doing with it in the first place.
Sometimes, it’s a fuckin’ mess - not unlike the current status of this essay.
I’ve tried to deny myself my process because of what other people recommend, and that is lame. Anne LaMott says we should let go of our need to produce a perfect first draft, but to me, this means HIT PUBLISH WHEN YOU FUGGIN’ WANNA - DAMN THE CONSEQUENCES. I push something into the world and move on. To hell with the typos and mistakes.
If we act on our creativity, choosing Publish over Draft, following the wisps all the way … sometimes the results are greater than we could have ever expected. Merida changed her fate by living dangerously, and I can relate. I’m a little reckless, but so far, it’s served me well. Whatever your process, be true to it because it could lead you exactly where you didn’t know you wanted to be.