I just read Austin Kleon’s Show Your Work: 10 Ways to Share your Creativity and Get Discovered after a wonderful friend shipped me her copy, complete with underlines and notes (which makes it even better!). I devoured it. In one sitting, just a couple of hours, I read it all. And ya, I’m going to be talking about this for a while.
I haven’t read Kleon’s Steal Like an Artist yet, but I’ve heard tons of great things about it and its definitely on my list now. To call this a timely read would be a massive understatement. I feel like Show Your Work has just solidified a bunch of little inklings and nudges and feelings I’ve been having about my career as a writer. I think now I get what I’m supposed to be doing.
Not surprisingly, that thing I’m supposed to be doing is literally showing my work. I need to be sharing my process with you, for the mutual benefit of us all.
I’m a natural collaborator. There is nothing I love more than sitting down with other like-minded people and hashing out ideas, asking and answering thoughtful questions, and being inspired by my friends and peers to create MORE and to create BETTER.
Yet, somewhere along the line, I bought into the idea that being a writer is a solitary endeavour. That in order to create I must isolate myself from the world, poke at my demons, and the struggle silently until I have a piece of literary genius that is ready to share with the world. I have been stingy with who I submit my work to, who I ask for feedback from, who I let behind the veil. And I’ve suffered for it.
My blog has suffered. I have believed I need to be some kind of expert in order to have anything of interest to say. Even when I was shared some of my publishing journey with you all, it was with the nagging feeling that someone out there was surely doing it better and that my contributions were pointless. And so a started and faltered, over and over.
My writing has suffered. My finished products have been waiting for “acceptance” to be seen, and my unfinished products were lingering in limbo somewhere because I’ve hit a wall I just can’t get over by myself.
My audience has suffered. Because while I’m sitting here waiting for everything to perfect, you are left with nothing but the occasional assurance on my half-assed blog that I am, indeed, still writing.
Worse, I’ve snubbed myself into a corner. I was terrified to share on new sites, or jump into unknown projects, and work with other nobodies. In my addled mind, I believed that I should only associate with people who were where I wanted to be, rather than where I was, in order to climb up in this industry.
I’m going to embrace being an amateur. At some point we have come to believe that an amateur is someone who is less skilled than a professional. The word is spat at wannabes and shouldabeens in derisive tones. In reality, the word means “lover.” An amateur is someone who does something purely for the love of it. They may get paid, and they may not. But they will do it anyway. I encourage all of you to find something you love and wholeheartedly become an AMATEUR!
Enough of us enthusiastic nobodies, together, make a “Scenius.”
This is a term Kleon uses (coined by musician Brian Eno) in Show Your Work. “Under this model,” Kleon says, “great ideas are often birthed by a group of creative individuals—artists, curators, thinkers, theorists, and other tastemakes—who make up and “ecology of talent.”” (Kleon, Show Your Work, p10-11)
I wrote a short post the other day called “Moving Forward, Together.” It was actually just before I read Show Your Work but it is indicative of the way I was leaning already. I want Sarah Does Sci-Fi to be a collaborative effort. I’ve met so many wonderful writers and artists and enthusiasts in my publishing journey, and I want to share this space with you.
I’m going to keep showing my work, and I’d love it if I could show yours too.
How can you share? Drop a link in the comments, send me a message or an email. Tell me what you love and show me what you’re doing about it!