Rubin’s New Book: The Audience Comes Last, The Artist First

Read Time:10 Minute, 41 Second

I was working at Morgan Wootten’s basketball camp before my senior year of high school 42 years ago. One morning I entered the coach’s office and there Wootten was, the greatest high school basketball coach of all time. The night before my team, St. John’s, competed in a summer league game against Wootten’s team, DeMatha. He said to me: “I asked my players last night after the game if there was anyone who could defend or stop Charlie Hartley. You played great last night. We couldn’t stop you.”

To this moment this is one of the nicest and most important compliments anyone has shared with me. Wootten did this because he knew how to inspire young people, to make them feel good and worthy and talented.

I feel the same way about the author of a book I just finished reading titled The Creative Act: A Way of Being. It’s by Rick Rubin, one of the most successful music producers of all time. Rick makes me feel worthy of pursuing the art of writing in the way I am most excited about with the assurance that all I need to do is practice and improve and create art I like and not worry about commercial success. He assures me, as Wootten did, that I am a worthwhile human being.

Rubin’s book opens the door for artists of all kinds to explore what interests them, to forget about what anybody else thinks or how they’ll react to what they create, because it doesn’t matter.

The art I create should simply be what I want it to be, to say what I want it to say to me. In doing this it may or may not resonate with others but that should not be my concern because I don’t control how other people think about my writing. They see the world the way they see it and it is different than how I see it and that’s fine.

Rubin’s call to action: Just write what I want to write. Share what I honestly think. And that is that this book has opened a whole new mindset for me to embrace going forward into 2024 and beyond, I will be more committed to creating what excites me with no concerns beyond that, just making good art which is plenty and what I am here to do.

If what I write doesn’t resonate, it doesn’t matter. If no one reads this blog, it doesn’t matter. If this piece of writing gets criticized for being too long-winded, so be it. Bite-size soundbites are not what I want to create. I want to expand on my thoughts and go deeper because it feels good to me.

Reading Rubin’s book has taught me to forget about advertisers, followers, clicks, attention, criticism, indifference, all of it. The book has unshackled me from caring what people think. If they like this, great. If not, it’s out of my control.

From the book, I culled some of my favorite insights in italics below:

You come first; the audience last

In terms of priority, inspiration comes first. You come next. The audience comes last.

You wouldn’t believe how often as a writer you’re told to focus on and deeply understand your audience to write effectively. Rubin says don’t worry about that. Don’t focus on the audience. They should not be the focus as you create art. Creating art and nothing else should be the highest priority. So often writers don’t think like this. They worry about the audience first and the quality of the art tends to suffer, Rubin writes.

Why mess with creating less-than-your-best art? The audience is not the priority. This is a radical idea to me – and energizing.

The goal is to be different

The goal is not to fit in. If anything, it’s to amplify the differences, what doesn’t fit, the special characteristics unique to how you see the world. Instead of sounding like others, value your own voice. The reason to make art is to innovate and self-express, show something new, share what’s inside, and communicate your singular perspective.

My singular perspective is that of an insecure writer wanting to practice the craft so it gets better. But I realize now such improvement should only be how I assess getting better because anyone else may see improvement differently. I strive to write better and cannot control whether anyone thinks I do. I like thinking this way. It makes me feel more secure about what I’m doing.

Art is not about gaining approval

Art is choosing to do something skillfully caring about the details, and bringing all of yourself, to make the finest work you can. It is beyond ego, self-glorification, and the need for approval.

Whether writing this blog impresses you can’t be my priority because I don’t know what impresses you. I can’t concern myself with impressing anyone else either. I just want to write what I like and share it with the world if I feel it’s time to do so.

Alienating people is part of making great art

If you’re truly creating an innovative work, it’s likely to alienate as many people as it attracts. The best art divides the audience. If everyone likes it, you probably haven’t gone far enough. In the end, you are the only one who has to love it. This work is for you.

I may be alienating you. You may not agree with the premise of this blog. You may think it’s unnecessarily long. You may think it’s inane. None of that matters. You’re the audience. You come last.

You have no control over the commercial success of your art

Remember that commercial success is completely out of your control. All that matters is that you are making something you love, to the best of your ability, here and now.

Will this blog get shared and read by thousands of people? Before reading this book I would have hoped this to be the case. I wanted attention and praise. I wanted people to say “That guy’s a great writer.” Now I realize this is the wrong way to approach this craft.

Express what you’re afraid to express

Create an environment where you’re free to express what you’re afraid to express.

I’m afraid to express that I’m a needy writer who desperately wants feedback yet am often unfulfilled when I get it. No one seems to say what I want to hear if they read what I write. They may say it’s good writing or they enjoyed it but I’m not sure if they’re saying it sincerely because I doubt it’s good. I’m afraid to tell you I want to be a famous writer while at the same time writing this blog about writing to become famous won’t bring fulfillment, because these are contradictory thoughts. I’m afraid to admit I’m conflicted by wanting to get paid more for my writing while realizing more writing won’t make me happier. I’m torn while at the same time enlightened.

Make things you love—full stop

When we’re making things we love, our mission is accomplished. There’s nothing at all to figure out.

This idea sounds so simple: make things you love. But of course, the question jumps up: Will anyone pay you for what you make? Rubin says you shouldn’t be creating anything just to make money, and that the art probably won’t be as good if money is the desire. Commercial success should not be anywhere near the process of creating great art. Right now I’m following his teaching: I’m writing not to make money but to create something I like. And I do like this. Is it therefore better? I think so. You may disagree and that’s fine.

Practicing to improve is all you need to do – you don’t need to be the best

To hone your craft is to honor creation. It doesn’t matter if you become the best in your field. By practicing to improve, you are fulfilling your ultimate purpose on this planet.

If some panel of writing experts right now sent me an email saying they named me the best writer in the world, I wouldn’t feel any different because, first, I wouldn’t believe them and would probably be angry they were making fun of me. And second, it doesn’t really mean anything to be named the world’s best writer because how do you judge that? It’s an opinion, but based on what? Number of blog followers? Book sales?

I don’t want to be the greatest writer of all time. I just want to create the best writing I can and be content with that.

If you’re excited about your work, that’s all that matters.

The best work is the work you are most excited about.

Writing this blog excites me more than any other type of artistic expression or subject to focus on right now. I am jazzed to share what I learned from this book that may help you as a creative person explore what excites you.

Imperfections can make great art

We’re all different and we’re all imperfect, and the imperfections are what makes each of us and our work interesting. We create pieces reflective of who we are, and if insecurity is part of who we are, then our work will have a greater degree of truth in it as a result.

There are plenty of mistakes in this blog I’m writing. Insights are in some cases shallow or just not that interesting. I’m sure there are grammatical gaffes, and word usage that could be smoothed. But here’s what matters: It’s what I want to share with all its imperfections, long-windedness, and lack of restraints.

Follow your emotions more than your intellect

Often the most accurate signposts are emotional, not intellectual. Excitement tends to be the best barometer for selecting which seeds to focus on. When interesting starts to come together, it arouses design. It’s an energizing feeling of wanting more. A feeling of leaning forward. Follow that energy.

I’m not an intellectual although I wish I was. I’m not super smart. I perform poorly on logic tests. So I’m always energized when I read a book that says emotions are more important than intellect because I can do emotions pretty well. I like to write about feelings like sadness, regrets, triumphs over adversity, doubts, worries, exhilaration, wishing the world was not so hard to understand, and yearning for a better life.

The emotion I feel now is gratefulness that I discovered this book by Rick Rubin that has opened my mind to a new way to think about and approach writing that has nothing to do with whether anyone will like it and is all about just letting loose how I feel about things I care about.

You don’t need a coherent point of view to create great art

The reason we create art isn’t with the intention of making something useful for someone else. We create to express who we are. Our point of view doesn’t have to be coherent. Whatever our perspective, so as long as we share it, unaltered and undoctored, we succeed in art’s fundamental purposes.

Writing coherent sentences isn’t something I have a flair for. It’s hard to connect one thought to another seamlessly. Sentences seem to fall and ram into each other. It’s a stumbling process, herky-jerky.

My writing doesn’t flow. It sometimes doesn’t make sense to others. Rubin’s book makes me feel this is not something for me to feel bad about but rather just embrace. Incoherent writing has a certain charm to it, he would argue. It’s the weakness that strengthens.

If you like your art, someone else probably will

We are performing for an audience of one. The more formulaic your reaction is, the more it hugs the shore of what’s been popular, and the less like art it’s likely to be. There is no more reliable metric to predict what something might enjoy than us liking it ourselves.

I like what I have written here. It’s something I feel. It’s real. As a result, Rubin says there’s a chance someone else may also. But that’s not in my control. That’s on you.