Joyously Sounding Off On Artistic Voice Book

You doubt your intentions, your skill, the very decision you made to become a writer in the first place because it’s risky and such a strange existence sort of like an elite swimmer who spends several hours a day in a pool not talking with anyone.

Yet you feel compelled to keep writing while not being entirely sure why, wondering if you should be planting flowers in your garden, open to the possibility that may bring you more fulfillment though you remain skeptical of that.

A book I just finished reading got me thinking about all this. It’s called Find Your Artistic Voice: The Essential Guide to Working Your Creative Magic by author and illustrator Lisa Congdon. It’s mainly about how artists of all kinds from painters to sculptors to writers, seek to find their “voices” and what all that means. By voice this means the unique way an artist communicates through their art, how people are drawn to an artist for a certain idiosyncratic style or tone or subliminal message.

After reading this, it’s clear this voice is elusive and hard to define and really doesn’t matter, in my opinion, as much as just expressing who you truly are and how you truly feel without concerning yourself with whether you have or are developing a unique voice.

Questioning Your Work

The passage in the book that grabbed me emotionally the most was this one:

“At least once, and probably many times on your path, you will encounter periods in which you question everything about your work. You begin to question the validity of your work, what it means, and even whether it’s worth making at all. I was plagued with questions like ‘Is my work any good? Is my work meaningful to me anymore? What is this all for, anyhow?’ ”

Right now I am asking myself those exact questions. Is this writing important in any way? Do I like it? Am I spending my life doing something pointless?

There are no definitive answers. I press on, though, because, well, I’m not sure. It’s a habit. If I stopped writing right now for the rest of my life, I’m pretty sure that would make me unsatisfied. So maybe that is it: Writing satisfies me. Yes, that’s it.

Tension to Stand Out Vs. Conform

The author tackles one of the central dilemmas of being an artist: whether to do what others are doing, whether to stay within society’s rules of what’s appropriate art, whether to break away from all rules and write what I want to regardless of the consequences. This is a very difficult matter. You want to be honest in how you create yet a personal price may have to be paid. The author writes:

“There is tension between conforming versus being someone who stands out of the crowd. In theory, we want our work to stand out. But we are also terrified of that, because we risk pushback and criticism. Most career artists, out of necessity, become, over time, accomplished at feeling uncomfortable. Garnering the courage to continually push your work further and further into its own corner and out of the safe zone will only strengthen your artistic voice over time.”

I’m feeling uncomfortable. The question is whether I can tolerate the discomfort. I am not sure. There is so much I am unsure about. I don’t care about finding my “voice” whatever that is or means. I care about writing, the actual act of typing itself, seeing words appear on the laptop screen. It’s a sign I’m alive.

Comparing Ourselves

This whole conundrum of artists comparing themselves to other artists is real. It was a stressor for me for three decades or more until I had an epiphany that what others are writing cannot and will not have any influence on what or how I write. I am free from those worries. These words are mine and it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks of them including other writers. They may be smarter, more skilled, more intelligent. But that’s no longer why I write. I write to be forthright. I write to be authentic and real.

On this topic the author of the book interviewed an illustrator, Selina Alko, who said:

“There is this way that we compare ourselves to other artists. We say ‘Oh, I’m not there yet. And why am I doing this anyway, because I am going to fail.’ Being an artist can feel so competitive and that is the ‘noise’ that often clouds our ability to be creative. I had to work hard to not let those thoughts get the best of me. I began listening to what I really like to do. I realized that the magic happens in my own private space, not when I’m focused on what other artists are doing.”

Artists don’t compete. They create. All comparisons evaluating who is better miss the point. The artist creates to the best of his or her ability, embracing what they enjoy – creating – and that is the only thing that matters.

Lacking the Skill

Skill is a scary word. We wonder if we have enough, whether others have more, how to get more.

I no longer concern myself with whether I am a skilled writer. I’m not even sure how that would be defined or measured. Writing is much less about skill and much more about the willingness to share what’s really on your mind so that you feel good about that.

Letting loose is not about skill. It’s about being courageous. The author writes about the challenges artists experience developing and lacking skills.

“Very often our idea of the kind of work we want to make is way beyond our current skill level. There is literally a ‘skill gap’ between our vision and our ability. She quotes an author saying “realizing there is a gap between your taste and your skills is really disappointing to people. So they give up.”

Whatever skill I have as a writer is no longer relevant. All that matters is not giving up. Sitting here typing, unsure of whether it is skillful, questioning if it’s what I should be doing, yet still is what I am doing. It’s a situation. It’s a person. It’s a life. It’s a morning. Here we are.

Continuing to Show Up

Since I was 23 years old, I have been showing up to write, my butt planted in a seat literally, fingers bouncing up and down, words appearing on a screen. Regardless of what the rest of the world has been doing, I have kept doing this. A thing I’ve chosen to dedicate my life to. What it means I am unsure. Why I do it is straightforward: the satisfaction and also just because, skillfully or not. The author writes about the skill challenges of artists:

“One of the challenges of being a beginner is continuing to show up and practice, even when work feels like it doesn’t match up to what you wish you were creating. Because the truth is, to get better at anything requires practice – doing the same thing over and over and over until we become a whiz at it.”

Amen to that. Morgan Wootten, the greatest basketball coach of all time, taught me that “repetition is the great teacher.” So I engage in repetition now, writing, as I have hundreds or thousands of times. Doing this thing countless times over countless stages of life through good times and bad, amid highs and lows, decade after decade, while unmarried and married, with kids, all of it. Through all of it there has been this: writing. Through it all the same questions: Is it any good? Am I getting better? Am I being honest?

Your Voice Comes From Doing What You Enjoy

I can’t articulate exactly why I have written this article the way I have other than to say I made sure at the start I allowed myself to feel free to enjoy this experience. This was the priority. It may come across as serious and ponderous but trust me it’s been fun. Truth is, I like being serious and ponderous.  This has to be fun. Why in the world would I bother if it wasn’t? Repeat, rinse, write, repeat, rinse, write. In the book a mixed media collage artist Sean Qualls talked about the paramount importance of repetition to create art:

“Your voice develops as a byproduct of doing the stuff you enjoy over and over again and making discoveries. Once I dug into what I was obsessed with making, my voice as an artist began to take on a life of its own.”

Want the Process to be Enjoyable

Painter Kindah Khalidy chimed in about joy.

“I want the process to be very enjoyable, and I don’t want to feel guilty or scared to do it. I’m constantly asking myself ‘Is this something I enjoy?”

The way I wrote all of this, the tone and style and in whatever “voice,” has felt fun.

It’s been a pleasure.

Therefore, worthwhile.