The 9 Stages of Creation

The writer/creator/artist lifecycle has nine very distinct stages:

1 — Get idea, think it’s great or hilarious or whatever.

2 — Write/produce/create idea, still really excited.

3 — Get about 80-90% finished creating/writing/producing idea, begin to loathe all aspects of the idea, doubt the goodness of any idea you’ve ever had.

4 — Stop working on idea altogether, now convinced you are the least-intelligent person ever…person’d…Christ I can’t even think of the right word to replace person’d, so I guess we’re just gonna leave that word in there. Question any and all accomplishments and ideas in your life, convinced everything you’ve ever written, produced, performed in, created, suggested, or said in public or private is worthless shit that even Hitler would be embarrassed to claim as his own.

5 — Finish project just so the hours you’ve poured into it won’t feel like a complete and utter waste. Contemplate sitting in running car with your garage door closed until sweet monoxide-flavored release takes you to a place away from all pressure of creativity, a place whose only language is high-fives and ice cream.

6 — Submit project to boss or internet, lock self in Y2K bunker to avoid the imminent mockery of strangers and the ostracization of your family/loved ones.

7 — Pretend your idea/project/creation never happened in the first place, make all dinner reservations under assumed identity.

8 — Many, many years later, look back on created product/idea/written work/project and get mild enjoyment from it, wonder if you might’ve been overreacting initially.

9 — Come up with new idea, repeat entire process; oblivious to the new, fresh Hell you’re about to willingly subject yourself to.

Play on,
Dustin

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Focus On One

Part two of a three part series exploring some significant people in my life at the moment (albeit for vastly different reasons). If you’re interested in the loosely-affiliated part one of this faux-trilogy (on Joseph Kony, professional douchebag), it’s here.

Topic the Second: Jack Gilbert, man about town (1950-2012).

30 in 30, Day 7: Crossing Lines

30 in 30, Day 5: Everything I Know in Life, I Learned from Bugs Bunny

• Laughter is the best medicine…but it’s also the best weapon.

• Dressing in drag can get you out of most problems, but will typically create many more in its place.

• Carrot juice is pretty damn good.

• If you’re the right combo of funny and cocky, you’re unstoppable — even the people that hate you will like you.

• Never underestimate the power of a well-executed musical number.

The First Time I Sold Myself (aka Handbook for the Sellout)

Somewhere betwixt the early 20th century and the late 20th century, it became very vogue for “discerning artistic consumers” (read: pretentious A-holes) to ridicule successful artists for “selling out”.  The idea being that any artist able to turn a profit in their medium (music, acting, writing, painting, etc.), had clearly abandoned their ideals and convictions in order to do so.  After they sold out, they became puppets of The Man, and as such, were incapable of producing anything genuine and spectacular anymore, which made them less cool in the eyes of the “in the know” consumers — and by association served as a way for these same D-bags to judge the people who still supported said artist.  These hip, trendy consumers have clearly never had to pay rent before — because how else could they possibly justify hating on people who have spent years struggling to eke out a living in the arts unless they’d never had any bills or financial responsibilities of their own; and as a result, were totally oblivious to the fact that artists have to support themselves and their families on something other than dreams and smiles.