Lost in the making

Morning darklings,

Sometimes I lose time unwillingly. Other times, it’s stolen. There is a middle ground, though. One I don’t discuss often. Usually when flow is mentioned, it’s this elusive thing all creatives are meant to strive for.

Write often enough, create often enough, paint or draw or glue or sculpt or or or and you’ll get swept away. You’ll lose time. You’ll write without thinking. You’ll be brilliant.

The truth is, flow simply means you get caught up because you’re enjoying the thing you’re doing. Your skill level doesn’t change. Maybe you do things “without thinking” actively. But you will feel the energy drain at the end of it all.

These last two weeks, I’ve been ebbing in and out of creative flow. Doctor’s appointment, flow, seeing a friend, flow, doctor’s appointment, flow, adulting thing I can’t avoid but really want to, flow.

There is nothing special about me tapping into this state. I’ve carved out time for it, I’m proud to say. Partly because I have a deadline, partly because it’s bringing me joy. The deadline wasn’t something I knew I would have when I started.

I’ve been working on a solo art exhibition for some time now. I planned it last year or the year before. I’ve been gathering items and ideas for it since. But a few weeks ago, I told myself, enough is enough. Do the damned thing.

It hits.

I’m as proud of it as I am of Another Elizabeth and Joyce. You’ll notice that I chose specific titles there—one that doesn’t even come out for a few more months.

Why?

Because they are all on the topic of disability and living with a chronic illness.

Each handles it differently, which is important for me. I don’t like getting bored, but I also know there are a lot of ways people intake information, and I’d like them to get the conversation going in any way I can—about what it’s like to live in a haunted body, how to show more empathy, think about ways to create a world that isn’t default male and able-bodied.

As I was realizing how much I would love the collection, I decided I would risk it for the biscuit. I would submit these to art galleries. Turns out, it was a good thing I started looking now. Many deadlines past in June or July, but there are three that end on September 1st.

By now, you probably know my thoughts on submission in the literary world. I do it when I see a call for a paid market that fits something I have already written. If they like it, great. If they don’t, cool.

But I can publish my own books. I get to see them out in the world without anyone’s help or approval. An art exhibition isn’t the same.

So I guess I’ll be applying to galleries on and off for the next year or two—until someone says yes.

Luckily, I’ve already started a second collection, so I’ll be plenty busy.

Oh, and the books—mine and the ones I’m publishing for others. Yes, I can bide my time on this one.

Until next time, harness the Little darknesses and embrace the Little things.