Today, I want to encourage you to look back on the year and celebrate what you created. I imagine that for many of you, this may bring up complicated emotions. Things like:
- “This was a year of constant interruptions.”
- “Ugh, I didn’t create nearly what I hoped I would.”
- “I created a lot, but nothing felt like it worked the way I hoped.”
- “Just as I thought I was getting my creative routine in place, everything changed.”
- “I actually feel like I moved backward this year.”
But I imagine you did create this year. And more than that, you learned a lot. Recognize and celebrate these things!
And where you feel you fell flat, I encourage you to reflect on the lessons these experiences taught you. Because there, too, is progress. Gaining wisdom is creative work as well, and I’ll bet you earned some big creative wisdom this year!
It is so tempting for each of us to just focus on the items that are still undone on our to-do lists. To constantly be focused on tomorrow, next week, next month, and next year. But when we pause, even for a moment, to recognize what we have created and learned, I feel that is where transformation happens. When we are reminded what we did, not just what we hope to do. Where we recognize our capabilities, not just our hang-ups. Where we can celebrate the risks taken along the way that remind us: you are alive and vital, you have something to say, and your work matters.
In talking with so many creators, I find that anxiety can be a constant, causing overwhelm, stagnation, and burnout. In many ways, this is a natural part of what it means to put yourself out there, and to grow and evolve as a writer or creator. When we are young, our culture pushes us to the next grade, the next school, the next early-life milestone. But as we get older, these things are more self-directed, and I think that causes an anxiety many people aren’t prepared for.
When you create and share, there is always that possibility of feeling you are in a never-ending grind of pressure to do more. But today, for a moment, I encourage you to celebrate what you have created this year.
Sometimes that is harder than it sounds. There is so much stimuli around us each day, even in this very minute, distracting us. These things can keep us from just saying: “Look at how much I did! That is good! And that is enough.”
I’m helping to plan a book launch for one writer who had been doing some outreach to podcasts, but hadn’t noted it on the book launch timeline we developed. I encouraged her to go back and add these tasks she already completed, for two reasons:
- She will have a clear record of what she did when, and can use this as a template for her next book launch.
- Seeing these actions written down will be a clear reminder of how much she is doing for her book launch.
She reported back that it was indeed a powerful activity to do. This feels silly to admit, but there are times when I do a household task, then once it is done, go back and add it to my calendar as a to-do. Then a millisecond later, I delete it or mark it as “done.” That split second moment of recognition always feels amazing for some reason.
I listen to so many interviews with writers and creators, and it is common for someone to ask about what lead to a big milestone, and for the person to respond, “Gosh, I just don’t know how this happened. I’m not even sure what I did.” Well, writing down what you do gives you something to point to and recognize. “What did I do to launch this book? Oh, let me show you. This wasn’t easy, but I did it.”
In recognizing and celebrating what you create, actually list out what you created, what you are proud of, and what you learned. Writing this down is a powerful way to celebrate these things, not gloss over them, which I think we tend to do in our minds.
To me, this process always begs the question of how we can live up to our creative vision, while not feeling overspent. This time of year, I often consider:
- My mission and how I can feel even more aligned to it in my daily work.
- Doing only the things that matter deeply, and cutting away the rest.
- How everything I do can focus on craft, embracing the satisfaction of improvement in the details.
- Ways to stay consistent that fuel me, instead of depleting me.
- The simple creative habits I want to nurture, and how to keep expectations ridiculously low.
The work I do with writers is inherently about connection. A magical thing happens when someone reads your book, your essay, or experiences what you create. This is about depth, not breadth.
When it comes to considering creative work and sharing it with others, there is a tempting belief that “things were easier back in the day.” That things were simpler back in 1990 or 1980 or 1970 or 1960, in terms of creating, finding your place within well established systems that help you develop and distribute that work, and building a career and an audience for what you create. But I don’t think it was.
The other day, someone posted a series of photos on Facebook from the early 1980s. This is Shawn Murenbeeld in his basement, creating scratch-built replicas of Star Wars vehicles, and then shooting his own movies with a Super 8 camera:
What you are seeing in this image is a model of the probe droid he created, which was seen in the beginning of the movie The Empire Strikes Back. (To be clear: his models are copies, built as a hobbyist. He didn’t work on these films.) Why did this resonate with me? Because I can clearly see his passion for this work. In the background are posters that inspired him, and a shelf full of models he has created. Back then especially, this is time-consuming work that clearly requires a lot of creative energy.
What I also see in this photo is what is missing: any viable way for him to have his film distributed, seen, or celebrated by others. Even beyond issues about rights and intellectual property, there was no YouTube, no internet, no Patreon, no Substack, no social media, no Meetup.com, no way for him to share this work easily. Yet, he created. And it was enough to devote himself to developing his craft, and showing up for his creative vision. When I look up Shawn, I see how these experiments in his basement lead to a 30+ year career in art and design.
As I was writing this, Ellie Robins shared something in her own newsletter that I feel will resonate with many writers:
“This Substack’s subscribers are steadily growing, and the emails I get with growing frequency saying that people are enjoying the work—they really do mean the world. And yet as we close the year, my predominant feeling around this Substack is a sense of failure. I wish I were more organized; that I were able to follow a publishing schedule; that I were better at creating a network on here without feeling overwhelmed; that I wasn’t so often scrambling to put a piece together at the last minute; that I could stick with ideas for longer, especially the ones that seem to light people up, instead of bouncing around between ideas in ways I worry make my work hard to penetrate or follow.”
Yet, Ellie published 40 essays this year. I mean, that is just awesome!
For whatever you shared this year, I encourage you to celebrate it. Thank you for showing up this year. Thank you for what you have created. Thank you for what you have shared.
I’m seeing a lot of gift guides this year. What I’m encouraging you to do is this: give yourself the gift of recognition. That:
- You are unique.
- You have a powerful voice.
- You have created.
- You have gained wisdom.
- You have capabilities.
And that the world is a better place because of your voice and your work.
Please let me know in the comments below: what did you create this year, what did you learn, and/or what are you proud of! Say it out loud, I would love to hear it.
Thanks!
-Dan