It’s Sunday afternoon and I have no idea what to write. This happens more often than I would prefer. On a good week, I’ll have my Tuesday post done, edited, and scheduled by the weekend before. That happens when I have a clear idea of what I want to write. When I don’t, I just sort of hope something occurs to me before Monday. Usually it does, but sometimes I just have to sit down in front of a blank Substack page until I have an idea worth pursuing.
I am not a "pressure-prompted” person. Frankly, I often wonder whether people who claim to be are simply using it as an excuse for their own procrastination. In the end, though, I write the post because I have to. That’s the arrangement we have — you subscribe, and in return Dad and I commit to posting on the schedule we have set. This is actually one of the reasons I wanted to do a Substack in the first place: to force myself to write regularly.
Of the several dozen posts I’ve written since Matter at Hand launched in October of last year, probably two thirds felt like a slog to write. And yet, something I’ve found is that the posts I am most excited to write are very rarely the ones that resonate with you all. More often, I am surprised to see a post that felt like pulling teeth to write, ends up really hitting home.
What does that mean? I have no idea! I suppose I could collect my most popular posts and try to figure out some sort of formula for reliable Matter at Hand content. I don’t think that would be the right lesson, though. Forcing myself to write when I have no ideas and then watching the idea I settled for be popular has reminded me why it’s important to create when I don’t feel inspired.
First, because I don’t think creating should be merely about my own fulfillment. Now, there are artists and writers who would disagree. I understand the idea that you have to write for yourself and not only for others — I think that’s basically true. But every creative has to pay the bills and that means making some things you hate. Beethoven, for example, wrote music for military marches because they were very popular at the time and his patrons requested them. He hated — hated — writing them. But in order to be able to create the music he wanted to, Beethoven created other music he despised.
As a Creative Director, one of the important parts of my job is to make sure I am balancing the everyday busywork my teams have to do with creative challenges they want to do. If the balance is wrong, either my team is unhappy or the people we serve are. It’s easy to see the creative projects as more important, but actually the busywork is vital. Those projects aren’t as exciting, but they are usually more practical and necessary to the functioning of Seacoast Church.
A creative has to feel that they are satisfying their desire to actually create, and busywork can’t do that. But I think a creative who only creates for themselves rarely makes anything that matters to others.1 Besides, I write Matter at Hand for an audience, so, creating can’t just be about fulfilling my own desires.
The second thing I’ve been reminded of is that there is simply value in doing the work. When I write a post I’m not especially interested in but that becomes popular, that’s nice. I learn something unexpected about my ability to speak to that topic. But when I slog through a post that isn’t popular, I often learn just as much. Taking care of my ability to write is like taking care of my body. If I don’t force myself to do it regularly, it will atrophy.
Some days I feel great when I work out at the gym. I feel strong and crush all my sets. Other days I feel lousy. I keep getting cramps during my run, or I can’t lift as much as the day before. It would be foolish of me, though, to chalk those latter days up as wasted. Working out when I don’t want to, or when each set is torture, is arguably more important than working out when I feel good and look forward to it.
It’s Monday afternoon and I’m finally finishing this post. It’s been a bit of a slog, but I am pretty sure I am a better writer for having done it. What is something you know you should be doing, but avoid when it feels like a slog? What would it look like to commit to doing it regularly, regardless of how you feel? It’s easy to apply this to fitness, but what are other areas in your life that would benefit from a commitment to simply doing something, regularly, no matter what?
Obviously I am talking about professional creatives, here. If you like writing or painting as a hobby and have no intention of ever sharing your creations, then do what you want. On the other hand, why NOT share what you make? Perhaps it will impact people in ways you don’t expect.
You. Are. Not. Alone.
Welcome to the companion clubs of “I don’t know what to write” and “if I write will anyone read it?” Membership is rarely free since it will cost you time, brain power, and way too much self contemplation. However, I find the perks and joy of joining these clubs in the showing up - writing because it’s time - not because of topic. Good for you for setting aside the time. Nothing is wasted there!
This is something I really admire about you, Jack. When you commit to something, you are unflappable my friend.