Recently on tumblr I stumbled over an art project by James Marquis called “Under the Wires”, photographs taken of places underneath the towering power line cables that criss-cross the country. Images like this are striking:
James Marquis. Under the Wire.
But what struck me, what STOPPED me cold, was that this was the realization of an idea I had back in the late 1980s, right about the time I went to college. We had power lines near my home in DeBary, FL and I was fascinated by the life underneath them. I wanted to “travel the lines” with a camera and take photos, record a nation covered by industrial-strength power cables.
In no way could James Marquis have stolen this idea from me, because I never acted on it and I think this is the first time I’ve ever mentioned it anywhere. But it is a good idea, and like most good ideas, more than one person is going to think of it eventually. Marquis, being an artist, has realized that idea in a captivating, powerful way.
But this is a habit with me: think of an “outside the box” idea, then walk away from it. Oh, yes, my justifications are legion and valid: no time, no money, other responsibilities, lack of skills, lack of equipment, etc. I got your justifications right here, baby! 😉
But in the end, what have I gained just by having ideas? Mostly, a basket of good ideas.
Not much else.
Don’t get me wrong: I value the act of thinking “outside the box” as its own reward. It’s important and requires practice, and feeds into our lives in a variety of ways. Creativity in any form is incredibly valuable.
It’s just going halfway, though. Good ideas never become great ideas unless you follow through on them, such as Marquis did. My good idea of 1987 is his great idea of 2013.
Recently a new publishing house based on an idea I had back in 2008 just got kickstarter funding for over $50k. Again, not saying that they are stealing from me, because I doubt the people involved ever read my locked-LJ posts about the topic, and as well this idea has floated up in fandom circles off and on for a while. It’s an “outside-the-box” idea, sure, but it’s not startlingly original in that sense. But instead of saying “that would be cool” they networked and collaborated and wrote a business plan and made it happen. They have made it great.
I, on the other hand, did nothing. Even at the time I knew I was letting a good opportunity to create something unique and special go by. Sure, maybe 2008 was not a good time to try that idea, maybe the time wasn’t ripe for it yet; possibly. Who knows? I don’t because I never did anything with that idea. I was, honestly, scared of it.
I do this all the time, and I know it, and I wonder what is really holding me back. Fear, obviously — my excuses are always based in a mentally of scarcity. I don’t have enough ________ (time/talent/money/etc.). Self-awareness at this level only goes so far, though. I mean, I can say “I don’t do X because Y” forever.
Honestly, I have a lot of things I’m not making happen right now. My outside the box ideas are good ones, but I keep stalling on making them great. My old excuses are pretty much hash, though, leaving me with the biggie that might be the root cause: fear of criticism.
The irony of course is my most powerful, influential critic is ME. Yes I care about what other people think, and I want people to like me. Sure, don’t we all? But the cruel monster I fear is all in my own head and is the result of my constantly thinking that I don’t have enough _____ (talent, skill, luck, beauty, etc.). What an elegant, destructive cycle of self-hate!
BUT
I’m tired of seeing my good ideas lie fallow while other people make great ideas happen. This is not a new complaint, but I’ve reached the tipping point.
In a lot of ways I feel everything from the beginning of 2011 onwards has been about preparing me for taking the step off the cliff to trusting my art, my writing, my abilities. Trusting the process. I’ll screw up, I’ll fall short of my (unrealistically high) goals, and I’ll regret some decisions, but most importantly I will make great ideas happen.
