I have two very clear sides to my personality. On the one hand, I’m like, to hell with it all! WE RIDE AT DAWN! And God help any peasant who tries to stop us!
Meanwhile, at 2:31 am: Did I accidentally offend someone with that bad joke that rolled off my tongue before my little brain hands had a chance to rein it in?
*eyes squint harder at the ceiling*
Orrrr WHAT IF that thing I was convinced was a reeeally great idea that I have already sent out into internet land was actually really not and now there are people secretly eating soup with Viking-sized pieces of bread laughing at me around their kitchen table in a remote village in western Switzerland whilst I rest under my bed covers, cold and alone, shivering in the shadows of my own mind chatter?
You know. That game show we all play with ourselves that’s titled “Am I brilliant or secretly a wanker?”
Or no? Just me?!
I tell you this because Emails of Delight have been pinging into my Inbox of Unfettered Dreams all week that make me realise that it’s time for a little collective anarchy. Myself included.
Because I’ve been reading things like this (from people I factually know are unreservedly brilliant):
I’d love to be part of it, but there’s also a fairly loud voice going, “Who the f*ck is going to want what I’m selling?”
Or:
I have ideas and they seem genuinely interesting but as soon as I start to make movements towards making them real, I convince myself it’s probably all a bit stupid and no one will care and I haven’t got the time anyway.
Or:
I want to make money from something that feels meaningful and has a real impact, but I can’t seem to figure out how to make those things work together.
To which I get out my metaphorical bugle, give it a quick toot and shout ENOUGH! 📯
Oh, what a swampy wilderness we have found ourselves populated almost solely with Not Good Enough Trolls!
Some of the very best ideas (from the very best people) have not even had a chance to get out of the starting blocks for the simple reason that trusting ourselves is not something that we’re taught to do.
In fact, we’re taught to do the opposite.
It’s no wonder we find this whole ‘follow your own ideas’ caper a right fandangle.
Following instructions? At that, my friends, we are excellent.
Following our own fascinations? Not so much.
But look, this much I know:
I lured you here to share my own neuroses about illustrating a book for the first time, and while I’m frighteningly new to the whole drawing caper (I’ve only been drawing for a couple of years and spent the years prior to that convinced that I was crap at it) the whole “why is my body and mind pinging in a kabillion different directions while my nervous system radiates white light like a spark plug” is something I’m not new at.
And I’m cocky / delulu / enthusiastic enough to hope that what I share with you will be helpful.
Or at least, you can chortle from the sidelines. Both are wins for me.
So where shall we begin?
Why not start where all good things go to die: Somewhere between 1:33 am and 2:16 on a bleak and stormy Monday morning. Around the time, my mind began to wail, why meeeee?
Because look: There are many things I feel like I’ve put in the hard yards for. The things where if I had an opportunity in that department, I would secretly / not so secretly be delighted.
But this whole drawing thing? Well, do that I’m very new.
It’s all, as the philosophers say, very ironical.
There’s a whole world of illustrators out there who have been busting ass and putting in the yards and talking about the trigger words that were installed in art school, while I’m just over here, prattling on with my pencils for a coupla years and then whoosh, wham, bam, Imma finding my little drawings in a proper book (look I know it’s not quite this simple but just telling you what I feel!).
To be honest, the background hum of emotion this week was to feel kind of embarrassed. Not to be in the book (of course, that’s brilliant), but that Chantel had gone and chosen me.
I mean, perhaps she’d had a moment and was now thinking of all the ways she could take it back but was now backed up between a hard book cover and a library shelf?
Seriously. It was to the point where every time someone shrieked on my behalf (in a good way) and asked to see my drawings, I felt like I needed to offer them a series of qualifiers about how it’s a fluke and I know, it’s wild, and there are so many better people out there and I have no idea why me.
Which got me thinking how we can well, get in our own way. I mean, it’s painful (in an Oh COME ON ALREADY kind of way). We can be boring as a car manual.
Because the whole reality is: this overthinking palava is also kinda pointless.
When it boils down to it, it’s a do or don’t do situation.
We can’t keep putting every good thing that happens to us back on trial.
Our job is to figure out how to make good on the possibilities that are handed to us and to channel our resources- physical, emotional, mental, not sexual because that would be weird- into creating something material from these amorphic opportunities and conversations.
Which means:
We have to follow the energy of the desire and not the doubt.
Prove our ideas, our dreams, oour aspirations right.
And importantly, we don’t have to wait until the worry wart in our head shuts up before we crack on. She can come too. She’s just not allowed to drive.
Because you know what (and sorry to throw in the death card. Such a downer)? This whole Big Chicken idea arose from caregiving for my poorly mum, and doing the math of her age compared to mine, which was a DISTURBINGLY SLIGHT number and then having one of those metaphorical knocks to the head about the things I want to do/ make / create before I become potentially less coherent than I already am with only one working big toe and a questionable right hand.
And if you feel the same, well, I’d like to help you with that too.
So, before I get into the nitty gritty with you, let’s briefly post some answers to your questions:
Who the f*ck wants what I have to sell?
I imagine quite a lot of people. But there’s only one way to find out.
Experiencing your balloon deflating and wondering who’ll be interested in your maybe bonkers idea?
All ideas feel slightly daft to start with- or at least once you’re out of the flow stage where the idea popped up in the first place and back in the place where your brain starts to consider things from a critical perspective.
While you are teetering on the edge of idea spawning and potentially taken action, you are dancing with uncertainty, and your brain and body hate it.
Remind yourself that it’s normal to feel weird.
This is part of the process. Your brain wants to turn away from it cos it can be a little hard and it takes energy and we want to make sure we use our brain-ey energy for the right things.
But once you take even a little step into the murky unknown, you get a shot of dopamine goodness and it becomes easier and easier to do again.
Critical evaluation of where to channel your energy and resources is one thing, but never proceeding based on the first whiff of doubt is quite another.
Can we make money whilst having meaningful impact?
Absolutely. Of that, I am most sure.
And yes, I know you want to know, well how?! I promise that we’re going to get to that.
But for today, maybe we leave our conversation here:
We DO ride at dawn and we’ll probably ALSO be staring at the ceiling at 1:12 am stress eating cheese the size of door-stops on salted crackers.
Both things can be true, and we can still get good sh*t done.
Excellent sh*t, in fact
Frolic on, my glorious creative compadre.
Until we speak again,
xx Jane
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