[-practically mperfect, collecting-]

by Nancy S.M. Waldman

You might think this essay will be about how to keep one’s collections free of dust. It’s not. While I could easily and truthfully admit to hating to dust my various collections (and everything else), what I have to confess goes much deeper.

I’m the one who’s been gathering dust.

Apathy overtook me in August. Spring into summer were energetic and fun. I had the joy of experiencing the birth of my new granddaughter, took three trips, entertained house guests, started knitting a sweater, discovered the world of Artist Trading Cards, took loads of photos and made plans to spend August revising my last novel before I threw myself into the joyful job of putting this issue together.

What happened instead is that I became immobilized. Not only couldn’t I seem to get moving on that revision no matter what tricks I tried - and I know a lot of them - but I couldn’t get moving period. The more I forced myself to look at the first draft of my novel the worse I felt, not only about the writing but moreso about myself. Finally I let myself off the writing hook for the time being. However, I still seemed encrusted in apathy.

All my gorgeous and inviting art supplies were out, awaiting my next batch of Artist Trading Cards. I wasn’t interested. I wasn’t even interested in looking through other people’s cards on the internet to find ones to trade for what I’ve already made. I couldn’t work up the energy to garden. I couldn’t find the motivation to work on my sweater. Worst of all, I had no interest in THIS, my zingy zine! Since last January gathering articles, essays, images, poetry and fun web sites has been one of the joys of my life. When I wasn’t doing something else, I loved dipping into the internet to see what I could discover. But in August, all that joyful energy was gone. I had the creative energy of a porcelain bunny. A bunny gathering dust. A dust bunny.

I don’t tell you this because I think I’m unusual or weird or special or even interesting. I feel the need to write about it precisely because this phenomenon is so common among creative people. We zip along a cable wire high above the rest of the world and then - boom! - hit the end of our exhilarating run with a thwarting thud; we hit it so hard that we can’t get up, or move, or motivate. We lie where we landed, gathering dust.

And then…we begin to hate ourselves. We tell ourselves all kinds of horrible things. That we aren’t talented. That we were stupid to feel so good about our creations. That we never were an artist to begin with because we can never stick to something long enough. The negativities can go on and on, our minds filling with creativity sapping thoughts.

The problem isn’t the down time. The problem is that we kick ourselves when we’re down.

The best most of us can hope for is to learn enough to short cut the recovery time. Wait it out. Do new things. Rest. Veg. But above all, do not get down on yourself. Be kind. Be respectful, not only of yourself but also of your work. Gradually we will come out of it. I recommend an end of the month publishing deadline! It worked for me. Then you can dust yourself off and get moving, full of the knowledge that for most of us, part of being creative is needing to periodically take the time to sit still, gather a layer of dust and wait for the right time to begin again.

Originally published in the October, 2005 issue of The Practically Creative Quarterly, Theme: Collections