In business school, I was trained to place supreme emphasis on an elevator pitch. In this age of shorter-than-ever attention spans, an elevator pitch is too long. Now we need a tagline to use online and off. Who are you and what do you care about in 10 words or less? I recently updated the tagline on my blog: “Curating a creative life through ancient wisdom and modern tech.”
My tagline used to read “Curating a creative life” and I would sometimes get the question, “how do you do that?” I wanted to be clearer about what I do so I expanded my tag line with the descriptors of how I curate a creative life. This summer I realized that everything I do is rooted in two worlds – the one of ancient wisdom (art, yoga, philosophy, wellness) and modern tech. That balance is very important to me because the two halves inform one another.
This clarity took time and a lot of effort to find and articulate. However, it was well worth the energy because it’s made my other career decisions so much easier. That’s the power of a personal mission.
Singer Robin Thicke has something to celebrate. After 10 years in the business, the 36-year old has his first #1 album with Blurred Lines. His first album never got out of the triple digits. Think Thicke has grit to stick with it for all these years? The band Black Sabbath recorded music for 46 years before their album, 13, hit #1 in June. The crackerjack team over at Rovio Entertainment created the wildly popular app, Angry Birds, after creating 51 other apps.
Age has nothing to do with it Hollywood, Broadway, Silicon Valley, and American Idol have created a culture obsessed with youth. The wild rise of Steve Jobs, Mark Zuckerberg, and other tech moguls in their 20s has caused a dangerous and unfortunate fixation on youth among the venture and investor community. Many VCs and investors refuse to even hear the startup pitches of any founders older than 30. We bemoan getting older and so we nip, tuck, pluck, lie about our age, and workout to the point of breaking our bodies, never happy with how we look or where we are along life’s path. Robin Thicke is 36. Ozzy Osbourne is 64. Peter Vesterbacka, one of the Angry Birds creators, is 44. If you think you have to be at the top of your field before you see your first wrinkle or gray hair, think again.
Success takes time and talent
When we aren’t as successful as we’d like to be at something right off the bat, we often throw in the towel. Too often and too soon, we sulk back to our homes, hide under our beds, and hope for brighter days ahead. Sometimes we resign ourselves to the idea that time has passed us by. Don’t do that. Figure out what worked, what didn’t work, and try again with this knowledge in-hand.
If your work isn’t its own reward, then find other work
Success is a personal and daily process. Even if I never receive any kind of critical acclaim as a writer, I’ll never think of the time I spend writing as a waste and I’ll never stop writing. The act of writing, putting my story out there and knowing that it helps others, is all the reward I ever need from it. Certainly critical success on a large scale would be lovely, but I don’t sit down every day and write with that as a goal. I’m trying to tell a story as honestly and as clearly as possible. If you’re working only for external rewards, you are wasting your time and setting yourself up for enormous disappointment.
If you found work you love, stick with it. If you get up every day, excited to create something, then keep creating. If your work fills your heart as it grows your portfolio, then you’re on the right track.
Ira Glass, I love you. I love you for so honestly putting it out there: storytelling is a craft, an art, and it takes a really long time to get good at it. And the only way to get good is to try over and over and over again. Write. Write. Write. There is no substitute for practice. There’s no shortcut. It takes blood, sweat, tears, and time.
Thank you for encouraging writers everywhere to keep going. Check out Ira’s video:
I’m learning this lesson in spades this summer. I’m in the midst of working on a handful of stories that have been churning in the depths of my mind for years. I’ve worked on them in fits and starts, stopping short when I would hit a roadblock that I couldn’t figure out how to remove. And so they’ve sat, unexplored and never shared.
“I’ll think of something eventually. I’ll meditate on it. I’ll just leave it alone and somehow it will fix itself.” I would try to make myself feel better with these affirmations. Really, they are just excuses.
The thinking doesn’t help. The meditating doesn’t help. The leaving it alone doesn’t help. The only thing that fixes writing is more writing. Yes, you have to lean into your writing, especially when you don’t know what to do.
You have to say to hell with the fear of writing garbage. All writers write garbage. It’s part of the process. It gets edited out later. Ditch the fear of being a screw up, of being wrong, fear of putting crap on the page and having it stare back at you. Write anything and everything that comes into your mind. The devil, and the answers to my roadblocks, are in the details and those details only step into the light through writing.
Once I committed to take action, I stopped being a writer and transformed into an observer. I follow my characters around as they tip-toe, stomp, saunter, skip, hop, and run through my imagination and the world they create in it. Rather than writing a story, I decided to trust my characters; those highly flawed, beautiful, totally irrational beings create something much more authentic and poignant for themselves than I can build for them. I set them free and let them act the way they want to act and do the things they want to do. They mess up. They hurt each other, and themselves. My instinct is to protect them like I protect my friends and my family, but that doesn’t serve anyone and it’s not my place.
This summer I’m taking my first shot at writing a full-length play. It’s challenging, heartfelt work based on a story that’s been rattling around in my mind for over a decade. I’m not sure what I’d do without my friend, Trevin, who has supported the idea since I first mentioned it to him earlier this year and has read the very first words formally put to page. In a 30 minute FB chat, I learned more about playwriting from him than I did in an 8-hour playwriting intensive class that I took a few months ago.
By the end of my time in LA, I plan to have a completed first draft and new insights into my own life and skills as a writer. Already, I’ve learned so much in this process and I’m only one scene into the play. We have to keep challenging ourselves in our craft, whatever our craft is. We have to push our boundaries. And we have to ask for help from those who are able to support and guide us in our new endeavors. Whatever the outcome of this play, writing it alone will make me a better person. And that’s what art is all about – it’s a means to improve ourselves from the inside out.
Occasionally, a leopard can change its spots. A Christa in New York can become a Christa in Los Angeles, at least for a little while. We can break patterns. We can do things differently. We can evolve.
Last week, my friends Susan and Richard shared a post from the New York Times that discussed how technology is helping us connect and leaving us feeling lonely. We get absorbed into our screens at the expense of looking people in the eye. I’ve fought hard against the argument that all of our connecting is causing us to become disconnected but I couldn’t refute the points made by the post’s author, Jonathan Safran Foer.
Have I fallen victim to this trend? Maybe. And that answer scares me. This summer I’m going to spend more time connecting, less time connected. This blog will take on a different shape to support that effort so that I can spend more time in the world and more time on my personal writing projects. As someone who thinks in words, I’m trying to improve my visual skills and this blog will support that goal, too. I’m going to attempt to chart my summer in pictures with a couple of lines of text thrown in to record the a-ha moments. The joy. The happiness. The peace. The clarity. The adventure. The world as I see it with my eyes and not through the filters of online information.
Each day, I’ll try to post one photo that perfectly captures what that day means to me. Some will be pictures I take. Some will be pictures I find. And it’s all TBD…
Anna Van Fleet is a wonderful and supportive reader of the Christa In New York: Curating a Creative Life community. She was curious about my writing process, yoga teaching practice, and how I use the two of them to support and bolster creativity. Given that this type of discussion is one of my very favorites, I was honored that she asked to interview me on her blog, Moving with Grace.
Below are a couple of the questions and responses. To read the full story, click here.
Q: You are a prolific and talented writer, on many topics. You have self-published books, and are collaborating with others. You also have a great blog and a lot going on! Can you tell me about your practice of writing?
Christa: I do have a daily writing practice. I sit down every day at some point and write. I’ve been doing that for 6 years. I wanted to become a solid writer and I felt the only way that I could do that is to practice every single day. Sometimes it’s for my blog (which has a daily post) and other times it’s for freelance pieces or personal writing projects I’m working on. It’s become such a ritual now that I actually don’t feel right if I don’t write every day. For me, writing is like brushing my teeth. I see and experience the world as a writer and it makes sense of me to get those observations down in some way.
Q: You are interested in yoga and meditation used as tools for creativity. Have you developed a philosophy on what works in the practice of yoga and meditation specifically with regards to creativity?
Christa: I’ve taught yoga for creativity classes at places such as SXSW (ed. note: The South by Southwest® (SXSW®) Conferences & Festivals (March 8-17, 2013)) and NYU. A number of my students are professionals in creative fields. Yoga is a tremendous support to me as a writer and product developer. My yoga teacher, Douglass Stewart, says that our practice both saves and serves. That’s definitely true for me.
Creativity needs boundaries. A painter’s canvas is only so big. A book can only be so long. A songwriter’s tune can only last so many minutes. It’s these boundaries, these guideposts that hone and focus our creativity. We eliminate the unnecessary so the necessary can speak. Discipline and determination are wonderful, useful tools for artists of all varieties. Without them, our creative muscle just becomes one big blob. Organizing our creativity is what gives it impact and that’s what I try to impart in all of my work and my teaching.
About a month ago I started writing for igokids.com, a site with the mission to be the go-to resource for parents, families, and caregivers about everything kid-related in New York City and beyond. I’ll be covering all kinds of activities from museum exhibitions to theater shows to family-friendly restaurants and events for the young and young-at-heart. My first post is now live and highlights the Museum of Mathematics, a one-of-a-kind place where kids and adults alike can play with numbers. Check it out by clicking here. If you have ideas of places and events in NYC that you think I should review, please let me know!
I love Anne Lamott. She is among my favorite writers because of her raw, honest turn of phrase and her fearlessness that allows her to cut right to the chase. In her efforts to thoroughly understand herself, she is a mirror for her readers.
In 2009, she wrote this gorgeous article in O, The Oprah Magazine, about how to be who you are meant to be. Her advice is this: stop. Figure out what to stop doing, who to stop pleasing, and where you don’t need to be. It’s akin to the advice that learning what not to do gets us closer to figuring out what to do. And then I would also add that you meditate because while you may be able to stop physically, you need to also give your brain a break from its tireless whirr of thoughts.
Enjoy this article and then tuck it away in your folder labeled “inspiring writing to read when I’m feeling down on my luck.” You are not alone in the pursuit of your own greatness; we’re all here with you, doing exactly the same thing.
“We begin to find and become ourselves when we notice how we are already found, already truly, entirely, wildly, messily, marvelously who we were born to be. The only problem is that there is also so much other stuff, typically fixations with how people perceive us, how to get more of the things that we think will make us happy, and with keeping our weight down. So the real issue is how do we gently stop being who we aren’t? How do we relieve ourselves of the false fronts of people-pleasing and affectation, the obsessive need for power and security, the backpack of old pain, and the psychic Spanx that keeps us smaller and contained?
Here’s how I became myself: mess, failure, mistakes, disappointments, and extensive reading; limbo, indecision, setbacks, addiction, public embarrassment, and endless conversations with my best women friends; the loss of people without whom I could not live, the loss of pets that left me reeling, dizzying betrayals but much greater loyalty, and overall, choosing as my motto William Blake’s line that we are here to learn to endure the beams of love.
Oh, yeah, and whenever I could, for as long as I could, I threw away the scales and the sugar.
When I was a young writer, I was talking to an old painter one day about how he came to paint his canvases. He said that he never knew what the completed picture would look like, but he could usually see one quadrant. So he’d make a stab at capturing what he saw on the canvas of his mind, and when it turned out not to be even remotely what he’d imagined, he’d paint it over with white. And each time he figured out what the painting wasn’t, he was one step closer to finding out what it was.
You have to make mistakes to find out who you aren’t. You take the action, and the insight follows: You don’t think your way into becoming yourself.
I can’t tell you what your next action will be, but mine involved a full stop. I had to stop living unconsciously, as if I had all the time in the world. The love and good and the wild and the peace and creation that are you will reveal themselves, but it is harder when they have to catch up to you in roadrunner mode. So one day I did stop. I began consciously to break the rules I learned in childhood: I wasted more time, as a radical act. I stared off into space more, into the middle distance, like a cat. This is when I have my best ideas, my deepest insights. I wasted more paper, printing out instead of reading things on the computer screen. (Then I sent off more small checks to the Sierra Club.)
Every single day I try to figure out something I no longer agree to do. You get to change your mind—your parents may have accidentally forgotten to mention this to you. I cross one thing off the list of projects I mean to get done that day. I don’t know all that many things that are positively true, but I do know two things for sure: first of all, that no woman over the age of 40 should ever help anyone move, ever again, under any circumstances. You have helped enough. You can say no. No is a complete sentence. Or you might say, “I can’t help you move because of certain promises I have made to myself, but I would be glad to bring sandwiches and soda to everyone on your crew at noon.” Obviously, it is in many people’s best interest for you not to find yourself, but it only matters that it is in yours—and your back’s—and the whole world’s, to proceed.
And, secondly, you are probably going to have to deal with whatever fugitive anger still needs to be examined—it may not look like anger; it may look like compulsive dieting or bingeing or exercising or shopping. But you must find a path and a person to help you deal with that anger. It will not be a Hallmark card. It is not the yellow brick road, with lovely trees on both sides, constant sunshine, birdsong, friends. It is going to be unbelievably hard some days—like the rawness of birth, all that blood and those fluids and shouting horrible terrible things—but then there will be that wonderful child right in the middle. And that wonderful child is you, with your exact mind and butt and thighs and goofy greatness.
Dealing with your rage and grief will give you life. That is both the good news and the bad news: The solution is at hand. Wherever the great dilemma exists is where the great growth is, too. It would be very nice for nervous types like me if things were black-and-white, and you could tell where one thing ended and the next thing began, but as Einstein taught us, everything in the future and the past is right here now. There’s always something ending and something beginning. Yet in the very center is the truth of your spiritual identity: is you. Fabulous, hilarious, darling, screwed-up you. Beloved of God and of your truest deepest self, the self that is revealed when tears wash off the makeup and grime. The self that is revealed when dealing with your anger blows through all the calcification in your soul’s pipes. The self that is reflected in the love of your very best friends’ eyes. The self that is revealed in divine feminine energy, your own, Bette Midler’s, Hillary Clinton’s, Tina Fey’s, Michelle Obama’s, Mary Oliver’s. I mean, you can see that they are divine, right? Well, you are, too. I absolutely promise. I hope you have gotten sufficiently tired of hitting the snooze button; I know that what you need or need to activate in yourself will appear; I pray that your awakening comes with ease and grace, and stamina when the going gets hard. To love yourself as you are is a miracle, and to seek yourself is to have found yourself, for now. And now is all we have, and love is who we are.”
“I’ve seen and met angels wearing the disguise of ordinary people living ordinary lives.” ~ Tracy Chapman
When I think about what I really want to be, an angel is an accurate description. Whether it’s through my writing, teaching, art, or business work, I hope it’s all useful to someone. I hope that it makes someone’s life a bit easier, happier, and healthier. I hope that it helps me connect to others and helps them connect to me.
What good are angels up there somewhere? We need them down here, on this Earth, right now. I can’t imagine any work that would be more valuable or gratifying than to know that what I’ve done has in some way helped someone navigate this wild world with more grace.
In business school, I was trained to place supreme emphasis on an elevator pitch. In this age of shorter-than-ever attention spans, an elevator pitch is too long. Now we need a tagline to use online and off. Who are you and what do you care about in 10 words or less? I recently updated the tagline on my blog: “Curating a creative life through ancient wisdom and modern tech.” 
Christa Avampato 