While generals were in war rooms plotting and re-plotting ways to defeat Hitler and the Nazi forces, a small band of brothers thought of art. Specifically, they thought of Italian art. Next month, the movie The Monuments Men and its star-studded cast will pay tribute to these soldiers who thought of art in a time of war. During World War II, Italy was at risk for being pillaged and pummeled beyond hope. Supported by President Roosevelt, the Monuments Men made it their business and risked their lives to make sure that didn’t happen. Today, Italians and tourists alike can delight in the glory of Italian art because of these brave soldiers.
Smithsonian Magazine did a marvelous and in-depth article on the Monuments Men in their January issue. You can view that article online by clicking here. It is an emotional, riveting read. It made me want to run out and buy my tickets to the movie right now. We owe so much to these men who had the foresight and courage to save priceless and inspiring treasures for future generations.
“The secret of change is to focus all your energy not on fighting the old, but on building the new.” ~ Socrates
The hardest thing to manage, and the most valuable asset we have, is time. When we are following a dream, especially when we’re doing it on the side, our success is largely determined by our ability to eliminate distraction and stay inspired about our creative projects. This is especially difficult when the distraction (our day job, for example) pays well and the work is easy to do. I’m dealing with a bit of this right now: a project that as a whole is interesting and will be great for my portfolio, but with daily work that doesn’t excite me. Because I’ve committed to it, I will finish it, produce high-quality work with a smile, and move on as fast as I can. Here are the lessons I learned from this experience:
1.) It’s a wonderful thing to try something that gives you the resources (whatever they may be) and identify very quickly if it’s the right fit. Don’t beat yourself for making a choice that doesn’t work out. Recognize it, learn from it, and let it go.
2.) There is just so much homework you can do when finding a day job that works for you. In interviews, everyone is on their best behavior. Even in the first few days or weeks, everyone does their best to make any set of circumstances work. That’s human nature – we do the best we can with what we’ve got. For dream chasers with passion projects, this state can only last so long. And that’s okay. When it’s time to go, go. And do it with grace.
3.) In every situation, there is something to learn. It may not be what you intended to learn, nor what you wanted to learn, but learn you will. And you never know when that knowledge will be valuable. So take it in stride. While you are somewhere, learn everything you can. Take it all in, and then take it with you when you make your exit.
4.) Don’t let your day job deplete you. This is the biggest lesson and challenge. The past couple of days, this is what’s happened to me. The work I’m doing for this client is very important to the project and equally mind-numbing. I get home and I’m worn out. It’s been an act of sheer will to keep going on my own creative projects, but I’ve muscled through, just as we do to exercise even when we’re tired. And you know what? I’m never sorry that I’ve exercised once it’s done. The same is true for creative projects. It might be a struggle to create at the end of a long day, but it’s always worth it.
Have you ever been in this situation? How did you find the energy and inspiration to create, even when your day job sapped your energy?
“This above all: To thine own self be true.” ~ Shakespeare’s Hamlet
Maybe your creative projects have taken a backseat to other parts of your life. Maybe you aren’t making the progress you want to make in the time you’d like to make it. Don’t beat yourself. And please don’t give up. People whom you will never meet and never know could gain so much benefit from your creativity. If you love the work, then keep at it. Bit by glorious bit. Here’s why:
When I say Shakespeare, what do you say? Theater. Hamlet. Romeo and Juliet. Playwright. Old Globe. All of these are probable, wonderful answers. Shakespeare made a life in the theater and he made a living in real estate. He wrote plays because he loved to write them. I was shocked to recently learn this and I want to share it with you for a very specific reason: your career does not have to define your legacy. What you do to make money and pay the bills doesn’t need to consume you. You can choose, independent of your paycheck, how the world will remember you. Your title does not determine your passion, nor does it dictate where you place your heart, loyalty, and energy. Those are choices, and only you can make them.
Shakespeare could have easily thrown himself into his real estate work and abandoned his writing altogether. He could have relegated himself to be a laborer who didn’t have time for creative pursuits. And we would all be worse off for that choice. It took a long time for him to stabilize his finances so that he could spend the majority of his time writing in his later years. Creative pursuits are like that – we do as much as we can when we can out of our sheer desire to make something that matters. If that sounds like you, don’t despair. You’re in good company; the Bard felt your pain. He kept going. So should you.
“The object of art is to give life a shape.” ~ Shakespeare
The human experience is captured, shared, and studied through art, and yet it is generally deemed as less worthy than other disciplines in our education system. It’s labeled as a nice-to-have luxury instead of being rightfully celebrated as the crux of what it means to be human. I’m not sure when or why art was relegated to be a lower priority than other parts of our education. For many, myself included, art saves, serves, and inspires. It has kept me reaching, working, and striving for as long as I can remember. We’d be lost and unrooted without it. We would lose our history, sense of self, and connection to one another across generations.
In a time when everything seems to be up for negotiation in how we should educate our children, I hope we can change this. I hope that by the time my nieces are grown, the choice to be an artist is revered just as much as the choice to be a doctor, lawyer, or scientist. I hope art is no longer relegated to the select few who can afford it and that everyone will cultivate their own inner artist as a part of their everyday lives. Art, and the ability to make it, is a birthright, not a privilege.
Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn’t people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them? ~ Rose Kennedy
The most exciting (and terrifying) project I have planned for 2014 is the production of my first play, Sing After Storms. It will be staged as part of the Thespis Theater Festival in New York City on June 18th at 8:45pm, June 21st at 9:00pm, and June 22nd at 9:30pm at the Cabrini Repertory Theater, 701 Fort Washington Avenue in Washington Heights. What led me to write the play and ultimately submit it for production can be summed up in one word: priorities. On the surface, it’s not such a sexy word, but it made all the difference for me.
I wrote the play while I was in California this summer on a creative sabbatical from my work. I went there with about a dozen personal projects I wanted to complete and quickly realized that even if I worked 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for the entire 8 weeks I couldn’t get them all done. They were so massive I couldn’t even get 2 of them done. (I live by the philosophy of “make no small plans.”) I quickly realized I had to choose. I tried to wiggle out of choosing and tried to select a few. It didn’t work. I had to sit down and decide what mattered most. And though it was the least lucrative and least likely to generate anything other than happiness, I spent my last 4 weeks writing my play. With much coaching and encouragement from my dear friend, Trevin, I finished the first draft. It felt amazing to do what I loved simply because I wanted to. That experience also helped me make up my mind to focus on writing and content development full-time.
When I returned to New York, I completed the second draft and submitted it to Thespis. That was the first time I ever submitted the full play to anyone for review and I expected to be rejected about 100 times before anyone even gave it a second look. I’m proud of the work, though I worked in professional theater management for a number of years. After managing Broadway shows and national tours, I know how difficult the industry is. I know how much work doesn’t make it, how many artists never get any shot. I wanted to be passionate and realistic. I wrote that play simply because I loved the story. I never expected anything else to come of it even though I knew I would keep trying to get it produced.
When I got the acceptance from Thespis five days later, I was shocked. And nervous. And excited. And overwhelmed. I spoke with Trevin immediately, and then with my dear theater friend, Amy, who also read the script and encouraged me to give it a shot. Should I do this? Both emphatically said, “Yes!” So I reviewed the contract and accepted the next day.
Now there are many months of hard work and long hours ahead. Trevin is going to direct the piece and I’ve started to look for other people who want to play a part in this new project – actors, a stage manager, designers, technicians, stage crew members, marketing and publicity, investors. (If any of these opportunities sound interesting to you, please email me at christa.avampato@gmail.com.) While I will now be consumed by this next phase of the process, I remind myself that this all happened because I put the wheels in motion by following my gut this summer, by doing what made me happiest. I made a choice. One single choice. And that was enough to get started.
Last week Aimee Johnson, one of my blog readers, wrote me an email to thank me for helping to inspire her on her path to healing. She started her own blog as a result: http://aimees-apothecary.blogspot.co.uk. I’ve never met Aimee in-person though she wanted to make sure I knew how important my writing was to her, that my daily posts give her the motivation to keep going. I am humbled by her sentiments and her thoughtfulness to send me this note.
Just that morning I had been wondering how to structure this blog in 2014. I try to stick with a theme every year and 2013 was a year dedicated to making something beautiful, in my case a life and a career. Until I got Aimee’s email I was struggling with what to do for 2014. Aimee helped me solve that problem – 2014 will be about inspiring others and shining a spotlight on people who inspire me. I want to help people let go of things that don’t serve them and take more chances. Stories give us the courage we need to make that happen.
I’ve got a good feeling about 2014. Something tells me it’s going to be one of those landmark years with twists and turns and wild rides. I’m ready for it. I’m ready for all of it. Happy New Year!
Today I’m starting a new contract with the World Science Festival, “a nonprofit organization that works to cultivate a general public informed by science, inspired by its wonder, convinced of its value, and prepared to engage with its implications for the future.” In January, we’ll launch a new website squarely focused on this mission. The site will be free, open source, and chock full of incredible content for anyone with any level of interest in science. I’ve seen the beta site and it’s gorgeous. I’m thrilled, honored, and excited to join this talented team to put this amazing work out into the world. I’ll let you know when it’s live and ready for your engagement. Until then, you’ll find me happily buried in content production schedules, project plans, timelines, and bug fix trackers near Columbia University’s campus.
“In the long history of humankind those who learned to collaborate and improvise most effectively have prevailed.” ~ Charles Darwin.
This Christmas I got a subscription to Smithsonian Magazine, the perfect publication for nerds like me with a motley collection of interests. In the first issue I read about giant pandas, the Monument Men, and the last Christmas card sent by President and Mrs. Kennedy. One of the most interesting articles discussed Darwin. Though he published his seminal work, On the Origins of Species, in 1859 at the age of 50, he started developing his theory in the 1830s. He never planned to let it see the light of day while he was alive. It was only at the urging of his friend, Alfred Russel Wallace, that he published the work at all. Why did he hesitate for almost 30 years? He feared criticism. He feared that he was wrong despite so much evidence to the contrary.
Darwin changed the face of modern science in a radical way far beyond anything he ever imagined. Yes, his work was controversial and in some circles today it remains so. The lesson of Darwin is this: everyone who creates anything carries some amount of fear in their hearts. In Darwin’s case, it was extreme. Maybe that’s true for you, too. Don’t be Darwin. Please don’t let fear of criticism, fear of being wrong, stop you from putting your work out into the world. Do your best, release it, and let history be the judge and jury. Being wrong is painful, though not nearly as painful as never letting your ideas have a chance at a life outside of your own mind.
“Writing fiction can be difficult, lonely job; it’s like crossing the Atlantic Ocean in a bathtub. There’s plenty of opportunity for self-doubt.” ~ Stephen King.
I’ve started working on a few more play ideas. Writing fiction in any format is a strange and fascinating process. Over the Christmas break I finished The Playwright’s Guidebook by Stuart Spencer and he spends a good deal of time delineating between the story you want to write and the story that needs to be written. I wrestled with this concept when I was working on my play, Sing After Storms, over the summer. I kept trying to force my characters down a road and they fought me so hard that eventually I just let them do what they wanted. I stopped trying to save them from themselves. They were right and I was wrong. That was a big learning for me and it’s what makes fiction so distinct from nonfiction. There is structure to fiction but it’s so entrenched in the narrative that you can’t see it. The story builds the structure as it goes if the writer gives the characters the room they need to develop.
I’ve heard that there are writers who believe their stories come through them, as if they’re taking dictation from God in fully formed ideas. I’m not one of those people. My stories show up in fits and starts and sparks. I’ll hear sounds or envision scenes without any idea why they showed up, and they often appear at the most inopportune times – in the shower, while I’m walking Phin, at 4am when all I should be doing is sleeping. I rarely know where they’re leading. I just follow along, taking note of what’s interesting on the long and winding road that appears. To write fiction, we have to completely let go and let the story carry us wherever it’s headed.
I try to stay right there at the edge, peering over until I almost fall down into the abyss of the plot. These stories need telling and even though I don’t know why at first, I write them down as best I can. That’s what happened recently. I was working on an idea, happily plunking along when I started thinking about an entirely new character in a completely new setting. I kept trying to ignore him as I worked on my other idea and then he started invading my dreams. There he was, in the snowfall, his nephew trailing behind him. He seemed burdened, dark, and imposing. And alone. Terribly, terribly alone, even when he was with other people. I knew he was hiding something and it took some time for me to find out what it was. And then I found it, in a dream I had on the plane coming back from Florida to New York City the day after Christmas.
My eyes welled up when I learned what horrible pain he was hiding and what he would confess. It was awful and beautiful and for a split second I thought about finding a way to shut him up, to make him take it all back. But it was too late for him. And for me. The train was already pulling out of the story station and I needed to board it, to follow it to the end of the road, even though I wanted to run in the other direction. I couldn’t. He already had me in his grip. I have to take the journey with him. My curiosity is too great and I can’t let him go alone.
This wasn’t the story I wanted to tell right now but it’s the story I need to tell. I have no idea why just yet. I just know it’s there and I am the only one who can hear it. So I write it down in bits and pieces, and then do the hard work of cobbling it all together, of weaving the strings of words into one cohesive path. I feel lucky to have this job because it shows me that I really was meant to be a writer.
“The quieter you become, the more you can hear.” ~ Ram Dass
The days just before the New Year are magical and unique. They give us a lull to look back, be where we are, and look ahead all at the same time. Generally they’re quiet – a good time to catch up with friends, organize, and rest. It’s a time of Thanksgiving and a time tailor-made for imagining and crafting the life we want as the calendar turns over. Enjoy it.
