In a bid to keep on track with my aims and resolutions, I’m back with the Artist’s Way or at least the parts of it that facilitate what I need to do as opposed to what it thinks I need to do.
The thing is, this book was too successful for me and my remit has now changed. I’ve already managed to tap into my creativity and now write on here every day.
Aunty C is half amused, half exasperated. ‘All the years I begged and begged you to write, and now? It’s all you ever do! What about the other areas of your life?’
That’s not true. I also cook, bake, sew and knit. And sleep! 🙂
So whilst the Artist’s Way is all about making time in your mundane life to discover/recover your creative self, I’ve now discovered/recovered my creative self and kicked everything else to the curb.
Julia Cameron if you’re listening, you need to do a version of this book for the tortured/depressed/anti social/truly fucked up Van Goghs amongst us who don’t have the energy or stability to juggle or cope with all of life’s tedious shit, otherwise I’m going to be one penniless artist soon.
You could call it ‘The Tortured Artists Way – An Inevitable Path to Making Room for Stress, Shit and Drudgery’ and have a picture of a bloody dripping ear and some drone having a nervous breakdown in right hand margin instead of that old mountain/birds shot for a change?
You could have chapters like:
Recovering a Sense of Responsibility You Flake!
Recovering the Ability to Stab People in the Back
Recovering the Skill of Brown Nosing till you Gag
Recovering a Sense of Duplicity
Recovering the Ability to Dodge That Shove When a Bus Goes By
And urge your readers to:
Drag yourself from ‘the page’ and turn up at the Office
Write Lines (not morning pages) when you first wake up, e.g. ‘I must finish that presentation today’ until you are so tense you regurgitate your Shreddies on the tube
Make your artist eat lunch at his/her desk (date – hah!)
Write down what your parents wanted you to be, you selfish bitch
Sell your soul to the devil
I am of course being facetious here, there are other areas of my life apart from work that I also neglect, and I might be the only person that does this, but applying for jobs online does this to a person.
I know I need to earn a crust, but I also need to believe in what I’m doing so I’m looking at working for a charity. That said if I thought charitable organisations might be anything other that riddled with systematic corporate bullshit, then I was sadly mistaken.
‘Apply for this job, it’s perfect for you!’ chirps a very positive pop up on the charity website I was targeting today.
So I did.
‘This is why you are not right for this job’ alludes the faulty, ambiguous application software gloomily, ‘I really don’t know why you are bothering. Go watch Jeremy Kyle.’
I also had to remember the exact dates of each and every job/move/qualification in my vast, endless working life, which started 35 years ago. Eh? I can barely remember what I had for breakfast, do me a favour. Are you really going to check?
And my favourite bit?
‘Some people are either physically limited/handicapped or are as mental as you, completely unstable and quite frankly shouldn’t be allowed in Asda unescorted without being forced into muzzle, let alone the workplace.
Are you one of these people? WELL? ARE YOU?’
How do you answer that?
‘Probably, but what the hell, I’ll give it a go’?
‘Yes I am, but I’m going to apply anyway!’
‘Yes I am, but you are a MENTAL HEALTH CHARITY! Have a bit of fucking empathy already!’
Too fragile to face corporate bullshit, too over qualified to work in the £1 shop, no wonder I keep procrastinating over jumping through these tedious, pointless, futile hoops.
Someone should open an agency for the likes of us called:
‘We Make The Rest Of You Look Like That Fucking John Major Puppet From Spitting Image And Have More Creativity And Passion In Our Little Toe Nail Than You Have In Your Entire Company So Snap Us Up Before We Get Sectioned Again.Com’
In the meantime, I have resolved to (a) apply for something every day whilst (b) looking at making/selling stuff myself, plus (c) meditating and hoping that the big Dragon’s Den idea pops into my head so I can make a mint, become world famous, buy my mill/lighthouse/cottage by the sea and blog relentlessly until I develop bed sores on my arse.
In the meantime, I’m back at the easel again.
Julia I’m banking on your God to save me from this Groundhog Day hell, otherwise I want my £14.99 back, OK?