Sitting (or Wallowing) in Discomfort

How to write when you want to do anything but.

As I sit here to write today, I wish I could say I had a big idea or gripping story. In truth, I grumbled over to my notebook, muttering about how inspiration just hasn’t visited me today. I searched about me constantly, as I wrote a word or two, looking for anything that may steal my attention away from this dreadful task I had put myself up to.

Now, you may be wondering why I’ve decided to bore you all with this treacherous tale of my uninspired mind. The reason is, that I’m still here. Call it the fate of the Universe, or whatever you will, but just as I’m about to renounce all hope of coming by a fully formed sentence, I stumble across a Ted Talk called ‘The Art of Discomfort’ by Leigh Bardugo, bestselling author of the Shadow and Bone series.

Naturally, I’m intrigued. I’m halfway through my pizza, and this ten-minute video will time the end of my meal quite nicely. I watch as she drops truth after truth on the reality of being an artist – of believing discomfort is a sign to stop and abandon ship. Of romanticising the final project rather than living in the process. She talks about movies and social media glamourising the ‘big idea’ where everything falls into place, followed by a montage of perfect execution which of course leads to the perfect product, instead of the days and hours of revision that lead up to the final project. She also discusses the fantasy of a great new idea, until it all at once becomes real and less attractive, and suddenly you don’t know why you even liked the idea in the first place – before the next shiny idea catches your eye glinting in the corner and you’re in the honeymoon phase once again.

I mean, I fall guilty of every single thing that she mentioned. When I feel discomfort, I do every possible thing to avoid it. But really, discomfort is where the treasure lies. While I’m sat there eating the remnants of my now cold pizza, I’m suddenly monologuing this entire blog post in my head, which admittedly is no stroke of genius, but definitely far better than the two words I was previously trying to string together.

It feels easier to start again over and over, to get that perfect idea, that perfect sentence, that perfect start. But even if you did manage to get it, if you looked at it too long it wouldn’t feel perfect anymore. It would suddenly grow extra fingers and maybe go a little lopsided. Instead, as Leigh goes on to say, ‘the genius is in the revision.’ It’s in accepting your bad days and welcoming them as part of the process. It’s acknowledging that you don’t know everything, but you can always try to learn. While it feels a lot of the time that the prize is in the acknowledgement and recognition of your brilliant artistry and skills, especially in a world so focused on the end goal, the real prize is in the creation itself.

Another brilliant quote from Leigh: ‘We’ve confused the reward of creating with the reward of being praised.’

Sometimes, you just have to write like no one is listening. Or reading. Or watching? It’s getting away from me now…

So, here I am. Ignoring the part of my brain that is telling me to put my pen down and to go and do something else, as well as the part that refuses to be inspired today.

Ramona: 1, Discomfort: 0

I win this round today. I’m sure there will be a re-match very soon…