How to Overcome Limitations (And Make the Things You Want to Make)

How to Overcome Limitations (And Make the Things You Want to Make)

My wife and I don’t have a lot of space to create the things we like to make. Living in a one-bedroom apartment means making something often involves moving things around and other inconveniences just to get started. (We do at least have a small study where I write and where my wife stores her art and sewing supplies.)

Moving things around is what it takes to get things done, and I respect that about my wife. (I have it much easier as a writer, although making videos requires a lot of setup.) We’ve made a lot of things we love in the almost 22 years we’ve been together, and looking back…I’m not sure we’ve ever lived somewhere with proper space to do all the things we do.

I Can’t, Until…

I see a lot of people say they can’t start doing something until…

  • Until they get the right writing desk…
  • Until they get the right podcasting gear…
  • Until they get the right studio…
  • Until they get the right computer…
  • Until they get the right camera…

If I waited until things were just perfect to write, podcast, or do other things I enjoy doing, I’d still be waiting.

Making Due (With What’s Available)

I do look forward to a day when limitations aren’t such a big thing in the things we make, but I’ve sold travel articles with photos taken with an old Pentax K1000. My wife and I have pushed affordable computers beyond what they’re supposed to do
. A perfect office with a nice desk and view would be great, but I write in what’s a bit of a storage space with no outside view because that’s my reality.

I know a lot of people who do the same.

Why I Like This Photo

Friday evening, my wife took this photo:

Cynthia Griffith's Art Table (with Martini)

And yes, that’s a fireplace behind her table. It was used once last winter because my wife started doing art.

That’s her art space in the living room. In order to do her thing, she has to gather supplies from the study and move a storage footrest she uses as a seat. I like the photo because it’s like a celebration to creating in spite of limitations. While she would love a room of her own and a better desk (and other surfaces) on which to make art (and work on her sewing, which requires even more setup — not that she lets that stop her), she makes due with what she has.

So cheers to all those who don’t let limitations stop them from doing what they love doing. It may be a pain in the ass moving your living room around to do art, sew a historical costume, or work with cheap photography gear, but it beats the alternative of, “I can’t do this until…”

Not Everything Needs to Be Monetized

Not Everything Needs to Be Monetized

My wife makes costumes like this:

cfgriffith.com - Chemise a la Reine

And this:

cfgriffith.com - Wood Elf

And even this:

cfgriffith.com - Badass Elf

More at cfgriffith.com

She does art like this:

cfgriffith.com - King Thror and Carc

And this:

cfgriffith.com - Gloin Locket

More at cfgriffith.deviantart.com

When people see what she does, the first words that often leave their mouths?

“You should do this for money!”

Monetize It!

The Internet is a wonderful thing. My wife and I think it’s so cool that there are people making livings by creating and selling things online. Some make supplemental income; some make more from home than people starting up large companies with their MBAs.

It’s all great, but…the obsession with monetizing everything can get very old, very fast. There often comes with the attitude that everything should be monetized a sense that someone shouldn’t do something solely for the love of creating
.

Why not make money doing that thing you love, right? [Putting aside that people are allowed to do what they want to do for their own reasons] because…some people believe there is no better reason to make something than simply because one enjoys creating. For many, there’s more pleasure in the act of just making things than making things and then spending all that extra time turning it into a business.

Not everything that can make money has to make money.

The Downside of Monetizing Things

I blog, podcast, and do other things online. I sometimes attend tech groups and speak at tech groups about making things. The meetups that seem to draw the most attendees are those promising to show others how to monetize what they are doing. I’ll go as far as saying there is a strange obsession with monetizing things online. I’ve seen well-known bloggers come out and say:

“I’m about to embark on the project that means more to me than anything I’ve ever done…this is from my heart!”

Two months later, when it’s not making money, they bail on this thing they claim meant more to them than anything ever before. Maybe I’m wired differently, but if you have a project that means more to you than anything else in your heart — ever — you work on that project whether it makes money or not!

If you don’t, all I can assume is that your whole, “It means more than anything to me!” was a marketing ploy, and you’ve destroyed all trust I had in you and the things you make.

An [Often] Fast Path to Mediocre

I’ve seen great content become soured in a race for more ad revenue or a larger audience. As a podcaster, I often see people talk about how some shows they do get more listens than many of the shows they love doing. Because the thought of money is the driving force behind what’s being done, good shows about topics most dear to the hearts of the creators become like so many other shows that do little more than aggregate content.

Suddenly, we have another run-of-the-mill tech or entertainment podcast with little to no original content. Blogs are written whether there’s something good to write about or not because it’s a numbers game in hope of ad clicks. Over time, what started out as good content often becomes mediocre (at best) because content is created out of a panic to keep money coming in.

Worse than all that, sometimes the people behind the sites can’t get through the line at a grocery store or stand beside you at a urinal in a bathroom without giving you their pitch.

Desperation, frequency, and volume are not endearing traits.

Back to my Wife (and Why She Does Art Only for Herself These Days)

My wife understands that in its own way, “You should do this for money!” is a compliment — people see what she does and they feel it’s worthy of being paid for. It’s strange, though, because the compliments often come with a tone that my wife has never considered making money with her art.

She has…

I won’t go into great detail, but I know many artists whose art jobs become this:

  1. They end up on a contract for something they don’t really want to draw or paint.
  2. They work through the contract, getting approval for all stages of work.
  3. Near the end, someone higher up says, “I want something totally different!”
  4. The artist says, “Pay out on this contract, and I’ll write up a new contract for what your big boss wanted all along, but never mentioned to you.”
  5. Big boss gets wind of this and shouts: “I’m not paying for something I don’t want to use!”
  6. The original contract is either paid out and the work never used or now the artist is spending more time and money trying to collect what’s owed to them than they are creating art.

I know this is not the case for every artist. I have friends who are artists who do their own thing and make very strong livings doing what they love. But for every artist like that, there are more artists I know trying to collect on past due accounts or illustrating licensed content and other things they don’t enjoy creating, solely for the paycheck.

It’s Sew Easy

It’s not unheard of that my wife gets email from strangers asking her to sew them something. My wife passes by on offers to sew things for others, and some people find that perplexing. But why would someone who loves sewing their own things, on their own schedule, drop that to sew 40 of the same bonnets on an in-house assembly line when that is not what they find any pleasure in doing? (Or may not have room to do without turning several rooms into workspaces and be constantly reminded that they are not sewing what they want?)

Just like we have artist friends who live a life of nightmares collecting on accounts, seamstress friends of my wife have been ridiculed when they quote a price for something that’s deemed too high in the mind of the requester who doesn’t understand that the cost of material alone is twice what they are willing to pay — never mind the 60+ hours of labor! If fabric runs $250 for a gown and you’re putting over a week into the project, the last thing you want is to deal with an angry person online, screaming that you wouldn’t do it for $75!

It can be great making a living doing what you love, but it’s not always easy. Worse, it can make the pleasure of something you once loved a thing of the past.

You’re Crazy!

There are things I will only do for myself, solely for the joy it brings me. I once juggled for money, but…never again. I’ve written magazine and newspaper articles that made more in one piece than almost all fiction I’ve written combined. I won’t rule out certain articles in the future, because I’ve enjoyed the pieces I’ve written, but when it comes down to limited time and making guaranteed money with another article or writing another chapter of a novel that may never see publication, I choose the novel. And not just any novel: I write what I want to write, regardless of what happens when it’s done.

A handful of years ago, a friend in a position to pass along my second novel to the kinds of people who can make publication a reality offered to pass along anything I wanted that suited the genre. The book, the first in a series, is something I had fun writing, but there are other things I want to write even more. When some people heard I passed on that offer, the replies were a resounding:

You’re crazy!

I disagree; to have accepted this generous offer would have meant not writing the book I wanted to write more than anything I’d written at that point in my life. (The novel-in-progress now holds that title.) Part of the reason I write is to push myself to write things I wasn’t 100% sure I could pull off. These are the kinds of books that take a longer time to write. The novel I didn’t have passed on to publishers was written over a period of months, mostly during lunch breaks at my day job at the time.

I have different goals than some as a writer.

All This Said, I Understand Monetizing Things

To some, it may sound like I’m against monetizing things.

I’m not!

I have friends who make a living from the things they love online (and offline). These are people who did the thing they love and figured out a way to make that thing work. There was no polling the audience to see what worked best and leaning heavily on those things…they built loyal followings doing their thing and monetized their content.

I think that’s wonderful! I will never shake my head at someone monetizing the thing that’s wholly theirs…that they love making. If I could make a living writing the fiction I love writing, I would. I won’t change to something I don’t want to write as much, just to make a living writing fiction, but my goal has always been to make money with the writing I love doing. But just as there’s nothing wrong with monetizing something you love, there is nothing wrong with not monetizing something you love.

Many people don’t seem to get that…

Halfway There

Halfway There

There exists the possibility that I am more than halfway done with my life…or that I’m not even halfway there. But let’s assume I make it to 90: today is the halfway point of my life.

I had a much longer post in honor of turning 45, one in which I looked back at my life in 5-year intervals and offered advice to my past self, but as I’ve gotten older — even if something interests me — there comes a point where I think:

“I could be hanging out with my wife right now…”
“I could be working on a novel right now…”
“I could be out for a walk right now…”

How I Spend My Time

There are so many other things I choose to focus on if I’m going to spend an hour or two making something. It’s not that the longer entry I had originally written didn’t hold my interest or that it wasn’t good…I just found it taking effort that I would rather spend on other things.

I feel that way more and more as I get older
. It’s no revelation — I’ve known the day would come when I didn’t care to consume as much and share my thoughts about what I take in.

Advice to My Future Self

So instead of looking back at the first 45 years of my life, I look ahead with a focus on what works for me:

Take time to do a handful of things that mean the most to you as well as you can…and then push yourself even more. Let the rest fall away. (You do not have to do all the things.)

More than ever, strive for quality over quantity.

Unless your day job is your passion, a job is a job. It doesn’t hurt if it’s a good job, but at the end of your life, no one is going to be at your deathbed saying, “Thank you for giving up so much of your life to 60-hour weeks working on something that we no longer even do!”

To that point, it would be really sad to look back at the end of your life and think, “Man, those years spent arguing online about politics, pop culture, or the rage du jour sure were my best days…”

Find the silence in the moment, and never be afraid to be alone with just your thoughts for hours; in fact, use your brain before using your smartphone (or whatever distraction comes along next) to satisfy the urge to be “doing something.”

Even if you are right, yelling at walls is a poor way to spend your time when it can be spent doing much more productive things.

Be okay with being alone. And when you’re with other people, let their company remind you that in friendship and love, you have the most important thing there is.

 

The Silence Carried

The Silence Carried

While I’m not the most worldly traveler — having never seen another country outside of Canada — when it comes to the United States, I’ve seen quite a bit. I carry with me parts of the places I have been.

I’ve been fortunate to have traveled a fair amount on my own, finding comfort in the sounds that only I’ve created. While others on business trips find the nearest bar so they can drink into the night and talk about old jobs where they did exactly the same, I’m more likely to head out in search of places many locals never find.

If I’m there, why not see all a place has to offer?

East Texas

I’ve hiked around the Pacific Northwest and wandered through alleys in Seattle in search of the kinds of restaurants that look like a movie set from another country. I’ve driven across the desert Southwest in a huge boat-of-a-car painted in house paint
. I’ve juggled beneath the cottonwood tree in front of the lodge at Zion National Park; also among the pillars of Bryce Canyon, and even on the edge of the Grand Canyon. I spent two months in Atlanta on my own, becoming enough of a regular at a vegan soul food restaurant that when I went in for brunch on the weekend — knowing I was in a strange town and away from my wife — they packed lunch and dinner in my to-go bag just because that’s the kind of people they were.

I’ve been all over the US, sleeping under trees and beneath the stars, but I’m not sure I’ve seen any place as magical as the woods of East Texas.

Civilian Conservation Corps Pavilion at Caddo Lake State Park

Retreat

Last week, a friend and I left the day jobs behind and took off for Caddo Lake State Park for our annual writing retreat. I’d been there twice before, when I got my first travel writing assignment for the Dallas Morning News. It was nice to finally see it in spring. Pollen be damned, once the car doors opened, the smell of pines brought me back to being a kid camping in Wisconsin and Canada. It was like returning to a home that was never wholly mine, but still a location that came with a sense of belonging like few places I’ve ever been.

A long weekend retreat is no different for productivity than taking a Friday off and staying home to write. Hell, I could probably get more writing done at home if I dedicated a weekend to writing, but that’s not what a retreat is about.

Last weekend was a commitment to something I do not have to do. I’ve heard many writers say, “I have to write!” as though they were in pain. It always struck me as a bit dramatic, a way to convince themselves they are a writer only in some perceived mood because many times it’s not backed by action. The annual retreat is a reminder that I am serious about this thing I do not have to do; it’s something I carry with me even after I’ve packed up and left.

Caddo Lake State Park Cabin

The World Will Not Win

So cut me off in traffic, yell at your kid in the grocery store, or try to bombard me with advertising. I won’t let you in because, in my head, it’s still a silent night in East Texas that cannot be taken from me. It’s also the sound of the pine trees of Lake of the Woods in Ontario. It’s a sky full of stars on a mountain top in Utah or the ocean below me as I hike past the sign in Oregon warning hikers that bears are in the area. It’s the slapping of juggling clubs in the hands of jugglers at a weekly gathering in Atlanta or even walking a Chicago neighborhood to get a beef sandwich at three in the morning when the big city is as asleep as it ever gets, slumbering with one eye open.

My head is full of the sound of corn and wheat in the breeze and waters rushing by with enough fury to carve canyons or gently lapping at the rocky banks of lakes as big as oceans. These are the locations that, once visited and experienced, never leave your head.

There is an agreement struck with these places: “Give yourself to me for even a moment, and I will always walk with you.”

Pinecone and lichen

Achievement Unlocked!

Achievement Unlocked!

I first saw Space Invaders in an Osco drug in Mundelein, Illinois in the late 70s. It’s fair enough to say that it changed my life.

I had piles of Atari 2600 games, and I was the first kid in the neighborhood to have a ColecoVision. I had a subscription to Joystick magazine, and when the nearby Pinball Palace didn’t satisfy my love for video games, an arcade across town with more games did. I jumped on most home consoles when they came out; I spent late nights and early mornings playing games in arcades while others were shutting down bars. I was a video game junkie.

Somewhere along the way, that faded away…

The Choice

I stopped playing video games after the initial version of the X-Box came out. By that time, as much as I like games, I was done. It wasn’t that I came to a point that I no longer liked games — I just looked at the free time I had and thought about how I was spending it. The choice was simple: I could play games in my free time or…I could write, podcast, blog, and do other things.

It’s a personal choice. I don’t care how people spend their free time, but for me, other things won out over games…

Goat Simulator

Earlier this month, Goat Simulator came out.

It wasn’t just the first video game I bought in almost a decade…I pre-ordered it!

The Friday I got access, I played for a couple hours. Over that weekend, my wife and I had a couple beers and played the hell out of the stupidity that is a goat running around town while destroying things
.

When we got the goat into orbit, we figured it was time to stop.

Achievement Unlocked

There are about 25% more achievements to be unlocked in our Goat Simulator game, but…I will never unlock them on my system. The remaining achievements are “video game” achievements — by that, I mean the kinds of things where one has to jump perfectly to reach certain points to jump again and again to hopefully land just right in order to unlock an achievement.

For me, that’s where video games lose me. If I’m going the spend hours fixated on something, why spend that time jumping a goat on trampolines and dirty mattresses just so I can say, “I was in the storage container on the crane!” (Especially when I can see others do it on YouTube.)

If I’m going to spend that much time on my computer, I’d rather knock out another chapter of a novel or edit another podcast — that’s a better achievement for me…

What is Art?

What is Art?

This article on Rolling Stone’s website about Wu Tang Clan’s most recent album led me to the website about the project.

If you’re not in the mood for links and reading, here’s the short version: a hip-hop group is releasing only one copy of their latest album. To hear it, you will have to go to a museum or gallery and listen. After that, the one physical copy will be sold like a work of art…possibly never to be heard again — or at least for a long, long time. (Or maybe mass produced right after sale.)

But is it Art?

Some would say, “Is it art?” and many who simply don’t get a style of music would say, “No!”

But music is art — even if you don’t like it. Like the person who looks at a [good] abstract and says, “My kid can paint that!” so goes a certain ignorance with [good] hip hop.

One may not like Wu Tang Clan; however, I can name many artists I do not like, but can still look at and appreciate their effort, what they stand for, and the conversations that arise from their work. Wu Tang Clan seems to understand this — from the linked site above:

By adopting a 400 year old Renaissance-style approach to music, offering it as a commissioned commodity and allowing it to take a similar trajectory from creation to exhibition to sale, as any other contemporary art piece, we hope to inspire and intensify urgent debates about the future of music. We hope to steer those debates toward more radical solutions and provoke questions about the value and perception of music as a work of art in today’s world.

Many may not agree with that, but I think it’s cool as hell!

Old Ways

I think the reason this fascinates me so much is it’s something I’ve thought about a lot in the past year and a half. I’ve mentioned before that if someone approached me and said, “I will pay you this nice, annual fee to write a novel every other year and several short stories each year — that only I can ever read,” I’d take their patronage. Patrons used to be more common, and in the case of Wu Tang Clan…music used to not be as far reaching as it is today.

There was a time when, to hear music, you had to be present as it was played or you didn’t hear it
.

Art and Effort

For me, writing is about the work — the art in the effort — and not about the fame (that is rare for most writers anyway). I’ve thought about this very thing: creating a single, beautiful book and selling it to an individual like a piece of art. Much like a painting, what the buyer chose to do after the sale would be up to them. But there’s something appealing about a work only a handful of people — or only one other person — may ever see.

Even if this were a hoax, it’s already getting people talking, and that’s great. Even better, though, is imagining the mix of people in museums and galleries all bobbing their heads in unison as music only they and a select group of others will hear plays just for them through headphones…

…and the rest of us will only hear through their stories…