Apologies, there is no audio to accompany this week!
The lone-genius stereotype of artistry continues to endure. It’s strange, because the very reason many of us make anything is to connect, and the yet, due to the process being so uncertain, it can be difficult to stand beside someone who undertakes it. The process can drive other people away, or we ourselves might need to separate ourselves at times. But I believe that we aren’t meant to make art alone. I wanted this week to talk about community, its value and how grateful I am to it.
A pleasing shorthand and the importance of cheerleaders
Last year, I was lucky enough to go the Arteles Residency in Finland for a whole month (I’ve talked more about this before here). The group was comprised of artists working across forms - including a printmaker, musician, painter, sound artist, sculptor, etc. As the only writer attendee, this was a really new and exciting experience for me to learn about how other artists in very different disciplines work. What became clear very quickly, however, is that we all - regardless of medium - wanted to talk and think about what it meant to be an artist, this vocation we were all incredibly passionate about. And therefore, between us, a pleasing shorthand was possible. There’s so much mystery around what the writer/artist is actually doing most of the time (Talking? Thinking? Day dreaming? Is this anything?) and whether or not this makes any sense in a world driven by earning a living. We understood many of the same struggles of doing our kind of work without having to explain why this was a struggle at all to each other. What a relief!
But beyond peers or fellow artists, however, we also have certain ‘gatekeepers’: as a writer this includes agents, publishers, and book sellers, etc. There is a power imbalance here between artists and those who help get the art seen. But these are also ideally the people who enable my art to reach an audience - and they are often not simply ‘gatekeepers’ (as disgruntled artists may feel) but also teammates. As much as the process will require work that can come only from me, it will be impossible to become a success if I don’t open up and trust others to help me get where I need to go, and we all have to work together to get anywhere at all. I’ve seen a lot of writers complain publicly about this, and while bad behaviour shouldn’t be tolerated, there should always be the sense that we are working towards the same goal before saying yes to working with anyone on anything. It is a fine line between gratitude for an opportunity and prostrating yourself at the feet of an ego that does not have your best interests at heart. Knowing the difference is a challenge.
The right support system, the right believers, makes the difference between success and failure. Because as much as we like to say that everything has to come from the individual — that a person must be self-motivated to succeed — this is never really a truthful reflection of all that has gone into getting to that point. Tolstoy’s wife rewrote his incomprehensible drafts into novels. And to quote Jenny Offill:
“Nabokov didn't even fold his own umbrella. Vera licked his stamps for him.”
Not everything has to come from you. Not everything can come from you. You are going to need help. We all do. The best of the best didn’t hustle alone. We cannot become really great at what we do without encouragement, mentorship, teaching, and guidance. We need cheerleaders, people who believe in us, and whether they understand what we are doing or not, we need people who are unfailingly on our team.
My incredible peers (and how to find yours)
I wouldn’t be half the writer I am without my friends who also write. Making anything attracts an ego; a strong ego is essential to the impulse to create, I think. The ‘solitary writer’ stereotype does play out with some degree of truth — of course you will need to be fine with being alone if you are to get anything done long term. However, having moments of collaboration, even if this is simply the act of working in parallel on our individual tasks, provides a much-needed break from the norm.
So if you’re feeling lonely or in need of more community, I’d like to suggest the following thoughts on finding and connecting with your peers:
Lead with vulnerability. Be open to exchange.
It’s funny though how being vulnerable with a fellow artist can be really confronting - perhaps even more confronting than telling a non-artist what you’re passionate about, or talking about your various vulnerabilities with an ‘audience’. Many of us shy away from sharing our work with people we admire who work in similar ways, because it’s horrifying to think they may not like it. But if you share tastes with artists you know, it is really worth going out on a limb. Developing a way to exchange work can alter a practice forever. In my case, my group with whom I do critique work in very different styles/genres, but this doesn’t really matter. I learn from what they are doing and they learn from me. We talk about the issues we’re unpacking, and have vigorous debates about language that always add to the experience of making. One of my more recent memorable discussions centred around the consumption of tea in the 1600s. It was fun to talk about something like that with people who understand why this would even be worth the discussion. We can be honest about what we are each hoping to achieve. These talks serve to improve my own sense of taste. And at the end of the day, this is a worthy goal - very much worth the risk.
Be a ‘beginner’, and remember that people will come and go.
I think some of us tell ourselves that we are above certain groups - particularly free or less established cohorts. Of course these groups are very hit and miss, and I’ve experienced many that are much more miss than hit. However, all my closest writer friends came from a free meetup group that I joined in 2015 when I was brand new to London and didn’t know anyone. The nature of these kinds of groups are that they are transitory. Even so, the good ones will stick around. It can be very worthwhile to enter a group like this with a ‘beginner’s mind’ and just see what happens. You might only find one other person, but then you have the chance to grow together. And with growth comes change. People do outgrow certain groups, or need different things at different times. But I will never regret putting in the work to show up and be consistent in getting to know people who also attended those groups. I will never regret showing up and asking questions.
Apply for the schemes, residencies and other programmes. Or pay for a course (if you can!).
These can also be very hit and miss. There are literally thousands of them and anything that comes with a group dynamics component is very worth considering. From the London Writers Award through to the Arteles residency, I am grateful to have come away with incredible connections through these schemes. And if you have the money to spend, a course can be a great way to meet new people who are doing the work that you’re doing. This might be obvious stuff, but I think people assume their loneliness is a given. It’s not a given. Find a course or scheme that isn’t prohibitive and get stuck in. You might just make some friends for life.
Remember that ‘mystique’ isn’t always worth it
Artists have a mystique that often can get in the way of true friendship. Being unavailable is also just part of the ‘looking busy’ aesthetic most of us seem to want to embody in the modern world. But think twice before acting like you’re ‘too busy’ for a fellow creative. We might genuinely be too busy - that’s understandable - but it’s always good to put this in perspective and communicate if so. After all, when you need help and support, will you need to call upon someone who you’ve failed to be there for in the past? The journey is long and has very big ups and downs. Not a lot of people can provide the support you need for this abstract journey. This is just basic boundary-keeping and upholding of standards. And there’s no clear way to navigate this at all times - there will be times when we let people down or can’t show up the way they need us to. But regardless, taking the opportunities when we can to both be a great supporter and ask for support creates the balance we need to succeed.
Don’t give in to the curse of competition.
Competition between creatives can be such a huge detractor of true friendship and peerage. It’s a weird thing that many of us feel as though there can only be room for one. In actual fact, helping each other grow our work and get our foot in the door is more likely to raise all of us and push all of us to succeed. I have certainly witnessed fellow writers who were very unhappy to hear about my successes. How can we ever become peers if you want me to fail? Jealousy or ‘scarcity’ thinking is something everyone goes through (me included), because it’s hard not to be jealous when things go well for others and badly for ourselves. But at some point, we have to let this feeling go. We must grow secure enough in our own journey to know that just because someone else is succeeding, it does not mean we won’t.
The long and short of it
Artists need other artists to grow a practice. We can learn so much from each other, no matter what kind of work we do. We also need support from non-artists and good friends, because you don’t always want to have other artistic egos to deal with, and the reality is that even artists can get things wrong. A diversity of cheerleaders helps us navigate an uncertain path.
We all want connection, and finding cheerleaders for our goals is just part of what it means to be a human working towards realising a vision for our own lives. It doesn’t matter who the person is: a good rule I’ve learned (the hard way) is that if you aren’t treated as an important equal by someone who you have to keep close to you, then that person is not a good teammate. It doesn’t matter who they are or who they think they are.
I am so grateful to my community of writer and artist friends. I don’t know where I’d be without them, and I’m also always so excited to discuss and discover new ways of getting this work done. And once you find the right people, who are happy to go through the ups and downs together, there are so many possibilities for improving each other’s experience of this journey. From writing retreats to cafe therapy sessions to forming new critique exchanges, I benefit greatly from sharing my process with my friends. All the activities we engage with together help me become the best writer possible.
(With big thanks to my critique gang/Piccadilly Commas/Broadstairs Bitches and my Forest Friends. I love you guys.)