Not everyone wants to sell their work, but for those that do it’s a different kind of struggle, a more complicated one with a lot of mixed feelings. But you can do it well, in a way that sustains your work and brings value to the world, though you’ve probably got to re-calibrate some of your thinking to do so.

I never learned to fight, but I got picked on plenty in school. And then my mother put me in Judo and like a wimpier version of the Karate Kid, I learned to take a fall, and I learned to respect the fight and fear it less. This episode isn’t about Judo, and I’d still prefer to be a lover, not a fighter, but as the creative life contains more than its share of struggle, we should probably talk about it. I also get around to explaining the fish on the album art; trust me, it’s relevant.

In ancient greek mythology there were 9 muses, responsible for the worlds of literature, science and the arts. They were the sources of inspiration, minor goddesses who could be credited and praised for the best of our creative efforts, and I suppose, blamed when it all went to shit and nothing was flowing. The problem with muses is that they aren’t forces external to ourselves. They are neither our creative salvation nor the ones responsible for whatever version of writer’s block applies to your specific creative endeavours. The problem with muses is precisely that they are us and we are them. You can’t wait for inspiration, you have to get to work.

This episode is an exploration of some of the distractions that keep us from our best work and getting more easily into the flow, and the need for time, focus, and solitude to get more reliably to that flow.

It’s common-practice to describe our art-making efforts as either amateur or professional, the amateurs often feeling they aren’t “real” artists when in fact some of the great creative efforts have been made by people who hung on to a so-called real-job and did their work in the margins, do it “merely” for the love of it. But there’s nothing mere about love and just because you do this part-time doesn’t mean it won’t take full-time commitment.

This is an episode about the struggle to be (and become) fully ourselves. Defiantly so, even.

This is a conversation about the insufficiency of craft and imitation in the creation of art that is authentic to who you are, and the need for courage above all things in this pursuit.

On the surface perfectionism sounds like one of those flaws you readily admit to because really it’s a modest way of saying, see, I’m not perfect after all, but really, I’m pretty close. Like you're admitting to being flawed like everyone else but that your particular vice is the relentless pursuit of having no vices. It’s like you’re saying, "no, really, I’m not the person you think I am. Sometimes I rescue too many kittens, or give too much money away.” Oh, me? I’m a perfectionist. Like you’re just too much of a good thing.

And you know when you stack that up against all the other crap that we sweep into the dark corners and hope no one will see, it’s pretty benign. But in the creative life, if what we’re talking about is the way we make things, and get things done, the idea of perfect and the quixotic search for it, is deeply self-sabotaging.

Without exceptions the most fruitful times in my creative life, and I include my business in this, because I am making my business just like I make photographs or write books, the most fruitful times are the ones in which I hustle and work hard. Sometimes it’s the work of generating ideas, or connecting to my audience, other times it’s getting the new website done, the new book written, or the new client project off the ground. If we all had nothing else to do and no other complications in our lives this would be hard enough. But add life into the mix - kids, spouses, running a household, and all the other distractions and you can be forgiven for thinking it's a miracle we get anything done at all. I want to help you find that miracle more often.

I don’t think we’re hard-wired to be able to deal with this much information, this many so-called friends, fans, and followers and likes and news clips from corners of the globe we are powerless to change. Our hearts and minds aren’t large enough to contain, much less filter, the many voices and images we take in. And if you’re a creative person, seeing the flood of other people’s work, their successes and awards, and being exposed to a volume of thoughts and chatter that no generation on the planet has ever had to deal with: it’s just too much raging water through pipes too small. It’s too much noise.