Creativity occurs in five phases - inspiration, concentration, organisation, implementation and sustenance. Women who have lost one or more of these phases often claim they can't think of anything. They become distracted by love affairs, tiredness, fear of failure, too much work or too much escapism. Very often, there are signs of strong beginnings - endless unfinished projects scattered about the floor, lots of ideas and big plans but never any gestation. Stuck at the inspiration phase, they are dissatisfied with the results, frustrated and unfulfilled. Here, we find the creator seeking approval - taking another degree, booking onto yet another self-development course or refusing to see their achievement until a 'real publisher/writer/artist/gallery etc' recognise its value. At other times, she hides, under siege from the negative criticism from the uninvited squatters in her head, yammering away with a stream of judgments...
And the woman, weakened and harassed by these harpies, comes up with her defences, polluting the river over again...
I can't do it... I haven't got enough time/ money/ space/ experience/ training/ equipment... I'll do it when the children grow up/ when I can afford to/ when I retire/when I have a studio/when I finish this course ... I need to look after my partner/ child/ parents/ dog/ cat/ house/ neighbours...
Yikes! The list is endless, believe me...and once we give up our river, our life force, because of some distorted idea of over-responsibility or respectability, the harpies come in and steal our dreams. And that applies to men and women alike! So the first lesson, that is learnt over and over and over...
Life is not meant to be lived in stolen moments
There is no such thing as your spare time
Life is not to be controlled by should and must
No matter how demanding your life is - and it can be very demanding - your own creative, deep life is not meant to be a secondary option. Without it, you will dry up and fizzle out. It is vital that the necessity of nourishing your soul-life is recognised by yourself and those around you. And if they can't...then you have some difficult questions to ask. Without a doubt, if you do not do this, your spirit will slowly suffocate and you will wake up one day and wonder who it is that is living in your life. And if you still don't listen then pretty soon, you will wake up to a tidal wave of destructive sludge heading your way.
It isn't easy, I won't pretend it is. But it is possible. Have courage! Let's shoot those harpies and clear that river!
SHOOTING THE HARPIES
The following exercise can be done alone, or in pairs. Take a piece of paper and write on the left side HARPIES and on the right side, WILD WOMAN. On the left, write the statements that block or hinder or attack your creativity, that undermine your soul-full life. On the right, write down strong, positive, powerful affirmations that nourish your creative life force. For example, here is one from my own list:
HARPIES
Why would anyone be interested in reading what I have to say?
WILD WOMAN
What you have to say is a unique expression of your being in this world and because of that, it is valuable. When you share your heart, you help connect the world in love.
When we did this as a group, we worked in pairs, so we did it slightly differently. Each person wrote down and shared their own particular harpies, whilst their partner responded with the Wild Woman counter-balance - making sure that they did not use a should or must in their reply. It is amazing how daft our own harpies sound when we say them allowed to another - and how simple the counter-answer sounds in our ears when spoken by someone else! We then shared them as a group, along with much laughter and also tears, because it hurts to admit how much we hurt ourselves. In sharing that vulnerability though, something special happened in the group. From that point on, we knew the voices in each other's heads and we could help each other, wounded as we might be, limp onward!
Of course, it isn't as easy as just saying them out loud. You then have to work on them, listening deeply so you can catch them when they start to attack. But having the counter-attack helps swipe them away until they become simply an irritating fly buzzing around - easily dismissed and swotted away. Stick your list up somewhere you can see it and use it as ammunition when you need it. Or, as we began to call it - get the HARPIC out...you can see which particular harpy this comes from by reading on. Thanks to Gill and Ruth, for agreeing to share their original harpies and their quest to rid them!
RUTH
My original harpies were:
Darkness of emptiness, grief, pain at life's bitterness -
bloody hell, get the violins out! Well I've definitely slain that one.
Work? What work do you do? (genuine quote from a bitchy neighbour!) - I'm not a proper writer -
definitely slain that one with a silver bullet and laid it in the grave!
Rushed, always rushing - put out the bins, wash up, make the beds, do the shopping, tidy up, sort out washing etc etc - the life of a busy single mum of three -
well definitely cracked that one too - I've got a house husband now!
`Talk talk talk' always on the phone.
Mmmm - not exactly cracked that one, but actually it's been transformed now - I don't see it as a harpy any more, more socialising (necessary for sanity of isolated writers) and networking.
So I've got rid of all of them. The only one that really attacks me now is the
`nobody wants to publish my work' harpy.
The bastard!!!! I'd better kill that one off too...
GILL
HARPICS…that was what I used to call them- mainly because mine were about not being a good enough house-wifey and mummy at the time Wild Women started. There was no way I could write anything until I had scoured my house from top to bottom and swabbed every birds nest in the woods(- a la Billy Collins poem - advice to writers from his collection - taking off emily dickinson's clothes). As I am such a filthy slut I didn't leave myself much room for writing! Every time I wrote I felt guilt, guilt guilt about what I hadn't done for my family. But I wrote anyway.
Which leads to number two- that's not real poetry. My brother said this to me when I showed him Billy Collins collection Nine Horses. Why he feels competent to judge what is or isn't poetry I am not sure. But it summed up how I felt when I tentatively showed my work to others. When I started writing I felt my poetry was not literary enough, incomprehensible enough, I wanted to write poems about my daughter being called ginger minge and about the randomness in my head, to make people think and laugh and it was only through the help of ww that I started to realise that this was actually ok. Then Wildie Alison persuaded me to go and see Billy Collins at Grasmere and the penny suddenly dropped. He was doing what I was trying to do and he was famous for it. Hurrah!
Number three was the attitude - oh you're in a women's group therefore your poems will be crap sonnets about cats or menstruation or it's a nice hobby isn't it and various other snide remarks.
Number four - Are you doing the MA? I lost count of the number of times people asked me this -I don't have an MA in poetry and I don't want one!! (shock horror).
In other words nobody cares about poetry anyway and it is only any good if it has some kind of seal of approval like being dead or published by Faber or being a Professor of it.
5 = The Proper Job virus!! I have always worked in some way, even when my daughter was young I did market research part time, but when I decided to write full time - (eventually after wrestling with all the other harpics) I still felt I wasn't putting my fair share into the family coffers and every time my creativity wavered I would scour the papers for biscuit counting jobs.
Now for how I beat the harpics!...
I still haven't fully beaten them of course- Even though my novel manuscripts are being favourably received by Farrar Straus and Giroux (but not published- YET) I still look in the Whitehaven News for biscuit counting jobs.
The secret of course is this - those harpics aren't real. Those harpics are inside your own head. The more you value the power of your own creativity the more other people do. Basically it comes down to self belief and bloody mindedness. I just kept doing it. I just kept writing and believing in myself and getting on with it, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. Some days it was a terrific struggle. Right now it is really hard because I have had favourable reception of my novels but no one wants to publish - YET. I have optimism, I have hope, I have good supportive friends who understand the creative process. I count myself very lucky that I have so many good friends from Wild Women that I can call or e mail when things are getting me down.
I am still not a 'famous' writer...But I have written two novels, 3 non fiction books, magazine and newspaper articles, 2 and two half poetry collections, done a year's performance course and performed at all these places since joining Wild Women Press:
Loose Muse, The Poetry Cafe, London
Glastonbury Festival Poetry & Words Stage
Verberate, Manchester
Stirling University Poetry & Sexuality Conference
Off the Shelf Literature Festival, Sheffield
Spotlight, Lancaster
Seahouses Shanty Festival, Seahouses
Malt Room, Brewery Arts Centre, Kendal
Words by the Water Literature Festival, Keswick
Matt & Phredd’s, Manchester Poetry Festival
Lancaster University
Tullie House Art Gallery, Carlisle
The Beacon Arts Centre, Whitehaven
The George Ballroom, Penrith
Wild Women Salons, Windermere
Bluebell Poetry Events, Penrith
Source Art Cafe, Carlisle
neo gallery Cockermouth
Regional BBC Radio
thecommonpeople.blip.tv
kill the fucking harpics!
your work isn't good enough/ right/ is too small/ is insignificant/ is easy/ is of no value... you can't draw/ sing/ paint/ write... your not a real writer/ artist/ musician... you never finish anything/ are unoriginal/ uninteresting... who wants to listen to you/ what makes you think you have something worth saying... everyone will laugh at you/ that's stupid/ you're boring... it isn't real work, is it?
And the woman, weakened and harassed by these harpies, comes up with her defences, polluting the river over again...
I can't do it... I haven't got enough time/ money/ space/ experience/ training/ equipment... I'll do it when the children grow up/ when I can afford to/ when I retire/when I have a studio/when I finish this course ... I need to look after my partner/ child/ parents/ dog/ cat/ house/ neighbours...
Yikes! The list is endless, believe me...and once we give up our river, our life force, because of some distorted idea of over-responsibility or respectability, the harpies come in and steal our dreams. And that applies to men and women alike! So the first lesson, that is learnt over and over and over...
Life is not meant to be lived in stolen moments
There is no such thing as your spare time
Life is not to be controlled by should and must
No matter how demanding your life is - and it can be very demanding - your own creative, deep life is not meant to be a secondary option. Without it, you will dry up and fizzle out. It is vital that the necessity of nourishing your soul-life is recognised by yourself and those around you. And if they can't...then you have some difficult questions to ask. Without a doubt, if you do not do this, your spirit will slowly suffocate and you will wake up one day and wonder who it is that is living in your life. And if you still don't listen then pretty soon, you will wake up to a tidal wave of destructive sludge heading your way.
It isn't easy, I won't pretend it is. But it is possible. Have courage! Let's shoot those harpies and clear that river!
SHOOTING THE HARPIES
The following exercise can be done alone, or in pairs. Take a piece of paper and write on the left side HARPIES and on the right side, WILD WOMAN. On the left, write the statements that block or hinder or attack your creativity, that undermine your soul-full life. On the right, write down strong, positive, powerful affirmations that nourish your creative life force. For example, here is one from my own list:
HARPIES
Why would anyone be interested in reading what I have to say?
WILD WOMAN
What you have to say is a unique expression of your being in this world and because of that, it is valuable. When you share your heart, you help connect the world in love.
When we did this as a group, we worked in pairs, so we did it slightly differently. Each person wrote down and shared their own particular harpies, whilst their partner responded with the Wild Woman counter-balance - making sure that they did not use a should or must in their reply. It is amazing how daft our own harpies sound when we say them allowed to another - and how simple the counter-answer sounds in our ears when spoken by someone else! We then shared them as a group, along with much laughter and also tears, because it hurts to admit how much we hurt ourselves. In sharing that vulnerability though, something special happened in the group. From that point on, we knew the voices in each other's heads and we could help each other, wounded as we might be, limp onward!
Of course, it isn't as easy as just saying them out loud. You then have to work on them, listening deeply so you can catch them when they start to attack. But having the counter-attack helps swipe them away until they become simply an irritating fly buzzing around - easily dismissed and swotted away. Stick your list up somewhere you can see it and use it as ammunition when you need it. Or, as we began to call it - get the HARPIC out...you can see which particular harpy this comes from by reading on. Thanks to Gill and Ruth, for agreeing to share their original harpies and their quest to rid them!
RUTH
My original harpies were:
Darkness of emptiness, grief, pain at life's bitterness -
bloody hell, get the violins out! Well I've definitely slain that one.
Work? What work do you do? (genuine quote from a bitchy neighbour!) - I'm not a proper writer -
definitely slain that one with a silver bullet and laid it in the grave!
Rushed, always rushing - put out the bins, wash up, make the beds, do the shopping, tidy up, sort out washing etc etc - the life of a busy single mum of three -
well definitely cracked that one too - I've got a house husband now!
`Talk talk talk' always on the phone.
Mmmm - not exactly cracked that one, but actually it's been transformed now - I don't see it as a harpy any more, more socialising (necessary for sanity of isolated writers) and networking.
So I've got rid of all of them. The only one that really attacks me now is the
`nobody wants to publish my work' harpy.
The bastard!!!! I'd better kill that one off too...
GILL
HARPICS…that was what I used to call them- mainly because mine were about not being a good enough house-wifey and mummy at the time Wild Women started. There was no way I could write anything until I had scoured my house from top to bottom and swabbed every birds nest in the woods(- a la Billy Collins poem - advice to writers from his collection - taking off emily dickinson's clothes). As I am such a filthy slut I didn't leave myself much room for writing! Every time I wrote I felt guilt, guilt guilt about what I hadn't done for my family. But I wrote anyway.
Which leads to number two- that's not real poetry. My brother said this to me when I showed him Billy Collins collection Nine Horses. Why he feels competent to judge what is or isn't poetry I am not sure. But it summed up how I felt when I tentatively showed my work to others. When I started writing I felt my poetry was not literary enough, incomprehensible enough, I wanted to write poems about my daughter being called ginger minge and about the randomness in my head, to make people think and laugh and it was only through the help of ww that I started to realise that this was actually ok. Then Wildie Alison persuaded me to go and see Billy Collins at Grasmere and the penny suddenly dropped. He was doing what I was trying to do and he was famous for it. Hurrah!
Number three was the attitude - oh you're in a women's group therefore your poems will be crap sonnets about cats or menstruation or it's a nice hobby isn't it and various other snide remarks.
Number four - Are you doing the MA? I lost count of the number of times people asked me this -I don't have an MA in poetry and I don't want one!! (shock horror).
In other words nobody cares about poetry anyway and it is only any good if it has some kind of seal of approval like being dead or published by Faber or being a Professor of it.
5 = The Proper Job virus!! I have always worked in some way, even when my daughter was young I did market research part time, but when I decided to write full time - (eventually after wrestling with all the other harpics) I still felt I wasn't putting my fair share into the family coffers and every time my creativity wavered I would scour the papers for biscuit counting jobs.
Now for how I beat the harpics!...
I still haven't fully beaten them of course- Even though my novel manuscripts are being favourably received by Farrar Straus and Giroux (but not published- YET) I still look in the Whitehaven News for biscuit counting jobs.
The secret of course is this - those harpics aren't real. Those harpics are inside your own head. The more you value the power of your own creativity the more other people do. Basically it comes down to self belief and bloody mindedness. I just kept doing it. I just kept writing and believing in myself and getting on with it, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. Some days it was a terrific struggle. Right now it is really hard because I have had favourable reception of my novels but no one wants to publish - YET. I have optimism, I have hope, I have good supportive friends who understand the creative process. I count myself very lucky that I have so many good friends from Wild Women that I can call or e mail when things are getting me down.
I am still not a 'famous' writer...But I have written two novels, 3 non fiction books, magazine and newspaper articles, 2 and two half poetry collections, done a year's performance course and performed at all these places since joining Wild Women Press:
Loose Muse, The Poetry Cafe, London
Glastonbury Festival Poetry & Words Stage
Verberate, Manchester
Stirling University Poetry & Sexuality Conference
Off the Shelf Literature Festival, Sheffield
Spotlight, Lancaster
Seahouses Shanty Festival, Seahouses
Malt Room, Brewery Arts Centre, Kendal
Words by the Water Literature Festival, Keswick
Matt & Phredd’s, Manchester Poetry Festival
Lancaster University
Tullie House Art Gallery, Carlisle
The Beacon Arts Centre, Whitehaven
The George Ballroom, Penrith
Wild Women Salons, Windermere
Bluebell Poetry Events, Penrith
Source Art Cafe, Carlisle
neo gallery Cockermouth
Regional BBC Radio
thecommonpeople.blip.tv
kill the fucking harpics!
3 comments:
oh and I forgot to add- been a good wife and mother, a good daughter and daughter in law, a good friend, supported the dying, bereaved and unborn, supported my daughter through education, taught her to drive, left my husband, went back to him, distracted myself with love affair, been in and out of hospital with gall stones, worked in the sheep shagging centre, been secretary of a women's group, helped to set up and run a women's small press, made art, learned web design and set up a website, learned to play drums, and lots of other things I've probably forgotten- all since wild women began!! Phew- no wonder I feel a bit tired sometimes!
oh my god.. is that what they are called? Harpies.. I have them too...
I think this blog is going to help me in many ways.. thanks!
so.. any chance of you moving down under to start a Wild Women group??? gorgeous place to live... fresh air, no crowds....
oh and my biggest harpie is spending too much damn time on the computer, reading about it all and writing about doing it... how to do this, how to do that..instead of doing it.... see, here I am :)
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