Taking Risks: A Love Letter to Amanda Fucking Palmer
Recently a friend of mine has gone back to school, the daughter of another is happily enrolled in new classes and yet another friend is very seriously pursuing attending college for the upcoming winter semester. All this questing for new knowledge has left me feeling like I’m missing out, nostalgic for the classroom, which is funny because the first time through, I couldn’t wait to be done, outta there and living real life. Well that longing has landed me right in the middle of a trite — but nevertheless important — realization: I AM in school. Right now. The school of life. And I feel like I’ve been flunking this past year.
You see, I’ve been so wrapped up in being stuck on what I’m NOT accomplishing that I’ve been missing all the great stuff I HAVE been accomplishing.
I’ve always been a HUGE fan of Neil Gaiman. Reading his blog has been a comforting ritual I’ve done for a few years now — if I can’t BE accomplishing, then I’m at least going to live vicariously through someone I admire, doing what I wish I was doing. I love his imagination, his outlook on life, his calm, intelligent sense of self and the world around him and his lamppost. I was however a little taken aback when he married Amanda Palmer. It seemed like such a bizarre match for him, even taking into account that opposites attract. I found myself wondering what he was doing marrying a woman 16 years his junior. I found myself wondering if my fave author was going through the classic mid-life crisis. I found myself wondering why it mattered to me. I mean, I’ve always like older guys — you think I’d see this as ridiculous to be preoccupied over. You see, I’ve been stuck in my head a lot and this is just a fraction of the Camptown Races swirling around in my very noisy mind every day.
Lately I’ve been doing EVERYTHING I can to keep myself distracted from making my art. It terrifies me.
In being distracted though, I’ve been learning new things. One of those things has been getting to know the public side of Neil Gaiman’s wife, Amanda Palmer. It began over a year ago reading about her in his various blog posts and eventually I was drawn to reading her own blog. The woman is wild. She is honest — sometimes brutally so. Yet she is kind. Beautiful. Courageous. And she wears her heart on her sleeve. All these things endear me to her and cause me to have such a profound respect for her. And in bravely creating her art in a way few have had the vagina to — and I say this lovingly, referring to what Betty White said about growing a vagina instead of balls because balls are delicate and a vagina can really take a pounding — Amanda is making it work. Really making it work!
And because she is putting herself out there and because she is making it work, she has been attacked over so many things, from the success of her kickstarter campaign, to the request of local musicians to play her concerts for free. More importantly though, she is attracting all these new fans who suddenly adore what she is doing, the risks she is taking and the beautiful art that she is making. New fans like me.
And I find myself wanting to be that brave, wanting to take those big risks, the ones that make you question your sanity every step along the way and the very questions you cannot take the time to answer, because to do so would stop you dead in your tracks. For the rest of your life. You just have to keep flying toward the sun ignoring that your wings are disintegrating because the flight itself is just so fucking beautiful.
I feel like I understand so much now. And yet so very little. I do feel like I have a glimpse into why my favourite author is entranced by this powerful woman. My hungry imagination feels fed, it can’t get enough. My fears are still booming around me, more terrifying than ever before, but I feel compelled to act on them rather than hide from them. I have discovered this quiet little place in my mind where the fear thunders around me, but I am at peace.
So what in the world does this have to do with storytelling?! EVERYTHING!!
Take risks and write. Every day. Take risks and show your writing to other people. Take risks in your writing, with your plot, with your characters — make your characters take risks! Just put yourself out there and make good art.
I ❤ you Amanda Fucking Palmer.
Endurance
I was originally going to call this post Stamina. Once again I have been plugging away at trying to meet all my deadlines, keep all my goals in sight and face down any setbacks with renewed energy and determination, rather than give in to the frustrating defeat that seems to stalk me.
Each time I prepare a new post I start with the title. Once I have an idea of what I’d like to talk about I Google images that come to mind around my proposed theme. When I typed in my usual synonyms this came up for Endurance. It’s a fascinating and inspiring story of an aptly named ship and her courageous, unwaveringly optimistic captain. (Please ignore Dockers’ clap-trap marketing spin on the whole “The Art of Manliness” because the story is well told regardless).
Leadership aside for the moment (we’ll delve into that in another post), how do you face down an endless stream of defeating challenges and still find the resilience to not only continue on, but buoy your spirits enough to pick yourself back up and push forward with renewed hope and optimism? It’s a talent for sure. Remember my fave quote from an earlier post: “Even if you fall on your face, you’re still moving forward.” Thing is, falling on your face hurts. A lot. And ever since we were kids, we’ve learned not to do things that hurt.
So training ourselves to take these risks and do it again after we fail anyways, ends up feeling a little masochistic. When I was a kid, one of the activities my Mom signed my sister and I up for was figure skating. I loved the spins and fancy turns, the choreography and the year-end pageants (I know, big surprise there — LOL!). But when it came time to do any jumping I was terrified. I had a very clear image in my mind of falling on my head and it cracking open like an egg. Even after this very thing happened to my cousin and all she suffered was a mild concussion with the requisite dizziness, vomiting and over night hospital stay — proving that our heads are a might stronger than fragile eggs — I still couldn’t summon the bravery to risk it. So ended that possible career choice. Just as well, I guess.
Yet, strangely enough, I seem to conjure up the courage to toss myself on my head again and again and again, when it comes to taking chances with my creativity. Why is that?
Perhaps the secret here is finding the tipping balance where passion outweighs any lingering fear (or common sense). I believe we enjoy being challenged. Sure the failures are hard to take, but my god, the pay-off when you are successful is a pretty damn sweet feeling. This reward is what keeps us going, drives us forward toward our goals.
It’s what motivates our characters too. Come back Friday, and I’ll take this train of thought to the next station and examine how testing the endurance of our characters makes for some great storytelling.
Jeff Harrison
Jeff Harrison 