Category: creative process

Show Up, Every Day

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In my last post I mentioned wanting to take time to write about what “rules” would work for me in life, referencing the chapter on Seth Godin in Tim Ferriss’ book Tools of Titans.

There are no real rules, so make rules that work for you. (241)

What do I mean by “rules”? I guess guidelines might be a better word. Or principles. Principles and guidelines to help me live more authentically, and decide each moment how I want to use the precious time allotted to me? In the words of Mary Oliver:

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

I want to create. And I want space for creativity. I love wide berths of space around obligations, to sit, walk, think, and let my mind wander.

I love how Thoreau puts it (quoted by Maria Popova in Tools of Titans):

The really efficient laborer will be found not to crowd his day with work, but will saunter to his task surrounded by a wide halo of ease and leisure. There will be a wide margin for relaxation to his day. He is only earnest to secure the kernels of time, and does not exaggerate the value of the husk.” (408)

With that in mind, here’s what I’ve learned:

If I do not think about how I want to fill my days, my days will be filled for me

In order to think about what I want, and how I want to spend my time, I need to make time for writing. Writing helps me organize and unblock thoughts that keep me from creativity. Think The Artist’s Way (Julia Cameron).

There is no excuse for not doing the things I want

There will always be limitations of time, money, attention, and resources. There are countless people, with fewer resources and privilege, and more limitations, who have done more than I ever will.

I want to view limitations more as creative constraints. Boundaries to work within, rather than walls to climb over.

Regarding time: I always have a choice in what I say “yes” and “no” to. To make space for creativity, I need to say “no” more.

Social media apps are designed to be addicting

Social media has been incredibly helpful for reaching people across the world with my music. However, it can be incredibly distracting.

It has also become less helpful over time for organic reach, because Meta, TikTok, and YouTube have changed their recommendation algorithms. Meta and TikTok particularly prioritize:

  1. Viral content (to get and keep your attention)
  2. Advertised and shop content (to get your money)

So what do I want my relationship with social media to be like?

I think, given the current landscape, unless I advertise or make more engaging content, I acknowledge that my online organic reach will only go so far. I’ve experimented with advertising, which has been incredibly helpful with new releases and selling vinyls. Sometimes I think, “Ideally I’ll figure out how to make more engaging content.” However, even as I write this I realize, it’s not primarily how I want to spend my time. Again, from Tools of Titans, Popova says:

When Kurt Vonnegut wrote ‘Write to please just one person,’ what he was really saying was write for yourself. Don’t try to please anyone but yourself…. The second you start doing it for an audience, you’ve lost the long game because creating something that is rewarding and sustainable over the long run requires, most of all, keeping yourself excited about it…. Trying to predict what [an audience will] be interested in and kind of pretzeling yourself to fit those expectations, you soon begin to begrudge it and become embittered—and it begins to show in the work. It always, always shows in the work when you resent it. And there’s really nothing less pleasurable to read than embittered writing. (410)

The same goes for music. Writing for others has always left me feeling empty. When I truly write for myself, for the joy of it, that is where the magic is.

Somehow I forget, again and again, that trying to fit myself into molds that corporate entities have defined for me, is the death knell for creativity.

So the answer is not “create more engaging content”. That is chasing an ever elusive goal, created by board room executives. Vanity metrics (views, likes, time watched, shares, etc.) are external pressures and constraints placed on us by corporations whose end-goal is solely the maximization of profits, not creative flourishing.

I am again reminded that the important thing is to do the work, day in, and day out. Show up, everyday, uncompromisingly. I already know what I am supposed to be doing. I just need to keep doing it, and stop trying to re-invent the wheel.

Measuring What Matters Most

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Some thoughts on attention

For the past few years we’ve been frequenting the Goodwill Outlet store near us. Or the “bins” as we affectionately call them. If you’ve never been, let me describe the scene.

You walk in and find yourself in a warehouse-like space. There are long, blue bins, the length of a compact car, holding mounds of unsold goods from regular Goodwill stores. Everything is sold by the pound, except books, which are by the piece. It basically works out to thrift store prices from the nineties, when books and clothing could still be bought for less than a dollar.

There are all variety of people there. Regular folks just looking for a good bargain on household necessities, but also obnoxious resellers who load up their carts, then take their dandy old time sorting through their haul in the corner, before putting most of it back.

I don’t mind the book resellers too much, since they are only scanning for high value books, and many times skip over the gems. This happened to me this past weekend. A squirrelly looking fellow with glasses, was scanning for books. He set aside what looked to be a brand-new copy of Tools of Titans by Tim Ferriss. A book you can find used for under $10 online, but which contains priceless wisdom.

As soon as he set it aside, I swooped in.

I first became familiar with Tim Ferriss via his podcast (The Tim Ferriss Show), then subsequently read 4-Hour Workweek. I still work a full-time job (lol), but it was very informative, and influenced the way I think about work, productivity, and my music business.

So when I saw Tools of Titans, I knew it would be worth its weight in gold. Or maybe I should say: I knew the wisdom it contained would be worth far more than the fifty cents.

Ferriss says in the beginning of the book that it’s intended to be more like a “buffet” and to “skip liberally” through the chapters. So when I opened the table of contents and saw Seth Godin’s name, I figured I’d start there. Because I remembered listening to a few interviews with him, and every time I do, I’ve always come away inspired to live more closely aligned with my ideals.

“I quantify almost nothing in my life” – Seth Godin

Ferriss goes on to write:

I sometimes fear I’ll lose my edge if I stop measuring everything. This line was freeing for me to hear… He inspired me to start “cycling off” of quantification…

I like to study what Seth doesn’t do as much as what he does. Seth has no comments on his blog, he doesn’t pay attention to analytics, and he doesn’t use Twitter or Facebook (except to rebroadcast his daily blog posts, which is automated). In a world of tool obsession and FOMO (fear of missing out) on the next social platform, Seth doesn’t appear to care. He simply focuses on putting out good and short daily posts, he ignores the rest, and he continues to thrive. There are no real rules, so make rules that work for you. (p. 241, Tools of Titans, Tim Ferriss)

When I read this, I was freshly reminded of my obsessive relationship with the data and stats around my music. It’s a weird thing, because, on the one hand, data is useful for informing business decisions. However, I can so quickly conflate relevant data and analysis (e.g. – a cadenced analysis of royalties, album purchases, advertising efficacy) with irrelevant stats (views, likes, followers, streams, reshares).

In other words: I get caught up in irrelevant data—i.e., data that doesn’t actually inform or help my creative inspiration and direction—to the point where I’m distracted from my true goal of creating.

I think a lot of the reason it’s hard to distinguish between the two, is because I don’t take enough time for reflection. I’ve noticed that the more space and time I give myself for writing, and undistracted thought, the more aware I am of the things I’m focussing on that are wastes of time, and don’t matter in the long run.

I’ll be taking some time this week to reflect more on this, and what “rules” work for me.

Creativity in the Age of A.I.

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Motivation to create comes and goes for me. Life—house, job, kids, hobbies, relationships—often gets in the way, and it’s easy to make excuses not to put the time into it.

Writing music has never been formulaic for me. Rarely does a piece come to me in its finished form. It takes effort. I overthink things a lot when composing and can get stuck in my own head. I can be my own worst enemy. Sometimes there are stretches—weeks, months, even years—when what I was once passionate about feels like a distant dream or a past life.

Other times, the desire to create hits so hard it’s impossible to focus on anything else. I barely remember to eat.

Creativity is cyclical and mysterious. It doesn’t follow a formula.

There’s also that lurking existential question: why create at all? What’s the point? Why try to make something new when it seems like everything’s already been done?

That question feels even heavier in the age of AI-generated art and music. “If AI can do it for me, why should I?” Every time the AI music generator Suno drops a new update, the internet asks, “Are we cooked?” Then someone plays a track they made with it—and it’s honestly pretty impressive, both lyrically and musically.

When Suno first started making waves, I played around with it and was thoroughly underwhelmed by what it made—at least for piano music. Six months later, I tried it again. Still garbage. There were definitely some cool tracks in other genres, but not for solo piano.

Will it get better? Probably. Maybe they’ve mostly trained their model on popular music instead of the kind of piano music I write. But if it does get better—am I cooked? What if AI could make piano music that sounded like mine? What if it were trained on my own songs?

As a software engineer, I’ve even thought about trying it myself—feeding my own music into an AI model on a GPU instance just to see what it would create. What would it sound like? And if it worked… what would I do then?

It raises an interesting question: would I keep creating if AI could do it for me?

For me, the answer is a definite yes. I’d still create. Because creating isn’t optional when you have that drive. Sometimes it goes quiet, but it never dies. The spark is always there.

I honestly don’t think AI will ever create as brilliantly or unpredictably as humans. What makes human art interesting is its surprise, its imperfection, its risk. AI is trained on what already exists—and I haven’t yet seen it come up with something truly new in the world of art.

More importantly, music is about connection. People go to concerts to feel something with other people—to see their favorite artist, to share a moment. There’s something intangible in music that flows through us and connects us. Just like handmade goods mean more than something mass-produced, people want to support people.

That doesn’t mean there’s no place for AI in music. It’s here to stay. But it takes a thoughtful approach. I use AI plugins to help with EQ or leveling when I mix—but they’re just tools. I still need to understand EQ, compression, gain staging, and so on. I’m not against using AI to save time or money—sometimes it’s just practical. Not everyone can afford to hire an attorney, for example, but AI can be a huge help with legal research or document review.

When it comes to logic and reasoning, AI is already incredible. But when it comes to creativity, there’s an ingredient it can’t learn: the human soul. Consciousness. That spark we call by many names—God, love, the divine, whatever you want to call it. It’s intangible, but it’s real.

And that’s why I don’t think artists have anything to fear. What you create is beautiful because it comes from you—your experiences, your life, your perspective. There is, and always will be, only one you. And that can’t be replicated.

* Artwork created by AI (Midjourney)

Reclaiming My Attention

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I’ve been wanting to get back into the habit of writing every day for a while now. Occasionally, I’ll hear of someone who does this practice, and I always think, Yes, I want to start doing that again. They always talk about how beneficial it is. How it clears their mind-clutter. And I’m amazed they’ve been able to keep it up for so long.

Julia Cameron writes about this in The Artist’s Way, which I’ve started several times (but never finished). In the beginning of the book, she says the most important practice any artist can do is “Morning Pages”—writing every day as a way to clear mental clutter. I’ve benefited from this, but inevitably the practice gets stripped away by the stress of life.

I’ve mostly written in private rather than publicly. On a blog, for example. Which makes sense, I think. Who really wants to read the stream-of-consciousness, overworked, anxious thoughts of a self-reflecting artist working through their creative blocks?

There’s an interesting difference between sharing things publicly versus privately. I’ve felt this most tangibly in composing music. When I write music in private, things come together much more slowly. There’s less pressure to form a cohesive musical thought. But when I force myself to share musical ideas publicly with little snippets online, the ideas come together faster, because I don’t have the luxury of overthinking. I have to trust my gut.

I used to do this more often. Sharing publicly felt therapeutic, like it helped me process and work through things. But there was always the risk of being misunderstood. I didn’t like that. Eventually, it felt safer to keep everything to myself.

Honestly, it’s been extremely hard to start again. My brain is conditioned (thank you, phone?) to avoid expressing thoughts in long form. With writing words (and music) you’re forced to be present. Writing music is almost easier, in a way, because there are no words. There’s less to judge. But words… words mean something. When you share them, people can judge them, misunderstand them, twist them. It’s inevitable.

I’ve been out of the habit for so long that I’ve turned starting again into a mountain that feels impossible to climb. But I also know that when you’re facing something that feels insurmountable, there’s only one thing to do: put one foot in front of the other. In this case, one word after the other.

Life has been pretty hectic lately. We just got a 12 (now 13) week old puppy. This week has been a blur. We also just moved my fiancé’s business from the West Coast to the East Coast. There’s so much happening. Having a full-time job, raising kids, taking care of pets, managing my music career, helping my fiancé launch her business, taking care of our home… there is just. So. Much. How do people do it?

Our Google Calendar looks like a Jackson Pollock painting.

I’ve been feeling so scatterbrained that I somehow left my precious copy of The Count of Monte Cristo out in the rain. I love books. I love to read. And if I’m at the point where I’m leaving books outside in a downpour, something is off.

I know I’m the creator of my own chaos in a lot of ways. I take on too much. But it’s also a beautiful and full life.

I’m in the middle of working on new music, too. There’s this piece in D♭ major that has been so elusive to finish. I think it’s the same problem. Being unable to focus long enough. Afraid to sit with it. I don’t know.

I’ve been meditating regularly. A fifty-five days “streak” I think. That has helped a lot. I’m still overwhelmed. Still have a lot to deal with. But I think I’m calmer.

I guess this is my small effort to reclaim my attention. Our phones and technology are relentless. It’s tempting to give myself over to the stress of it all. Lately, in meditation, I’ve been focusing on what I do want. How I want to feel. What I want my life to look like. Because where attention goes, energy flows. I’ve given myself over to worry and stress for too many years.

So we’ll see what comes of this. I hope this is the first post of many. I’m doing it for myself. To clear my headspace. But also for others, if somehow it helps. Time to stop before I start overthinking it again.

The Danger of ‘Not Now’: Taking Action Towards Your Goals

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Every year when Graham Weaver teaches at Stanford, on the final day of class he shares the four most important lessons he’s learned in life. I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately. I’ve taken some liberties with the wording for clarity, but this is mostly verbatim from his TikTok video.

Give yourself the gift of doing something you’re truly excited about in this one precious life.
I can’t express how differently you’ll show up when you’re doing something that lights you up. You’ll have more energy. You’ll attract the right people. You’ll have more fun. And you’ll be far more likely to stick with it for the long haul. That path—chasing your real dream—is what your life should be about. That’s the journey you’re meant to be on.

Don’t underestimate yourself.
Think back to a time when you were at your absolute best. That’s the real you. You have those gifts. And you get to bring them with you into the next chapter of your life. Remember, you being excited about something for a long time is the most powerful force there is.

Beware of the two most dangerous words: “Not now.”
People don’t usually give up on their dreams—they delay them. “First I’ve got to get more experience… pay off some loans… get this bonus… get married… pay off the mortgage.” Eventually, “Not now” delayed too long becomes “Not ever.” So keep this in mind: it will never feel like the right time. It will always feel too early. You’ll always feel not quite ready. And it will always be easier to repeat today what you did yesterday. So ask yourself: “Ten years from now, what will I wish I had started today?” And start that journey.

Realize life is an internal battle, not an external one.
On one side is fear, doubt, self-judgment, and societal pressure telling you what you should do, who you should be, and what your life should look like. On the other side is your truth—your soul, your heart—telling you what it really wants. That’s the side you want to win. I used to think life was full of a million complicated decisions. But the longer I live, the more I realize there’s really only one: Will you give yourself permission to be who you really want to be and live the life you truly want to live?

As a software engineer, it’s been hard to ignore the recent wave of tech layoffs. It’s made me reflect more than usual on my future—and what I’d do if I lost my job.

Part of me thinks I’d just look for another one. But I’ve been working full-time since I graduated college, and the one thing I’ve learned is that I’m not pursuing my calling. Some jobs have been better than others, but the fact remains: I’m not passionate about this career path.

I have dreams like everyone else, but I often lose sight of them. Life gets busy. Self-doubt creeps in. I get discouraged. There’s never enough time. I get distracted. Sometimes I even question whether my dreams are too big—or if I’m worthy of them.

“Why should I get to do what I love when so many others are suffering, or don’t even have a choice because of their circumstances?”

But no matter how far away my dreams seem—no matter how many excuses I make—I can’t let them go. Letting them go would feel like a kind of death.

I hear people talk about the power of visualization and the science behind it. I’ve heard enough stories to believe that when people start living as if their dreams are already reality, they begin to experience that reality. Doors open. They no longer have to force outcomes because they’re aligned with the right “frequency” to draw in what they want.

It can sound like spiritual woo-woo—but I’ve actually experienced this for myself… when I can manage to get out of my own way.

There’s solid science backing this up: our thoughts shape our experiences. If you change your mindset, your reality starts to change.

I no longer need convincing. I know visualization works. I know we often see what we actually believe to be true about our life.

But I still struggle to practice it consistently. I lose heart easily. I meditate in the morning to get my head in the right space, but ten minutes go by and one small challenge sends me back into a scarcity mindset. I continue to see myself as stuck—so I stay stuck. It becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. I believe these things about myself because they’re all I choose to see.

I struggle to visualize the life I want because it feels too improbable.

I’m afraid to show up fully. Afraid to express myself honestly. I spend too much energy trying to keep the peace, stay small, and avoid disappointing others.

Showing up fully means being vulnerable. Maybe I’ve been burned too many times and lost courage.

Showing up fully means letting myself get excited about my dreams. Maybe I’ve been disappointed too often, and it hurts too much.

It’s easier to play it safe.
Easier to do what’s normal.
Pursue security.
Work for someone else until retirement.

I’m afraid to take up space. I worry my dreams aren’t worthy of people’s time or attention.

But where has all that fear gotten me? I’m forty years old, and I’m still living under the same limiting beliefs I’ve always had. Despite all the striving, nothing has really changed.

If it’s true that we see what we believe, then I must believe I’m only allowed to take up some space—not enough to do this full-time.

To put numbers to it: I earn about $1,500/month in music streaming royalties. I have tens of thousands of monthly listeners. I’ve played a handful of shows. I’ve sold a couple hundred records.

That’s more than most musicians can say. I’ve worked hard to get here. And considering the state of the music industry, I’ve done well.

So I feel guilty saying: I want more.

Not just more money. I know money doesn’t equal happiness.

I want to expand more.
I want to take up more space in the world through my creativity.

Because there’s this pull I’ve never been able to shake.
This energy inside me that takes up so much space, it’s hard to contain.
It’s like a car that’s constantly being filled with gas, and if I don’t drive 100mph, it overflows, catches fire, and burns away. I can either cut off the fuel and live a dull, stagnant life, or I can press the pedal as hard as I want, when I want.

My mind is constantly buzzing with ideas.
I want more people to hear my music.
I want to play more shows for more people.

I want to give myself the gift of doing something I’m genuinely excited about—because I know that when I’m doing what I love, I show up differently. I light up. I have more energy. There is no question about that.

If I lost my job, I’d be at a fork in the road. I’d have to choose: keep doing the same thing and getting the same results—or go full throttle toward my dreams.

Jim Carrey once said:

“My father could have been a great comedian, but he didn’t believe that was possible for him. So he made a conservative choice. Instead, he got a safe job as an accountant. When I was twelve, he was let go from that safe job, and our family had to do whatever we could to survive. I learned many great lessons from my father—not the least of which was that you can fail at what you don’t want, so you might as well take a chance on doing what you love.”

Given my current situation, I don’t think quitting my job is wise. But I do know there’s so much more I could be doing, right now, to pursue my dreams.

What are those dreams?

I want the freedom to follow my creative impulses every day.
Primarily, that means composing new music and performing in small, intimate venues around the world. But it also includes things like community, exercise, reading and writing, gardening, photography, videography, and sound engineering. Whatever captures my attention. Pursuing inspiration all around me.

So why am I writing this?

To give myself a reset. To take stock of where I’m at, and re-establish where I want to go.

Starting today, I’m choosing two things:

  1. Believe—unequivocally—in my dreams, regardless of what happens in my life or what anyone says.
  2. Do one small thing every day to work toward those dreams, without worrying how quickly I get there.
  3. Share this journey with others.

Because I’ve lived long enough to know: the grass isn’t always greener.
It’s not about reaching some perfect future goal that will make me permanently happy.

It’s about being alive on the journey.
That’s what I want for myself.

All Art Is a Work in Progress

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I’ve been reading Rick Rubin’s book, The Creative Act: A Way of Being. In his chapters on self-doubt, he writes about the ways we self-sabotage as an artist.

Flaws are human, and the attraction of art is the humanity held in it… With life comes pain, insecurity, and fear.

We’re all different and we’re all imperfect, and the imperfections are what makes each of us and our work interesting. We create pieces reflective of who we are, and if insecurity is part of who we are, then our work will have a greater degree of truth in it as a result. (73)

Self-doubt and insecurity are things I struggle with as an artist. It’s much easier to see the worth of others’ creations than our own. When we look at something we’ve made, along with it we see all its imperfections, and the struggle that got us there. It’s tainted.

To Rubin, though, our imperfections and insecurities lend authenticity and truth to our creations. Ironically, they make our creations better. As artists, we are challenged to see them as strengths, instead.

The people who choose to do art are, many times, the most vulnerable…

The sensitivity that allows them to make the art is the same vulnerability that makes them more tender to being judged. Still, many continue to share their work and risk criticism in spite of this. It’s as if they have no other choice. Being an artist is who the are, and they are made whole through self-expression…

Adversity is part of the process. (74)

I feel that phrase intensely: “Made whole through self-expression.” It’s why when we repress our creative impulses, we feel empty and stifled. And when we let them flow, we feel alive.

If you are struggling to take the first step in expressing yourself, or if you feel stuck, Rubin has some helpful thoughts on this.

How do we move forward, considering the stories we tell ourselves?

One of the best strategies is to lower the stakes.

We tend to think that what we’re making is the most important thing in our lives and that it’s going to define us for all eternity. Consider moving forward with the more accurate point of view that it’s a small work, a beginning. The mission is to complete the project so you can move on to the next. That next one is a stepping-stone to the following work. And so it continues in productive rhythm for the entirety of your creative life.

All art is a work in progress. It’s helpful to see the piece we’re working on as an experiment. One in which we can’t predict the outcome. Whatever the result, we will receive useful information that will benefit the next experiment.

If you start from the position that there is no right or wrong, no good or bad, and creativity is just free play with no rules, it’s easier to submerge yourself joyfully in the process of making things.

We’re not playing to win, we’re playing to play. And ultimately, playing is fun. (77-78)

I’ve found this to be true. Those times when I am too much of a perfectionist, my creativity suffers. It puts far too much weight and pressure on one single piece. However, when I compose more freely, more playfully, I find that each phrase, each melody, each chord progression is teaching me something new. Every piece is a stepping stone.

I learn more through this “free play” — improvisation — than through slogging away over the perfect placement of notes and harmonies.

So as artists, let’s not let our imperfections and insecurities hold us back. Instead, choose to see them as “a guiding force in our creativity”.

Polarity – The Power of Thought in Everyday Life

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I’ve been thinking a lot about the following quote:  

Each thought has a negative and positive polarity, just like electricity. If you have the negative pole, on the other side a positive pole is created. It is automatic… 

If you can remain in the right state – that is, undistracted, silent, just a witness to everything, to whatsoever is happening, with no idea arising in you – then no idea will arise in others around you… Think and you will see: if you think of enemies you will create them, if you think of friends they will appear. If you love, love appears all around you; if you hate, hate appears. 

Whatsoever you go on thinking is being fulfilled by a certain law. If you don’t think anything, then nothing happens to you…

…if you want to “do” you will live in the ego… If you drop the ego, if you drop the idea of being a doer and you simply relax into life and are in a let-go… Then things happen.”

—OSHO, Ancient Music in the Pines

I’ve always struggled to believe how powerful thought is in everyday life. So many people talk about how “you attract what you fear”, or the “power of positive thinking”, or “creating your own reality”, that it can be quite confusing to sort through what is genuine. I’ve seen far too many people “create” their way  into self-deception. 

The way Osho puts it is the simplest and most straightforward version of this idea I’ve read. The idea that my thoughts create polarity is very compelling. It doesn’t take a lot of life experience to tell me that when I’m always negative, all I see is negativity. When I complain, all I see are things to complain about. When I regularly express gratitude, I’m happier and more content. 

I think that’s what I’m ultimately attempting with these daily “sketches”. These last six days I’ve been happier. Because instead of complaining about work that brings me little joy, I’m choosing to do something I enjoy. While the caption of these daily posts on social media is “Day __ of composing everyday until I can quit corporate America and create full-time,” honestly, that’s not the end goal. I would love it if that became possible. But I’m enjoying myself so much, it doesn’t really matter.

Photo credit: Me. I saw these billowy clouds outside my front door the other day and thought it was captivating!

on balancing creative inspiration with our desire for technical perfection

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One thing that held me back for years from writing my own music was a fear of failure. “What if it’s not good enough? What if no one likes it?” This fear led to an obsession with perfection. I thought I had to create something perfect (whatever that meant) for it to be appreciated. I needed to compose it perfectly. Capture it perfectly. Mix and master it perfectly. There could be no flaws.

(Even as I write and edit this, I feel the tension between wanting to just get out my thoughts, and looking back trying to make sure it’s expressed perfectly, most accessibly, etc. Perhaps I’ll rewrite these ideas later on and reframe them in a way that’s more accessible. It’s hard to know if this will resonate. After spending two hours writing, I even thought of scrapping it altogether. The struggle is real! I thought the same about “slow waltz” before it was released. “Should I bother? Is it any good?” Only to hear from others how much it’s meant to them. You can never know ahead of time what will and will not resonate.)

An obsession with perfection, as you may have experienced, can be counterproductive and hold us back. Does our perfectionistic tendency have a place in the creative process, though? I think so.

where does creative inspiration come from?

Think about a time you felt inspired to create. We’re you out walking in nature? Did you feel a gentle breeze kiss your skin? The warm embrace of the sun? Did you witness a powerful storm, standing on the coastline? Maybe you listened to a beautiful piece of music, or read a poem that lit something up inside you. Maybe it was a divine meal shared with a loved one.

Whatever it was, it probably involved the senses. Something deep inside was stirred after you touched, tasted, listened, smelled, looked, felt. It was a spontaneous reaction. “I want to create this feeling in the world.”

In nature, life moves and breathes spontaneously, in reaction to forces around and within. A hurricane is simply a force responding to other forces around it. Flowers grow as their seeds are acted upon by soil, sun and water. Lions hunt as their stomachs lead them.

I think of the creative impulse in the same way. It drives us forward to make something because we’ve been acted upon by other forces, within and without.

creativity requires work & effort

If it were that simple, though—if it were just a matter of inspiration—we’d all be effortlessly creating beautiful works of art. The reality is, creating does not come effortlessly. It requires work.

There are things to learn and techniques to master. It’s rare for something to come so easily to someone. (Prodigies are far and few between.) This can be the trap of YouTube and social media. We find inspiration there. But we also see the finished products. We see those who are excelling, far beyond what we could imagine for ourselves.

What we don’t see, though, is how long it took them to get there. How much work they had to put into honing their craft.

This should never stop us from creating, though.

For example, one of the reasons I burned out so hard in college is because I compared myself to others in the conservatory who were better. They had better technique. They were better at performing because they didn’t get as nervous. They had better ears and musical recall, and some even had perfect pitch. They could play Chopin Etudes in a way I could only dream of. I didn’t feel like I could keep up.

What I didn’t embrace at the time, of course, was that we’re all different. We all have different strengths.

My desire for virtuosity and perfection had mixed motivations. Yes, I wanted people to be impressed by how fast and technically accurate I could play. Yet deeper down I wanted virtuosity to serve the music.

After that burnout, it took me a long, long time to recalibrate and return to the piano.

balancing our desire for technical perfection with creative inspiration

So how do we balance this desire for perfection with creative inspiration? Why do we want perfection in the first place? Many times there’s vanity tied up in it. (There certainly can be for me.) But I think we also desire perfection because we want the music to come through, unhindered. We don’t want wrong notes, a botched performance or a poor recording to get in the way of someone’s listening experience.

We want technical perfection to serve the delivery of the music. This is a good desire.

It’s good to learn proper technique, so we don’t injure ourselves. Good technique helps set free the creative energy flowing through our body and instrument. It allows us to be a conduit for the music.

In recording, for example, it’s good to understand the different kinds of microphones, and why we set them up in a particular way. To understand how to avoid phase issues. It’s helpful to understand the basics of EQ, compression, limiting, and bussing, etc.

If you’re an artist, it helps to understand anatomy.

If you want to keep your car in good condition, it helps to understand why tire pressure, air intake and proper fluid levels are important.

Understanding your tools, and knowing how to use them is important, regardless of the craft.

keeping perfection at bay and letting our creativity flow

So how do we keep this perfectionistic tendency at bay, and let our creativity flow? I think it’s important to let ourselves live with the tension between perfection and creative inspiration.

If you want the ideas in your head to come through clearly, you have to learn technique.

But don’t wait until your technique is perfect.

In order to get better at your craft and the technique required to deliver it, you need to practice imperfectly.

You need to do it before you think you’re ready. If you want to create, but struggle to think of yourself as creative, you need to practice doing it in spite of your self-limiting beliefs. You need to compose before you think of yourself as a composer. You need to draw before you think you’re an artist.

(Note: I realize this can feel impossible at times. And that’s okay, too. Sometimes we need months or years to heal from some kind of hurt or trauma. Give yourself that time, and pursue healing, first. Creating just for yourself can be part of that healing process.)

At the same time, mindset is everything. Believing that we have something to offer can transform everything. Consistently believing you are an artist can propel you forward. Until one day you wake up and acknowledge, “I am an artist.”

what does it mean to be an “artist” or “composer”? do we ever “arrive”?

What does it mean to arrive at this point, though? Are you an artist or composer when someone pays you for your work? When you pass 10,000 followers on Instagram, or a million streams on Spotify? Of course not. Such measurements are shallow indicators you’ve arrived.

Instead, it’s an inner-knowing. You simply know and believe you are creating something beautiful and valuable in the world.

Does nature and the universe need people to acknowledge and praise its beauty for it to be beautiful? There are things no human eye will ever see—in the depths of the ocean, a remote mountain crevice, a hidden cave, and the farthest reaches of the universe—that are still immensely and incredibly beautiful.

What you make isn’t beautiful or valuable because others acknowledge it or pay you for it. It’s beautiful because it came from your soul.

I’m convinced that creating is an overflow of emotion. It could be sadness or joy, despair or happiness, or perhaps a complex combination of emotions. Either way, it needs to emerge from your soul.

Beauty doesn’t occur in a vacuum. It comes through the struggle.

Paraphrasing some Taoist wisdom:

If you want to create effortlessly
without learning technique,
you don’t understand what it means to be an artist.
You can’t have one without the other.

To give this more context, the original states:

If you want to have right without wrong
or order without disorder,
you don’t understand the Tao.
You can’t have one quality
and not have its opposite as well.
You can’t reach for the positive
and not create the negative
by the very act of your reaching.

From The Second Book of the Tao, Stephen Mitchell (No. 45)

Let it unfold. Let it take time. Create while learning your craft. Don’t wait until you can do it perfectly.

Photo credit: Jr Korpa on Unsplash

the courage to create

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Yesterday was an exciting day. My tune, slow waltz, was added to the Peaceful Piano playlist on Spotify, which at the time of writing has close to 6.5 million followers.

This is worth celebrating, of course! Though while I’m so grateful for more exposure, a “success” like this can come with many struggles. I only say this because I’ve been here before, and I hope my story can encourage you to keep creating, no matter the circumstances.

It was around December 2019. Colors had been released a few weeks prior. The first single to be released from Her Heart Is Open as the Sky. It was a surreal experience looking back on it. We were at a friend’s house, and she was listening to some piano music I knew well, though wouldn’t expect others to be familiar with. “How did you hear about this album?” I asked. “It’s just a playlist I saw you were on, from your profile.” A playlist? Me? I checked Spotify, and sure enough, there it was. Colors on the Magnificent Piano playlist.

I was shocked, stunned, excited, thrilled, affirmed, confused. How did one of my tracks get playlisted? I had no idea. I had submitted it for “editorial review” through the Spotify for Artists’ app, but figured there was a greater chance of being struck dead by a cow falling from the sky.

A few days later, there it was. Colors on Peaceful Piano. It simply blew me away.

What I didn’t expect was the self-induced agony that followed.

I soon came to realize that typically with one editorial playlist came many. (At least for others, based on my observations.) However, that wasn’t happening for me at the same rate. I also began to notice the playlist was updated every two weeks. (Now it’s weekly.) I think it’s fair to say I became obsessed with keeping Colors on the playlist. Though I had absolutely no idea how, and no control over it.

I became spellbound and obsessed with numbers. It felt hard to control. This compulsive desire to check my stats every day when they were updated. To make sure I hadn’t fallen out of grace with that one person (or many?) who made decisions about who is worthy to stay, and who gets canned.

It didn’t help that I was also suffering from imposter syndrome. I kept worrying maybe it had been a fluke. Did they really mean to add it? I’d wonder. Is it because Jane called out and Barry had to make the playlist adds that day and I got lucky? I’d listen to my track on the playlist, comparing it side-by-side with the others. Can it hold its ground amongst these giants?

It wasn’t just the numbers, though. People told me there was real money to be made from a playlist like this. I started researching how much of a payout I might get. And if I was even in the ballpark, it was significant enough to be helpful for our family. My heart swelled, looking forward to it.

After a few months, the first payout came, and I was ecstatic. Because if it continued, it would be a huge help for us.

Yet within days, Colors was removed from Peaceful Piano. Maybe they are just shuffling things around? I tried to reassure myself. My thoughts spiraled. It was almost like it had been planned. Like they wanted to dangle success (a/k/a money) in front of me, then burn it before my eyes.

I was a mess.

I’ve always been prone to self-doubt. And this was the pin to pop my little piano balloon. To me, it validated what I believed to be true about myself (at that time). That I wasn’t worthy to receive good things. That it’s dangerous to get one’s hopes up. That I shouldn’t dream big. That my music (or anything I make) isn’t worthy of people’s time and attention.

It’s interesting how expectations play a role in all this. When I released my first album (Opening), I was simply grateful to afford studio time and work with a great engineer. Those songs needed to come out. Otherwise I’d burst. And it felt so good to have a finished thing to share with friends and family.

There have been many experiences in my life where I’ve learned the hard way that money doesn’t satisfy. For example, I’ve taken jobs or promotions, just for the money. Then I was miserable because I hated what I was now doing.

That experience with Colors wasn’t much different. Once it became about money and numbers, I was a wreck.

In contrast, the times where I’ve chosen to do things in spite of money, have always been more gratifying. Where I’ve chosen to follow my heart, and act with integrity, rather than sell myself for money.

So what about now? It’s happened again. Will anything be different? Will I suffer the same fate?

In a way, I’m glad it hasn’t happened till now, because I don’t think I was ready. I had a lot of shit to work through in my head and heart. I needed to remind myself of why I create in the first place. I needed to remember: I do this because I have to. Music is a sort of life-blood for me. It’s like breathing. Without it, I merely function. With it, I’m vibrantly alive. It doesn’t matter who’s watching (or not), I must do it.

Additionally, there are some practical things I’ve done to prepare myself for whatever happened, “good” or “bad”. Editorial playlist or not. (Which I’d be happy to share more about another time.)

Part of the reason I share this is because I know I’m not alone. Like so many, I’ve created and bled my heart out for years with no one watching. With only a few people really believing in me.

After sharing about the playlist add, I posted this to my Instagram story. The response was overwhelming and heart-warming. It came from my heart, so rather than rewriting it, I’ll re-post it (edited for clarity):

For all of you who bleed their heart into the world and feel like there’s never a payoff, like no one is listening, you have to keep going. You do it because you have to. It’s like breathing.

And no amount of streams or follows will ever make you valuable. You are valuable because you have the courage to create and be yourself in this world.

What is most important as an artist is to be true to your craft. Make things you love. Make things to express your joy and sorrow. Share them if you want to. Like scattering seeds, letting them go to take root in people’s hearts, where and when they may. That takes time. We have no control over that.

I’ve been writing music since I was 13, though fear kept me from sharing it. In many ways, the music I wrote was awful. (It takes time to develop one’s craft.)

I tried to stifle my desire to compose for a long, long time.

You make because if you don’t, you might as well be dead. (At least, that’s what it feels like.)

If you connect with one soul through your craft, celebrate that.

And that’s exactly what I want to celebrate now. You, the listener. The reader. All of you who’ve reached out saying how much my music has meant for them. How could there be anything more wonderful than connecting with another soul? Money comes and goes, but our connection will give birth to new creations. New life. How can it be otherwise?

Photo by Karolina Grabowska from Pexels

new single (slow waltz) / new site / new blog

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Hello! Welcome to my new website. It’s pretty bare at the moment, and I need to update my sheet music page with all the extra transcriptions I have available. In the meantime, I wanted to share a bit about my new single coming out tomorrow, which I’m very excited about.

I shared the original idea for this piece back on July 22, 2021 (TikTok, Instagram) when I was writing a short piece each day. I ended up doing it for about 50 days before I decided to stop and take stock of what I had written. I didn’t love every piece, and some were intentionally direct imitations of other composers as a way to try and expand my creative palate.

This piece (at the time called simply “032”) is in 6/8, though it has a two-over-three sort of feel. The right hand plays a melody in four, while the left hand accompaniment sticks to the time signature. It felt sort of like an exercise to me. Quite generic. Like the chord progression was overdone and wrung-dry by more talented composers.

After sharing it, though, I got more feedback than usual, and it had been viewed/shared more than most. Stats never tell the whole story, I’m convinced (a post for another time), though in this case, it made me take a second look.

Why had I judged this piece as “generic”, “too simple”, or “unworthy”? Did I want to write more “original” music? Did I want people to have a certain perception of me, that I didn’t think this piece conveyed? (I’m curious whether other composers struggle with this, and how they deal with it. i.e. – Writing to please rather than writing from the heart.)

When it came time to put this next album together (to be released 04.22.22), I couldn’t ignore number 032. The melody was lodged in my brain, and so I started fleshing it out.

I had worked a B section in (number 045 from those daily shares), but when I stitched them together the transition felt awkward, abrupt and forced.

I had since worked in a bridge (B section), which I liked. But it was still lacking something. Some contrast to the A and B. During the recording week (a/k/a 3:00AM to 6:00AM when everyone else is asleep), it finally came to me. (Those early morning hours are very inspiring.)

Contrast is provided by the melody flipping to 6/8 and the bass stepping up (F#, G#, A, B) instead of chromatically down, as it did in the A section. Not much, but it was enough to make the return to the A section feel fresher.

I’m really happy with where it ended up, and I hope you enjoy the final version. Sheet music for it to come soon, and I’m looking forward to sharing and engaging more with you in this space. —vontmer