I spent a recent weekend watching my five-year-old kiddo designing a Mario costume for the third time. It reminded me that any worthwhile project takes time.
“Finishing it is what matters. You have to try more than once to see if your idea works,” I repeated. He didn't care about the unsolicited lesson the previous two times.
He goes through periods of ripping up papers and scratching out previous attempts deemed unworthy. Whenever he avows to quit, I walk him through the process of creating.
First draft of mini zines made in 2024
“The first time is to see what it takes to make it happen. The second time is applying what you just learned. And the third time's getting it to where you feel proud,” I explain.
Usually, he goes back to his project to encourage me to stop talking. I don’t expect him to agree with me—until he uses my words against me during my own moment of frustration.
My message in one way or another is borrowed from author James Clear who says, “Creative thinking is not about generating something new from a blank slate, but rather about taking what is already present and combining those bits and pieces in a way that has not been done previously.”
It took a handful of times for me to internalize this approach. Any idea worth exploring had to be figured out immediately or else it was a reflection of my commitment, intelligence, and ability to complete said project. That perspective fuels tunnel vision and running myself into the ground—I deserve better than that. So does my five-year-old. So do you.
Sometimes we get in our way and forget to feel pride in the journey.
In crisis counseling, we were trained to ask clients, “Have you felt this way before? How did you deal with these emotions last time?”
While I am no longer a crisis counselor, the training has stuck with me a decade later.
Often, I return to these questions in conversations with friends, or solo as a mental check-in. Neither are easy to answer, and initially, it might feel baffling to stop and consider. Every time, I’m reminded that each state of high intensity—whether it is hopelessness, despair, or anger— is part of the journey, but it doesn’t have to overshadow all of it.
On Crafting a Creative Life
2024 marked the 10th anniversary of getting on a stage. It was the first time I shared such intimate details of my life outside of a Livejournal entry, and I haven’t stopped sharing since then.
I finished my first project since my father died on Thanksgiving. This feels small but significant because the project was finished with a sense of pride—a feeling I experienced from the man who taught me that I could do anything, and he did anything he could to ensure it was true.
Previous bouts with grief resulted in me burying myself in work or avoiding all responsibilities for as long as possible. This time, however, I put the hours in. There were many breaks and plenty of crying in between video edits.
This project is one step in a larger effort to change the trajectory in the lives of one of the most vulnerable groups in the United States. My dad taught me that we can all play a role, big or small, and it’s up to us to figure out how we fit within the puzzle.
I’ve given up before, but I never forgot the lessons learned. We keep trying, right?
