The most important lesson of your creative journey

Spoiler alert: doing it well is about getting it done

Some of them I don’t even recognise. I tilt my head to try to connect the article that I’m viewing now in front of me with the moment I created it. Hmmm. I squint somewhere over my shoulder in whatever creative direction I’ve come. A shrug and I get back to whatever I’m creating now.

Some of them I can recognise at a distance. As obvious and familiar as the voices of old friends — and just as welcome. These I’ll smile at, will gain strength and momentum from recognising their value, but soon move past to focus on what I’m creating on now.

For any creative, our next thing is often the best thing. For particularly prolific or disciplined creatives, our past body of work can be quickly forgotten in the life of just getting on with it. But that doesn’t diminish the absolute necessity of it. Or the often painful necessity of earning the muscle memory of creating in the first place (both in depth and at scale).

In other words, the long tail.

The long tail and the paradox of good taste

This long tail is one of the greatest assets for a creative to invest in. If you haven’t seen it, and even if you have, this beautiful video interpretation by Daniel Sax of an Ira Glass recording is essential to visit and revisit.

The long tail of most of our creative work isn’t always accessible — more the tail that swishes out of sight in the undergrowth of inspired expression. But we know it’s there. It’s holding us up as we stretch towards whatever it is that comes next.

As Ira reveals, the doing and the being done is a crucial part of the creative process. It creates not just the work itself, but the trajectory towards mastery. And the resilience and familiarity and appreciation of your intuition — where taste is sharpened against the friction of doubt.

This is a theme that can also be found in the writing of Rainer Maria Rilke (touched with beautiful reverence by Victoria Steyanova in a post I urge you to read). From notable bohemian writer Rilke to the aspiring poet Franz Kappus, the following:

And your doubt can become a good quality if you train it. It must become knowing, it must become criticism. Ask it, whenever it wants to spoil something for you, why something is ugly, demand proofs from it, test it, and you will find it perhaps bewildered and embarrassed, perhaps also protesting. But don’t give in, insist on arguments, and act in this way, attentive and persistent, every single time, and the day will come when, instead of being a destroyer, it will become one of your best workers — perhaps the most intelligent of all the ones that are building your life.

Notable in this letter is the phrase “building your life”. The doing getting done leads to more to explore and do — but also more me and more of you in the process. What we make even with the doubts and hardship and struggle of it, is really a part of fulfilling a bigger potential.

Question: What in your life has benefited from anything you’ve created prior?

Tip: So… do more of that.

The alchemy of “this” into “this way”

We’re not just creating our work. Nor is it just the (pretty magical ability to create a) source of inspiration or emotional connection with other people. We’re creating the opportunity to do so with greater care, skill and abilities in the future.

Again, the next thing is going to be the best thing. And again, remember your own example of things improving with the simple act of creating and sharing.

But it takes work. It takes a whole body of work as Ira reminds and that means a whole load of time. Spending time worrying about a perfect “this” is missing the point that it’s just the first step in “this way”. A great creative life is a narrative, not a knock-knock joke.

Don’t let a the pursuit of a perfect “this” stop you from finding “this way”.

I think we’ve got this

I’m writing because someone reminded me of that. So I wanted to remind you too. And while I have your attention: I think you’ve got this. I think you can knock that next thing out of the park, or just take a swing at it anyway.

…the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. — Ira Glass.

So get to work.


Thanks for reading — I’m David Ryan. I’m the cofounder of Corilla, a collaborative authoring and publishing tool for technical writers. Corilla is on a mission to make technical writing awesome (and you’re invited). If you enjoyed this post, hit the Recommend button or drop me a line on Twitter.