I got a lot of responses -- both private and public -- to Tuesday's weepy blog about the guilt of being an artist. One of my favorites was from a childless artist, who commented that the guilt is there whether or not you have a kid. That is so so true. I really don't feel guilty when I hire a sitter to go to a gig or teach a piano lesson because I'm earning an income when I do those things. It's knowing that creating art does not generate income (immediately) AND knowing that it's not something I need merely "once in a while," that makes me feel bad.
That said, I've been thinking a lot about art v. craft lately. In the songwriting workshops I've taught, it's a big part of my lectures. I'll skip to the good part: basically, you need to have perfected the craft part so that the art has a solid outlet. In other words, if you don't practice writing, even if you yield lots of crap, then you won't be ready to write when the good ideas hit you.
I used to be able to wake up, make a pot of coffee, and start writing. Not all that I wrote was good, of course, but I wrote. Daily. And when I got a great idea for a song, I was ready.
I know binders full of women writers (#binders) who can wake up two hours before their kids do and start writing. They also write during their children's naps. A high school friend managed to publish a novel this year by doing just that. (I bought said novel, and you should too.) They make it seem so obvious.
But my struggle is:
Anyway, enough pontificating. Thanks for sticking with me. As a reward, here are some cute pics of the wee boy, along with some cute things he has said this week:
1. "I'm so tall ... like Notre Dame ... in Paris." (said while standing on Daddy's stomach)
2. "May I have nursies now, please, Mommy-o?"
3. "I swim underwater to you!"
4. "I want to go to Renaissance Fair. In Colleen's car!" (We went to the Faire a few weeks ago. Another blog about that.)
5. "We're cooking scrambled eggs for breakfast."
6. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I understand what you are."
He may not sleep, but he is advanced in the chatterbox department (shocker!).
That said, I've been thinking a lot about art v. craft lately. In the songwriting workshops I've taught, it's a big part of my lectures. I'll skip to the good part: basically, you need to have perfected the craft part so that the art has a solid outlet. In other words, if you don't practice writing, even if you yield lots of crap, then you won't be ready to write when the good ideas hit you.
I used to be able to wake up, make a pot of coffee, and start writing. Not all that I wrote was good, of course, but I wrote. Daily. And when I got a great idea for a song, I was ready.
I know binders full of women writers (#binders) who can wake up two hours before their kids do and start writing. They also write during their children's naps. A high school friend managed to publish a novel this year by doing just that. (I bought said novel, and you should too.) They make it seem so obvious.
But my struggle is:
- My kid still doesn't sleep through the night (he's 21 months old), and his naps are short, unpredictable, and sometimes non-existent. I've gotten used to it and stopped complaining about it, but that doesn't make me any less sleep-deprived.
- I'm so out of practice with my craft that it takes me about three hours away from the Wee Boy before I can wind down and start to write.
- Ergo, I need to hire a babysitter for, like, 10 hours a week or something, so that I have time to wind down and get my craft-groove back.
- I feel guilty hiring a babysitter for so long, when my art income isn't as much as she earns.
Anyway, enough pontificating. Thanks for sticking with me. As a reward, here are some cute pics of the wee boy, along with some cute things he has said this week:
1. "I'm so tall ... like Notre Dame ... in Paris." (said while standing on Daddy's stomach)
2. "May I have nursies now, please, Mommy-o?"
3. "I swim underwater to you!"
4. "I want to go to Renaissance Fair. In Colleen's car!" (We went to the Faire a few weeks ago. Another blog about that.)
5. "We're cooking scrambled eggs for breakfast."
6. "Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I understand what you are."
He may not sleep, but he is advanced in the chatterbox department (shocker!).
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