Self-delusion, tall poppies, and other creative nightmares

I don’t read so many new books these days as I used to, because I spend quite a bit of my reading time revisiting books I’ve read before.  Most recently I’ve been re-reading Twyla Tharp’s The Creative Habit.  It’s a terrific book, rich with good advice and insight and I find something different in it every time.

Twyla Tharp: The Creative HabitEarly in the book Tharp lists her own creative fears.  We all have an assortment of these, and I knew I had them too, but I hadn’t clearly articulated them to myself and it struck me that this might be a worthwhile exercise.   Then I thought that it might also be good to share them, because it’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that everyone else is super-confident and it’s only ourselves that are shriveling up inside.  So here goes – I’ll share my fears with you, and if you feel brave enough, maybe you’ll share yours with me in the comments.

Fear number 1: I’m deluding myself. 

This is a big one for me – I think about all those people on X Factor who truly believe they can sing and have talent when in fact people are actually laughing at them because they’re so bad.  Whenever a little fin of pride shimmies around inside, I get this awful thought that perhaps I’m deluding myself, perhaps – horrors! – people are amused that I think I can actually do this (whatever it is).

It’s a bit of a twist on imposter syndrome (feeling like a fraud, and that any day now people will discover that’s just what you are), but imposter syndrome is about feeling you’re fooling others, while mine is more about feeling that I’m fooling myself and that others aren’t fooled in the slightest.  I find that a whole lot scarier.

Oddly, imposter syndrome doesn’t worry me so much – I’m a big fan of the ‘fake it till you make it’ school and there have been plenty of times in my life when I’ve had to wing it and have pulled it off.  I know I pick things up fast and improve fast, so I also know I’ll actually be what I appear to be, given a little time and experience.  We’ve all got to start somewhere.

It’s fear of self-delusion that stops me entering photography competitions or putting my work forward in any way that invites judgement.  Although I have moments of it in all areas of my creative life, the fear is strongest in the areas where there’s least chance of objective feedback.  There are methods of assessing art in a relatively objective way, but it’s fundamentally a subjective thing and so I don’t know how seriously to take criticism or praise.  In the end, it’s up to me to decide whether or not my work has merit and I don’t entirely trust myself.

I think anyone who practises an art in any serious way has to be both supremely confident in their work (or they wouldn’t be able to keep going), and also full of doubts about it (or they might fall into the self-delusion trap).  I’m comforted by this quote from the art critic, Robert Hughes:

‘The greater the artist, the greater the doubt.  Perfect confidence is granted to the less talented as a consolation prize.’

And Bertrand Russell:

‘The fundamental cause of the trouble is that in the modern world the stupid are cocksure while the intelligent are full of doubt.’

Of course the mere act of doubting doesn’t mean you’re any good, but I guess it does mean that you’re less likely to suffer from self-delusion.  Strange that doubt can be so reassuring.

Fear number 2: tall poppy syndrome. 

Tall poppy

Once I get past the fear of self-delusion, fear of tall poppy syndrome kicks in.  The expression refers to ‘a social phenomenon in which people of genuine merit are resented, attacked, cut down, or criticised because their talents or achievements elevate them above or distinguish them from their peers.’ (Wikipedia)

While looking for quotes for a previous blog post, I came across this poem by Jane Taylor which encapsulates the rather petty sentiments of those who would cut down the tall poppy (or in Taylor’s case, all poppies):

High on a bright and sunny bed
   A scarlet poppy grew
And up it held its staring head,
   And thrust it full in view.
Yet no attention did it win,
   By all these efforts made,
And less unwelcome had it been
   In some retired shade.
Although within its scarlet breast
   No sweet perfume was found,
It seemed to think itself the best
   Of all the flowers round,
From this I may a hint obtain
   And take great care indeed,
Lest I appear as pert and vain
   As does this gaudy weed.

Well that puts it in its place, doesn’t it!!  All those poppies should just crawl right back into the soil they came from lest they offend anyone by daring to think they’re worth attention!

I’ve never been successful enough to have suffered from tall poppy syndrome, but I’d like to be.  Successful, that is, not a target of it.  But in the lower recesses of my mind I think that if I become too noticeable then people will attack me, criticise me, or otherwise try to bring me down.  I know exactly where this one comes from – if I got noticed as a child (primarily by my mother) it inevitably led to one or more of these, so I kept my head down and made myself invisible, and the habit has stuck.

This is one fear I simply have to ignore.  I know it’s inevitable that the more visible you are, the more likely you are to attract the trolls, but continuing to hide is not a solution. Authentically putting yourself out there is always going to be scary, but it’s so much more worthwhile than becoming what Billy Connolly refers to as a ‘beige person’ – somebody who blends in so well that nothing distinguishes them or makes them interesting.  He should know – he has a purple beard and is absolutely and totally himself at all times.

Fear number 3: people won’t want what I have to offer. 

No Entry, happinessHappiness – No Entry sign – image by byronv2, used under Creative Commons licence, via Flickr

This is quite a biggie, as well, and something I’ve given into till recently.  I tend to offer the kind of services that I think people will want, rather than what truly comes from my heart and soul.   It doesn’t help that a lot of marketing advice tells you to do exactly this: find out what people want, and then give it to them.  And how do you find out? – you ask them.

However, I think that often people don’t know what they want and that perhaps you can offer them something they didn’t know they wanted until you offered it to them. I often find I’m a year or two ahead of the norm – many years ago when I wrote my ebook I had to explain to just about everyone what ebooks were – and what seems suspiciously different now is what everyone’s going to want in due course, so why not go ahead and get in there first?  Besides, by the time it’s the norm I’ll probably have lost interest and be onto something else.

It’s difficult to answer this one.  I’m not sure why I don’t just get on with it.  There are a number of negative thoughts that twist together in small strands to form the thick and sturdy rope of negativity that pulls me back – I’m not sure how to position myself in the market; I’m not sure how to explain or label what I want to do; I find it hard to handle the look of doubt on people’s faces when I explain what I want to do; I have to explain it for them to get it; I don’t know how to explain it for them to get it; I don’t know how to find the people who’ll want it; I’m scared no-one actually will want it; I’m scared of the pain of disappointment.

It’s the last one that has most emotional force.  If you never try anything you won’t be disappointed and you can hold onto the hope that it would all work out if you gave it a try, rather than having to deal with the wrench of disappointment when it doesn’t.  But I’ve been disappointed before.  My life has been full of disappointments and I’ve survived.  I’m still here, I’m still breathing, and I’m still doing things.  And not everything turns out to be disappointing – heavens, sometimes things actually go well.  So why should this fear be so strong?  I don’t know, but it runs through me like the lettering in a stick of seaside rock.  I have to get over it, that’s for sure.

I have lots more fears but none so disempowering as these ones.  I think I’ll hold back on the rest in case you’re already thinking that I’m a bundle of fear-induced neuroses.  (You’d be right, but I’d rather you didn’t think that.)  Are you willing to reveal what scares you when it comes to putting your creative dreams into practice? – let’s share the fears and take their power away.