Making ambitious work isn’t easy. Some of the ingredients for ambitious work are in our control or, at the very least, under our influence. We can decide, for example, how much time we dedicate to practising the craft. But there are some ingredients for ambitious work that we simply cannot influence – one of them is timing.
There have been times in the last 7 years that I’ve attempted projects that, in hindsight, I simply wasn’t ready for – landscapes that were too complicated, figures too beautiful, stories not yet fully understood or felt in my bones. I would spend hours, days, and even weeks trying harder and harder to produce something I was proud of. I would wake early, at the crack of dawn, and work long into the night pushing words and pictures around trying to produce a story that helped me capture the picture I had in my head. Being unable to do so, those ambitious projects sat in the draw collecting dust while I worked on projects I was more ready for.
It’s easy to look at those draws full of half-finished ideas, folders full of typed and re-typed manuscripts, and think, “Wow, what a waste of time. Imagine what I could’ve done if I had used that time differently.” It’s easy to see them as failures when, in fact, they’ve been quite the opposite.
When I’m faced with a difficult problem, my instinct is to zoom in; to get closer to the work. To strangle and squeeze as if the tighter the grasp, the more life I’ll breathe into it. I do this by working harder and longer. I think, “If I just spend a few more minutes on this, I’ll get there. I’ll get the expression of that character just right.” But it’s rarely true. In fact, I don’t think it’s ever worked that way. I’ve written before about how creative effort is never wasted but sometimes what ambitious projects need is a little distance.
Squint to see the forest
When I paint landscapes en-Plein air, I squint my eyes to blur the image. This helps me find the tonal contrast of the image rather than focussing on the details – a zoomed out view helps me compose a more pleasing image. It’s the same with writing except I can’t squint at a manuscript, so it needs another perspective.
The second perspective can come from one of two places. The first? Someone other than me; a friend, a colleague, an editor, agent, or publisher. When I’m stuck in the words and pictures, and I get that feeling of wanting to lean in on it – to work longer and harder – the antidote is to send it to someone else. “Have a read and let me know what you think?” or “In its current form, how does it make you feel?” Not only is this more efficient than having me spend hours or days working through something, but it often supercharges the art (or me). After all, anyone generous enough to spend their time critiquing my work is a gift and a statement of belief in me at some level.
The second place from which a new perspective arrives is through time. Putting the work away for a day, a month, a year, or even more gives me space to look at the work afresh. If years have passed since last engaging with the work, it’s likely I’m a completely different person, and so the new me can look at the old me’s work with curiosity, interest, and surprise. Sure enough, because of this, the work moves forward.
Collaboration is the quickest path to progressing ambitious work but we don’t all have a friend, colleague, agent, editor or publisher who believes in our work enough for them to engage and provide that critical feedback we need sometimes. So, in lieu of that, maybe it’s worth keeping it in a draw for a few years and waiting to hear what future-me thinks of it down the road. There’s plenty of other work to keep me busy in the meantime.