ADS' chapter on discipline released a torrent of thoughts. I recalled something I read l-o-n-g ago about one of my favorite artists, guitarist Jimi Hendrix (for those of you saying "who?": "guitarist" is just the starting point for describing him). Someone -- I forget the author, but it was someone who had known him -- described the time he found Hendrix standing in front of a stove, wearing nothing but his guitar and underwear, cooking breakfast. Whenever he wasn't turning the bacon, his fingers flew up and down the frets, playing on the strings.
Now that is discipline. Or is it?
To me, the word discipline hints of working at something you don't want to do, but you do it because it is good for you. Dedication, on the other hand, suggests working on something you love; but does it also mean the rigor, regularity of discipline? Sorry if I sound like I'm splitting hairs here, but I'm stuck on this because of the many times I've felt I DON'T WANT TO work on a story I "should" be working on. At times likethis, I approach the story like I approach the dentist's chair. Inevitably I get swept into the story and the work but the approach is sometimes reluctant, lead-footed. I am still trying to figure out the reluctance ...
On the other hand, I also realized storytellers have an enormous advantage re the matter of discipline/dedication, compared to other artists. This struck me when I peeked at the chapter on Jealousy and stumbled over the phrase "every time you go into the studio". Going into a studio -- that takes discipline. My friend Paula, a sculptor and painter, has to get on the subway and ride to Queens (gasp!) to go into her studio. That's discipline and dedication. Also expensive! Her costs include materials and NYC-magnitude rent. As storytellers, we carry our studio with us in our head. We can go into the studio whenever the mood strikes.
Tonight, I found myself telling the trees outside my front door about the Princess' homecoming because I had a new idea I wanted to try out before tomorrow's class. The neighbor's cat walked up and sat down in front of me, waiting expectantly. Although I seem to be doomed to have cats for rehearsal buddies, the real point I'm trying to make is that I'm realizing discipline or dedication or whatever you want to call it may come easier to us if we open ourselves up to seeing it like a muse who can visit us at any time and anywhere.
Another thing I am learning through class is that the more often I discuss, reflect on, or move through a story the more often the muse strikes. So I'm actually beginning to trust that she's going to show up and help me be disciplined. Why? Because I'm noticing that "doing" story stokes the creative fires, that ideas sneak up on me unbidden when I am "doing" story frequently, and this makes it easier to "do" more story.
Hope this makes a bit of sense.
As a storyteller, I would think that discipline would mean that I would be constantly working on my stories---creating them, learning them and changing them to make them better---so that my creative life as a storyteller would never remain static.
ReplyDeleteAnd this, I (strongly) believe REQUIRES having storytelling buddies. I have found that my stories grow and improve when I have someone (not my dog) to bounce off of (and I don't always).
This---I believe--is one of the prime functions of a storytelling guild---it is to give you exposure to like-minded people that need you as much as you need them. So we should all look to join guilds---and to guide these guilds into this critical function.
This makes a lot of sense, Cathy. Thank you for sharing.
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