Sharing work

“I'm an artist and I'm sensitive about my shit.” - Erykah Badu

Today is a collaborative post between MAKING and Serenity Never on the subject of sharing one’s work, especially when you’re sensitive. Kat and Nora had a conversation (and recorded it) in which we explore the creative process, the at-times achingly vulnerable process of sharing work, the dynamics of feedback, and the somatic experience of putting work out.

From Kat:

There is an inevitable moment that is part of any creative process:  when our project interacts with an audience for the first time. There is a sense of something inner becoming outer, something private becoming public, something safe becoming tenuous. And yet, we know it needs to happen. Oftentimes, this early stage of sharing is for feedback or reflections, which are necessary components for growth. But what it opens up is so much more vast than just constructive criticism. Our work comes to life in the space between maker and audience. And when that little spark ignites, I remember why I make work in the first place. On the other hand, this moment can be destabilizing or downright depressing. And sometimes, when I really let myself get swept up in it, I wonder why I continue to share work at all? 

I have a strange amnesia around creative birth. I tend to forget about the sting of a joke that doesn’t land or the feedback, both welcome and unwelcome, or the vulnerability hangover that takes days to dissipate. I’ve shared works-in-progress as a performer, writer, and director for a long time, and yet, somehow, it doesn’t get easier. What has improved? My compassion towards myself, my desire for honesty, my discernment, my ability to not take the lows or the highs personally. 

In light of completing the first draft of our script, Nora and I decided to record an off-the-cuff conversation about the importance of sharing work.   It turns out the creative process is a topic that remains endlessly fascinating to me (which is a central theme of my Substack MAKING). I hope you enjoy our conversation! 

With great sensitivity,

Kat

From Nora:

I love thinking about why we desire to be creative as human beings, as artists. What is it that drives someone to create, to write, to sing, to paint? It’s clearly a part of the human condition, and I believe that most people have access to a deep creative well if given enough time and space. That well, when matched with practice and dedication, means that you’ll likely come to a point in which you must share your work — either because it becomes too painful to hide it away or because you need to share what you’re doing to get to the next phase of your work, or both.

In my case, I’ve found that I have a compulsion to share work, often before it’s ready. I think that’s why I enjoy the newsletter medium so much. I can work out ideas and send them on their merry way before my brain has a chance to edit, refine, change, or agonise over them too much. It also keeps me honest, it keeps me writing. Then there are other projects, like a script, that necessarily need time to gestate, morph, change, and become. To get stripped down and built back up. To rearrange the proverbial furniture, as it were.

But whether I’m sending out a newsletter, book proposal, poem, or script, there’s something about the act of sharing that makes me want to be sick. And there’s also the longing for it to be out in the world. What’s so interesting about making work, any work, is that it's both thrilling and horrifying to put it out there. It makes me feel alive, something I’m continuously attempting to achieve. But it also makes me want to die, which can feel like an aberration in my system. To live I have to also die? I thought I was immortal. The vulnerable act of sharing work (and the inevitable hangover that comes with it) reminds me that I am not.

Kat and I decided to have a conversation on this very topic. Much like our creative collaboration, it’s meandering, full of tangents, and doesn’t take itself too seriously, the way I like it. I love talking to Kat because she’ll follow a tangent apace, and yet we always manage to stay on track.

Please enjoy and have a listen!

With love,

Nora x