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the War on Art

November 12, 2012

This is the 3rd time I have tried to write this blog. I believe I might be having technical difficulties at home so am writing this in email and will try to publish on work computer.

 the subject is The War on Art by Steven Presssfield.

the subtitle is perfect for this experience (writing) “break through the blocks and win your inner creative battles”

The book is about what keeps us from being our authentic artistic selves.  Whatever holds you back – the  book calls it all Resistance. 

Resistance comes in all forms, with Procrastination the first one that comes to mind.  Right now, resistance is rearing its evil head in the form of typos which I will ignore until time to publish.  Be gone OCD everything has to beperfectl self!!! 

My Resistance in not being the artistic Edie that I always know is there is not Procrastination.  I could never afford to be that because I always had my children relying on me and had to get shit done.  No, my Resistance  is more insidious than that.  Depression.  Ugly self hating depression, but I refuse to be that person any longer.  It has been a rough road, and I hope who ever reads this gets some benefit from my words. 

When I was 15 I made a terrible choice.  One of my 5 strengths is Responsibility, and that strength came back and bit me in the butt big time.  Because I believed 2 con men after talking to them for over an hour I got in the car to go with them to smoke a joint.  1973 – 10th grade high school girl on her way to play practice….I knew within 30 seconds that I had made a fatal error.  They took me to downtown Detroit to a motorcycle gang so they could fulfill some horrible initiation.  I never thought I would make it out alive.  Someone even knew my name, but did nothing to help me.  

It is hard NOT to be depressed when your soul is bruised as mine was when I came out of there. I don’t really believe that I understood what really happened, or actually how to process it.  How do you tell your parents?  How could I ever tell them I was so stupid that I got in the car?  They had to know what happened because I needed a doctor and I was not 16 yet.  I lied.  I said they forced me into the car.  After recovering there was a grace period of omg, thank god you are alive, for me too, and I remember we watched home movies during that period that was really nice.  My parents are catholic.  I can’t blame them for their reaction to me, but it was bad.  At the beginning of my senior year my mother found birth control pills and turned me out of the house, wouldn’t even let me bring my pillow.  My soul now, not bruised, but crushed, stomped and never to recover, never to be accepted, never to be forgiven.  

I carried this pain for so many years.  How it manifested was low self-esteem, and wildness really, I really believed that if it would be so easy to die,then death was coming so I might as well get fucked up.  And my nature is to have fun!  ….after your homework is done (I told you I was responsible!) 

Ok, back to the book!  I am declaring to no longer allow Resistance in any form to keep me from being creative.  I will not let the Bully at work keep me sad and isolated.  The book says that “Cruelty to others is a form of Resistance, as is the willing endurance of cruelty from others’.  

Should I feel for the Bully because she might be acting out as a cruel bitch because of her own Resistance?  

The book talks about the Artist’s code or the Warrior’s Way:   It’s an attitude of egolessness and service.  I definitely aspire to this.  But, I think until I become stronger the Bully can find her own way. 

I will share my loving and giving nature with others for now. 

I would not count the above writing as my best.  The second time I tried to write this was not bad, but I don’t want to allow my pride to stop me from writing, so this is posted.  Just remember that everyone is an Artist.  This is your authentic self, don’t let Resistance keep you from being you!

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One Comment
  1. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

    I’m 20,000 words deep into an exercise I’m doing this month, with the goal being to reach 50,000 words, or the amount of words to be considered novel-length. It has been a great exercise where I’ve learned to just write, not worry about typos, perfection or even making sense! It has been so freeing.

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