For weeks now, I’ve been trying to write a blog entry about getting through the difficult days of an artistic endeavor. Every time I feel the idea in my grasp, it wiggles and slides away again.
The problem is this: my thoughts on art have always been inextricably linked to my thoughts and feelings about the world in which I’m living. And these days, I’ve been really struggling to figure out how I want to talk about that world. In fact, I spent most of July trying to figure out how not to give up. Not on my writing—I’m totally motivated there—but on the world at large.
The heavy machinery of doom just keeps pushing forward, and every setback in our attempts to resist feels like a gut-punch. I’ve been feeling powerless. I’ve been grieving. I’ve been vacillating between anger and utter futility.
To be honest, I don’t really think I have a choice about quitting this bigger fight. I talked recently about how artists always have the option of quitting their art, if that’s the healthier choice for them. But I cannot give up on the greater world, because the things I’m afraid of will only come faster and stronger if I quit fighting back.
Unfortunately, fear is a terrible motivator. You never see an inspirational speech that focuses entirely on the difficulty of the battle ahead and the dire consequences of losing. So even though I have dozens of fears for our shared future, none of them are useful things to focus on when I’m struggling to get out of bed in the morning.
Fortunately, it turns out that I have some practice at this, from motivating my artistic efforts my whole life, and that brings me back to the topic I’ve been wanting to write about. Artists of all stripes have days when the creative act just feels too hard. When the reality of what they’re creating seems miles away from the vision in their minds. When the obstacles they have to face make all their efforts feel futile. Artists have been finding strategies to get themselves through those days for centuries.
And I thought that maybe some of those strategies would help keep me going through this difficult moment in history. Maybe you’ll find them useful, too:
Wallow In Your Spite.
When I was a teenage cellist, I had one particular person in my life who didn’t think I could be successful, and my most energized practice sessions were dedicated to proving her wrong. I know other people who have written whole books out of spite and I suspect this is an especially useful tool for anybody who feels targeted by current world events. Do your art, and live your best life, in literal spite of the people who are spewing hate.
Spite can be uncomfortable in the long term, so can anger. Eventually, I always find that I have to let those feelings go, but in the short term they are both SO much more useful than despair.
Center on What You Love.
Love feels better than anger, and I always know I’ve made the right choices if I can come back to feeling love as a constant. When I’m having trouble caring about my story, I take a few minutes to remind myself what I love about it and why I want to tell it. If that doesn’t work, I imagine my ideal reader, someone whose life will be improved by my story, and I think of the work I need to do as an exercise of active love.
Applying this lesson to the current political moment has been really hard for me, I’ll be honest. It is frequently hard to love a country where so many people have actively chosen meanness and hatred over caring for other human beings. So I start thinking about the people I love as individuals, and then I expand that feeling out to the people THEY love, and with some effort, that ripple continues far enough that I once again feel like the world is worth fighting for.
Do Something Really Small.
Artistically, this usually means setting ridiculously small goals and then reveling in that feeling of success when I meet them. “Today, write one sentence” often turns into, “I might as well finish the paragraph…” But even if it doesn’t, that one sentence is one that didn’t exist before. It keeps the hope alive that something will break free tomorrow.
In the larger world, I’ve been picking up trash on the sidewalk. Yeah, “litter” hardly seems like the big challenge facing our society in 2025, but making my own neighborhood look nicer is a real change I can make without a lot of energy, and it honestly does inspire me to do other things, more often than not. Next thing I know, I’m calling my congressperson. Again.
Reach Out to your People.
Loneliness and isolation make everything harder. It’s really helpful to have a community, whether you’re talking about fellow artists who can commiserate about your struggles, teachers who can help you learn a new thing, or neighbors who can loan you a protest sign because they’re too busy to go that day (Hi neighbors!).
If you don’t feel like you HAVE community, it’s time to find some. Yes, I know it’s harder than I’m making it sound, but it is oh so important. Here are a couple of blog entries and articles with ideas. Personally, I find public libraries to be a great source of craft circles, book clubs, and writing groups, and I recently joined a community chorus which I’m very excited about.
Help Someone Else.
With a caveat: we’ve all got to put our own masks on first. You’ve got that, right? But if you’re feeling safe and stable enough, helping someone else can be a huge mindset shift. Whether it’s an artist needing a brainstorming session, or a neighbor who needs a petsitter while they job hunt, you can absolutely make someone else’s struggle easier. And in the meantime, you’re reminding yourself that we’re all in this together. Maybe that conversation will jog something loose for you. OR maybe it’ll start a small “pay it forward” movement. There’s an added bonus here that volunteering is a great way to find and create community.
Those are just some ideas, but it’s where I’m starting. I’d love to hear from you: whether you have different strategies to get through the hard days, or if you just need to reach out and connect with someone. Let me know you’re out there!