The "Drammatical Sabbatical" — 25 Tips for the Burnt-Out Creative

We’ve been taught that real artists never stop.
That if you’re not always producing, you must not be serious. That’s a lie.
 
I welcome you, dear reader, to honor the sacred pause—the breath between acts, the quiet before the curtain rises again.

Look. I love art. I love making it, thinking about it, being dramatic about it. But sometimes? Art is the reason I’m lying face-down on my carpet Googling “how to get out of literally anything.” If you’re reading this, there’s a 92% chance you’ve got a half-finished project whisper-screaming your name from under a pile of laundry, and your muse is somewhere in the backyard hiding under a lawn chair.
Burnout is real. It’s sneaky. One minute you’re like “yay creativity!” and the next you’re hate-watching a toddler paint on TikTok and yelling “WHY IS HE MORE PRODUCTIVE THAN ME?!” 

You don’t need another lecture about discipline. You need a break. A soft, juicy, permission-soaked summer of not trying to win a Pulitzer by Labor Day.

Sometimes we chase productivity because we’re afraid of the quiet. 

But stillness isn’t laziness. It’s rebellion. 

You don’t have to earn your peace. You just have to let yourself feel safe enough to rest. 

Burnout isn’t failure. It’s your body begging for wholeness. 

You’re Not Lazy. You’re just a Toasted Marshmallow in a Human Suit

In a culture that trains us to hustle harder, prove ourselves endlessly, and tie our worth to our output—rest becomes radical. 

For artists especially, rest is not optional. It’s how we refill the well. It’s how we remember we’re not machines. It’s how we hear the quiet voice of inspiration again. When you rest, you are not “falling behind.” You’re reclaiming your time. Your nervous system. Your dignity. Your right to be before you do.
 
So I made this list. A list of 25 nourishing, soul-restoring things a burnt-out artist might do during a “summer break” to recover their creativity. Not of “ways to maximize your output” (ew), but of things that might gently coax your soul back into the room after it peaced-out sometime around mid-April. Some are sweet. Some are weird. Some are borderline unhinged. But all of them are here to help you feel like an artist who still has a pulse, not a productivity robot who ran out of battery.

Do one. Do twenty-five. Do none and just lie on your porch drinking a cherry Coke while thinking about doing one. There’s no wrong way to resurrect your weird, wild magic.

 25 Ways for Burnt-Out Artists to Heal Over a Summer Break

1. Take an intentional creative sabbatical (with no guilt). I call mine the "Dramatical Sabbatical" and it not only always gets a smirk and a "that's funny" but it also REALLY WORKS. 
 
2. Delete your social media apps for a week. Or a month. Or forever. 
 
3. Revisit the art you loved before it paid your bills. Just go as a spectator. Be the little kid losing their mind in the audience that screams “I LOVE MUSICALS!!!” at curtain call like a lunatic. Be a giant nerd. Geek out. Turn on music and don't pick it apart, just enjoy it. Read a book and get swept away, instead of writing a review as you read it. You get it. 
 
4. Start a “No Project Journal.” Start a notebook for ideas that don’t have to become anything. 
5. Go analog. Write by hand. Collage. Touch paper again. 
6. Give yourself a week of “bad art on purpose.” (Messy, silly, rule-breaking—just for joy.) 
7. Unsubscribe. Untether yourself from 10 email lists that flood your nervous system with “shoulds.” (Sending them to junk is acceptable too, if unsubscribing is more trouble than its worth)
8. Read something that has nothing to do with your career. Have you heard of reading for pleasure? It’s excellent. 10/10 would recommend.
9. Make one room in your home a “creative sanctuary.” Not for work, just for wonder.
10. Move your body gently. No performance, no punishment—just movement as medicine.
11. Say “no” to something that drains you. Don’t over-explain, and practice this with grace and kindness.
12. Plan an “mute or unfollow party.” Curate your feed with people who inspire, not exhaust. (You can always look the exhausting people up if you need to know what's going on. Once upon a time people sought out news, not news seeking out people. replicate this as best you can in the 21st century)
13. Do an Artist’s Date every week. (à la The Artist’s Way) Indulge in a solo, joyful, inspiration-forward and deliciously unproductive date with your inner artist who is screaming for a playdate. 
14. Wake up early. For the purpose of "not rushing." Just to exist. To sip. To breathe. 
15. Take a “no content” walk. No phone. No podcasts. Just listen to the world. And if you see a perfect flower or a cute dog? Take this opportunity to resist filming it, and use your five senses to simply commit it to memory like our damn ancestors had to do. 
16. Lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling. Really. Let yourself do nothing.
17. Reclaim a childhood hobby you left behind. Macramé, piano, horses, whatever.
18. Write a “permission slip” to yourself. e.g., “I’m allowed to rest without proving my worth.” 
19. Join a workshop or retreat as a participant, not a performer.
20. Write a love letter to your creativity. Especially if you’re mad at it.
21. Rewatch a movie that made you fall in love with storytelling.
22. Try a “no outcome” art day. Create without documenting, posting, or polishing. Just enjoy the sensations. 
23. Declare one whole day “sacred.” No work, no obligations, no guilt.
24. Ask your body what it needs and actually listen. Rest? Get thee to bed. What I call “beauty secrets?” Break out the nail polish. Silence? Embrace it. Connecting with friends? Call them all or go see them. Crafts? Go nuts. Address your actual human needs. 
25. Remember: your art doesn’t need you to hustle. It needs you to come back to yourself

 
 
If all you do this summer is breathe, nap, pet something soft, and scream into a decorative pillow once a week? That’s still “a healing season.” Burnout doesn’t mean you’re broken — it means you’ve been very alive in a system that doesn’t care if you fry. 

Take your time. 
Fill your well. 
Turn down gigs that feel like punishment. 
Eat a peach in the bathtub. 
Let your inner art goblin resurface when she’s good and ready.

Because she’s coming back!!
And you are, too. 
I promise.

Writing Tips, Part 1: YOU and Your Writing

Dear Writer,

You. Yes, you. The one with notebooks full of snippets, bits n' bobs of nice words, characters, plot lines rolling about in your skull. 

 

Okay, listen. I don’t have some magical MFA or a sexy oak desk overlooking the ocean where I write the Great American Novel in linen pants while sipping something with a twist of whatever. I wrote my first real thing in dressing rooms across the earth, between scenes, and then back at home hunched over a laptop with two-day-old pizza on my shirt and a vague sense that maybe I had something to say, if only I could stop binge-watching crimes shows long enough to say it. 

 

So, you’re standing at the edge of the writing world — heart full, hands unsure. You’ve got the spark. Maybe even a brilliant idea or a dozen, and perhaps even a quiet ache at the pit of your gut because you know there’s something in you waiting to be written— but you’re not quite sure how to begin.

I remember that feeling. It’s not hesitation; it’s frozen passion. And it means you care deeply— which is already a good sign that you very well might write something worth reading. 

If you're reading this because you think you might want to write but also you're overwhelmed, terrified, deeply lazy, or just don't know where to stick the first sentence — congratulations! You are already one of us! Let me throw some tips at you like a big sister who’s been through it, swears a lot, and wants you to win even though she can’t find her bra. What follows is not a list of tips. Just tips! Heaven preserve us from any more RULES. Just some tidbits I wish someone had whispered in my ear when I was where you are now (and even some tips very generous people literally did.) 

 

Think of these as a series of invitations: to risk, to observe, to refine, to endure. Writing is less like architecture than it is like gardening: full of dirt, revision, quiet growth, and the occasional, inexplicable blossom.

 

*

 

1. Write for Yourself
You are your first reader. Always. If you're not excited, curious, or emotionally invested in what you're writing, it’s unlikely anyone else will be. Someone will always criticize your work (or, ya know, a lot of other things like your face or your character or the way you compost or whatever because the internet can be a cesspool). So! Please yourself.

If you’re trying to write the next Pulitzer-winning novel because you think that’s what Smart People™ do, please stop. Write the thing that makes you laugh, cry, cringe, or text your best friend at 2 a.m. That weird little idea you think is too personal or too embarrassing? That’s the one. You are your first and only guaranteed reader, so make it weird, make it yours. Forget market trends and imagined critics! Forget that grouchy English teacher who told you you’d never amount to anything!

 

The number of times I followed a rabbit hole of curiosity and ended up with a new draft. 

The number of ideas that started from simple questions, that became research trips to literal Siberia. 

A pandemic poetry class + a love of Greek mythology = the birth of a major manuscript. 

Get curious. Geek out and get to work.
Write the book you’d stay up all night reading. 

That’s where your truest voice will emerge from, find its strength and very likely show you things you never even knew to be possible within you.

 

Highly recommended. Get it HERE

2. Start Ugly. Start Scared. Just Start.
Look. Your first draft is supposed to be trash. That’s like... the LAW. If your first draft looks like it was written by a raccoon with a caffeine addiction, congrats, you’re doing it right. Get it out. Don’t light a candle or wait for inspiration or buy another fancy notebook. Barf out the words. Pretty comes later.

 

Perfection is a myth that will keep you stuck.  
Remember: Perfectionism has nothing to do with excellence, high standards, or healthy achievement or growth. Perfectionism is a deeply-rooted defensive mechanism rooted in fear and fueled by shame.
 

Dr. Brene Brown has researched perfectionism extensively and has stated: 

“Perfectionism is a self-destructive and addictive belief system that fuels this primary thought: If I look perfect and do everything perfectly, I can avoid or minimize the painful feelings of blame, judgement, and shame.”

 

All perfectionism does is keep you stuck. It also makes you miserable and often, quite insufferably judgmental of others which gets you uninvited to parties.

All to say: write your sh*tty, imperfect thing.
Don’t wait until you’re “ready” or until everything is perfectly mapped out. Don’t wait for a good hair day or for inspiration to strike. Don’t wait for anything. Perfection never arrives. Conditions will never will be ideal. 

Sh*tty First Drafts are allowed to be wild, rough, incoherent, even embarrassing. They’re meant to be. That’s why they’re not called Genius First Drafts. I know someone that brilliantly calls them “Fertilizer Ideas.” I love this! Because sure fertilizer stinks, but it makes things grow! 

 

Think of first attempts as sketches, not sculptures. Think of them as the first horrendous stumble-through of the play you’re rehearsing (you know the one where someone broke a toe, props went missing, we accidentally skipped 34 pages. A disaster. But a start!) The first draft is allowed to be chaotic, overwritten, full of clichés or clunky metaphors. It’s supposed to be. Your only job at that stage is to get the words out of your head and onto the page. The CRAFT comes later — in the revision.

 

3. Create a Routine That Respects Your Energy
You don’t have to write at 5 AM  like some bootstrappy productivity robot. You don’t need to write every day, and you don’t need to lie to yourself about “finding the time.” You don't need to write by candlelight. Or in a leather-bound journal with a quill. What matters is that you show up consistently in a way that supports your life — not disrupts it. 

Are you sharpest at night? Carve out 30 minutes after dinner. Care-taking? Steal 15 minutes during breaks, meal, naptime. Make actual time — even if it’s ten minutes in your car outside Target — and do what you can. Nobody’s giving out gold stars for suffering.

 

Your writing rhythm should support your life, not fight it. Find what works for you and truly honor the ritual the way you would meet any other part of your needs, your wellbeing.

 

4. Gracefully Accept Rejection


Rejection sucks and you will absolutely take it personally. Then you’ll eat a cookie, watch four hours of Love Is Blind, and live. That “no” doesn’t mean you’re garbage— it just means that particular person wasn’t into it. Maybe they have bad taste. Keep going. Be petty and persistent.

 

When you start offering your work, expect rejection. Rejection is not a verdict on your worth — it’s a rite of passage. Every author you admire has been rejected (often many times over). It stings, yes. But it also toughens you, teaches you resilience, and sometimes, if you’re open to it, gives you clues on how to grow. Don't let a "no" from someone else become a "no" from you.

Rejection is a human experience that can be very stressful and unpleasant. That is why many people do anything they can to avoid it.  But just like many stressful and unpleasant things, the more you accept the sensations, allow the feelings of discomfort to move through you like a wave that WILL break and ebb should you allow it to follow nature’s course, bearing it becomes much more, well, bearable!
We feel stressed when we assume an outside circumstance is beyond our ability to cope. Unpredictability, uncontrollability, overwhelm, self-worth being challenged. Give yourself the gift of these experiences. They breed true maturity.
So.
Be business-like about submitting your work.
Keep track of who you've sent out pieces to and file feedback, especially positive comments.
When a story or poem is rejected, just send it to the next person on your list; keep going until no options remain.
After you've finished a piece, start something new. Put the old one aside for now.
Remember that plenty of novelists have two or three unpublished manuscripts under the bed.


 


5. Don't Give Up

You will doubt yourself. 

You will wonder if it’s worth it. 

You will be tempted to quit — maybe more than once.
Don’t. Keep going. 

Take breaks, revise your goals, let the draft sit if needed — but don’t let self-doubt have the last word. The world needs your stories. More importantly, you need your stories.
Don't give up because you're not some jerk’s definition of “successful.” Just keep creating. Unapologetically and with all your heart. 

 

There will be days when you want to quit and take up knitting or go fully off-grid. That’s normal. But if writing is your thing— even if it’s just kind of your thing— you owe it to yourself to keep going. Take naps. Cry. Write again. You’re allowed to take breaks, but you don’t get to ghost yourself.

Also? You never know what will happen later in life or even after you are dead. A historian in times to come may discover your diary and recognize its unique insight into twenty-first-century life. A poem you wrote many years ago may suddenly appeal to someone and be published or get chosen in a competition. A novel that was rejected 30 times might get dusted down and see the light of day many, many years after you first wrote it.

Plenty of good novels don't get published and lots of indifferent ones do. Despite what the world wants us to believe, life is not a meritocracy, and it certainly isn't fair. 

Don't get mad about it. I mean, or do. Punch a pillow or two. Eat your feelings. But then move on.

Keep going, live in hope and be open to whatever happens— and more crucially, whatever could happen that you might not even have the capacity to conceive of yet. 


 

6. You are a Writer Because You Write
Not because you’re published. Not because someone approves. Not because you have an agent or book deal. Not because your sentences are flawless.
You are a writer because you sit down, listen to your thoughts, and try to shape them into something meaningful. Or, in a more Eastern approach to creation: you trust that your work is out there, existing, and your job is to take away everything that is NOT the art. Remove the marble that David is trapped within.
That is the work. That is the art.

You don’t need anyone’s permission to begin — but if it helps, let this be it.
Start where you are. Use the voice you have. Write the thing that won’t leave you alone.
I’m cheering you on, always.
 

Creative Exercises for the Quarantined Brain — Part 4

© Nick Bantock

For those of you who have been reading along for all these years now, it comes as no surprise to remind you that fine visual artist, author, unofficial apprentice to “The Trickster,” and now my dear friend and colleague, Nick Bantock, has likely been the greatest artistic and creative influence in my life.

In his book “The Trickster’s Hat” dedicated to an “apprenticeship in creativity,” Nick Bantock writes:

“If you want a shortcut to originality…this isn’t the book for you. On the other hand, if you’re willing o be led hither and thither down unlikely paths by fellow of dubious reputation, if you’re prepared to keep a sense of humor and not be fazed when he plucks the unexpected out of a mischief-studded hat, if you’re ready to zigzag, detour, and wander in search of a better understanding of your artistic core, then please feel free to slip-slide further into these pages.”

And slip, you absolutely should.

What I have come (both in reading and experiencing first-hand) to understand about Bantock’s remarkable take on the creative force, is that he does so in the spirit of a slightly naughty child— the place where all best play gets done if you think about it. The question “what can I get away with” is as crucial to breaking the shackles of creative bondage as any skill. Giving oneself permission to break the rules and be led by, if not become, the “Trickster” as he calls it, is over half the battle.


*

1. Exercise #3: Add Up a Series of One-digit Numbers…FAST! 

Adding up small numbers in your head quickly (4+7+9+3+2+2+8+5+8…) compels you to continually change the information that you are having to work with and remember. As you’re adding up the numbers, your grand total constantly changes and to arrive at the next total you have to focus solely on your current total and the next number you are adding.

There are very few mental exercises where focus and continually evolving information play such an important part. Which is why this one is so helpful in training the mind to remember essential information while deleting other data or details when they are no longer needed.

So the next time you’re standing in line at the grocery store and you’re tempted to whip out your cell phone and send a text, why don’t you instead whip out a dollar bill and add up the serial numbers as fast as possible!

2. Forbidden Joys

Another exercise from Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way.

To quote her directly:

“One of the favored tricks of blocked creatives is saying no to ourselves. It is astonishing the number of small ways we discover to be mean and miserly with ourselves. When I say this to my students, they often protest that this is not true—that they are very good to themselves. Then I ask them to do this exercise.

List ten things you love and would love to do but are not allowed to do. Your list might look like this:

1. Go dancing.
2. Carry a sketchbook.
3. Roller-skate.
4. Buy new cowboy boots.
5. Streak your hair blond.
6. Go on vacation.
7. Take flying lessons.
8. Move to a bigger place.
9. Direct a play.
10. Take a life-drawing class.

Very often, the mere act of writing out your list of forbidden joys breaks down your barriers to doing them. Post your list somewhere highly visible.”

3. Turn Your World Upside-Down

One infallible way to really shake things up in your clogged-up creative mind is to literally turn your world (or drawing) upside-down.

Directions:

- Locate a picture of a person’s face (it can be a conventional photograph or something more abstract)
- Now turn the image upside-down, and re-create the images that way. Try to ignore the fact that you are drawing a “human face—” that concept comes with many preconceived notions about what human faces are "supposed to" look like, and it puts our brain on automatic pilot, robbing you of valuable observation skills!  Instead concentrate on the basics: shapes, lines, angles, and patches of light and dark. You’ll be surprised at what your eyes are missing in the every day when you view the world with less scrutiny!

Based on concepts from Betty Edward’s book Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, this exercise is used to strip us of our conditioned perspective to look for recognizable features that make up the face. Instead of seeing, “oh this is where the nose is supposed to go, this is the place for the eyes,” we begin to see the face for how it actually is.

Now, this can be applied to anything: writing, photography, lyrics to a song, reading a play out of order. Take the concept and run with it.




4. Finishing Lines.
An exercise from Bantock’s own book.

“The standard way of writing fiction is to plot a story line, then flesh it out as you go along. Once begun, some authors like Joseph Conrad would work on one page at a time for eight hours a day. Others, like George Simenon, the creator of the French detective Maigret, would spend weeks mentally developing a storyline, then explode onto paper with 200 pages in 48 hours. Their speed may have been vastly different, but their linear approach was similar.
However, that is not the only way to write.
[…] The next exercise is meant to be a springboard. I’ll start you and then you take it from there" 

Materials: pen and notebook
Time: 30 mins
Instructions:
- Add to the following starting points by writing down whatever comes to mind.
- Don’t stop to think— just go with your stream of consciousness.
- Complete this sentence:  

the horse felt obliged to express itself by…

- When you’ve done that, write down the sentence that might come BEFORE that sentence.
- Now add another sentence to finish:

She could not help herself, the date was waiting…
… The horse felt obliged to express itself by…

- Same again.
- Write the preceding sentence and the following one.
- And again complete and add the before and after:

…Elvira looked at her brother’s fast-growing…

- You should now have three sets of sentences.

- See if you can find a way to link these sets together in a vaguely cohesive fashion.

- Once you’ve done that, you can go back in and edit it, changing a few words here and there to help bring it together. By then it should have some life of its own. Try expanding it further, developing any characters or themes that have begun to show themselves.

- Just write— keep going until your 30 minutes are up. Then read it aloud to yourself.”

© Nick Bantock

Creative Exercises for the Quarantined Brain — Part 3

Dr. Brené Brown, researcher, speaker, seeker and author extraordinaire, has the following to say about creativity:
“Here's what I've learned about creativity from the world of wholehearted living and loving:

1. “I’m not very creative” doesn’t work. There’s no such thing as creative people and non-creative people. There are only people who use their creativity and people who don’t. Unused creativity isn't benign. It lives within us until it’s expressed, neglected to death, or suffocated by resentment and fear.

2. The only unique contribution that we will ever make in this world will be born of our creativity.

3. If we want to make meaning, we need to make art. Cook, write, draw, doodle, paint, scrapbook, take pictures, collage, knit, rebuild an engine, sculpt, dance, decorate, act, sing – it doesn’t matter. As long as we’re creating, we’re cultivating meaning.”



1. Use The “Dr. Seuss Technique”

While a creative block usually comes because we simply can’t come up with any new ideas, it can also come from having too many.

The blank page is scary, not only because of what’s not there but because of all the potential it holds.

So, if you’re feeling overwhelmed with the work, follow the Dr. Seuss technique.

Before writing Green Eggs and Ham, his beloved children’s book that has sold 200 million copies around the world, Theo Geisel (Dr. Seuss’s real name), had accepted a bet from his publisher, Bennett Cerf. There was only $50 on the line, but Cerf said Geisel couldn’t write an entertaining children’s book using only 50 different words.

We all know what happened. But why?

There are a few reasons the constraint actually made Seuss more creative:

    •    It forced him to use novel solutions. If you’re a photographer and don’t have a lighting setup, you think up new ways to get the shot you want.
    •    He wasn’t distracted by options. When your options are limited, you don’t fall victim to choice paralysis and can focus on getting things done.
    •    It made him think practically. When your canvas or toolkit changes, you have to rethink what you can actually do. This changes the conversation from “What should I do?” to “What can I do with what I have?”



2. Try "Translating"

Ideas are greatly stimulated by the process of transformation. Converting things from one form or medium into another can guide thoughts in totally new and exciting directions. One idea leads to another—and then you’re off on the ideas trail.

The Russian artist Wassily Kandinsky translated classical music into abstract paintings, selecting different colors to signify the varying emotions the music provoked. He also invented a machine that translated musical sounds into instructions for paintings.

Project:

- "Translate" the following words into an image or into a physical manifestation of typography—

LAZY

HAPPY

LOUD

SOFT.

"You're horrible at 4,5,6,7 things! SEVEN-- AH HA HA!"

3. Your Self-Critic Won’t Leave You Alone? Set Tiny Goals With Strict Deadlines

There’s a nagging voice we hear when we hit a creative block.
Enemy Thy Name is SELF CRITIC.
Enemy Thy Name is CENSOR.
Enemy Thy Name is... VAMPIRE.

You know the Voice. It might be the voice of your doesn't-get-it-Grandma or your middle school art teacher (me! My 8th grade Art teacher was a major worst-kind-of-teacher jerk), or your always prettier and better than you sister. It might be the voice of The Count from Sesame Street. Look I dunno your life. What I do know is that the messages are always the same:  

This isn’t good enough. 
You’re terrible. 
No one’s going to like this. 
Why are you even doing this?  
No matter what you ever do, you will never be good enough.

The jerk-face, bold-faced-lying Self-Critic is a foe we have all faced. (Some genius people even wrote a whole song in a musical about it and may I humbly suggest "Die, Vampire, Die" become your personal ANTHEM) But look I get it: at times the Vampire Voice can get so loud that it drowns out our ability to do anything at all. You get stuck, and you need a few cloves of garlic to free your sorry self.

Here's a basic tool you can use to shut it up (or at least quiet it enough to get back to work).

After finishing his first novel in 1847, author Anthony Trollope would go on to publish 47 novels, 18 pieces of nonfiction, 12 short stories, and two plays in his lifetime. Good for you, Trollope. How did you do it?
Trollope’s secret to never being blocked? Simple: Stick to a strict schedule.

Specifically, he would write 250 words every 15 minutes, using his watch to keep him honest.
Not only did Trollope’s schedule silence his self-doubt (the Vampire couldn't get a Transylvanian word in edgewise! No time!), but it actually built creative momentum. The faster you complete a creative task, the more you put yourself in a mindset of productivity, and nothing has ever been accomplished without productivity. Ideas don't get published. Ideas don't get produced or hung on walls. Physical, real things do.

Exercise:

- Collect a pen and paper, or your favorite typing device.
- Turn off distractions (especially temporarily disconnect the internet) 
- Set a timer for 15 minutes
- Write about a cause you believe in, passionately. The more it fires you up the better.
- Do not stop for any reason--spelling, grammar, better ideas, the cat being adorable/annoying.

You'll be astonished at what happens when you hyper-focus your attention on a simple task for a set period of time. Facebook and the cat will be there on the other end of the exercise. I promise.

Creative Exercises for the Quarantined Brain — Part 2

© Nick Bantock

Steve Jobs famously said that “creativity is just connecting things.” But anyone facing a creative block knows it’s a lot harder than grabbing ideas out of thin air. And we sure have a lot of very very thin air these days.

Creativity can be made to seem complex, but it is as easy and natural as it was when we were children, society has merely conditioned the art of PLAY out of us as adults.

And no, KAREN, there’s no “creativity gene” or section of your brain responsible for creative thought. Creativity isn’t for dumbbells or woo-people in tie-dye, or for the professionals. We can’t choose to turn creativity on or off. As the Atlantic reports, many studies have found that creativity happens unconsciously and beyond our control, and I say let it flow, baby...

One’s ability to come up with novel ideas (not merely, “beautiful” or “award-winning” or “conventionally artistic” ideas) is now one of the job market’s most sought-after skills. “Solutions-based thinking” is a buzz phrase bandied about a lot in the corporate world. Well, what are solutions other than creative ideas for conventional problems?

As an artist, however, I rely upon my creativity not only as my livelihood but to keep me pushing forward as a human being, feeling a sense of purpose, drive, expression, and meaning in and with my creative outputs.

Luckily, just like anything, we can get our creativity into better shape simply by engaging with it! And like any skill, practice makes better, and that can only be achieved with some exercises!

Onward.

*

1. Keep it Simple

Problems are often obscured by an overload of information. Clarify and isolate the challenge you face by spending time understanding and defining the problem.

Can you simplify it down to 10 words?
5 words?
3?
Or even just 1?

By constricting your language, you have to boil your project/pitch/idea down to its absolute most essential self, identifying the kernel and thus giving yourself a chance to really tackle it with laser-beam focus.

Project: Writer Ernest Hemingway famously laid down a challenge to write a story in six words. One of his is infamously gut-wrenching.

"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."

Try it for yourself— a complete story with a beginning, middle and end in six words. Or perhaps update this to a 21st century Twitter challenge and write an entire story in 140 characters.


2. Complete the Picture

This is quick exercise dubbed “The Doodle Dandy” I found on the (sadly now-defunct) webiste How Design.

Exercise:

- Create a stack of simple one-line phrases on scrap paper

Here is their sample phrase list, though I encourage you to come up with your own.

"Happy as a clam"

“Time and time again“

"Where in the world?"

“Feed your head“

"Human nature"

"The art of noise"

and  "Here comes trouble"

- Next cut up blank scrap paper, and mindlessly draw a few stray lines on each page as a starting point.

- Select one phrase, and one doodle paper from each pile… 

- And draw the phrase using the already-existing lines on the doodle page.


3. Set Tight Deadlines (And Hit Them)

Break your current project up into the tiniest possible increments and set short, strict deadlines for yourself. (This isn’t just helpful for creativity by the way — I do this with household chores too! Instead of “clean apartment” I divide the list into micro tasks and take delicious pleasure in checking them off!)

For example, say you’ll write down five new places to find customers every 10 minutes for an hour, or that you’ll write 250 words of a new blog post every 15 minutes.

Wanna really add some tequila to this here cocktail? Take a tip from lifecoacth and bestselling author Jen Sincero and “make a bet with someone ‘mean.’” Or, fine, someone who will very seriously hold you accountable to your promises and deadlines, who will not let you slide despite any excuse to devise (including, say, GLOBAL PANDEMIC).

Sincero also suggests you bet something painful to lose, like an amount of money you have, but would be painful to see disappear. Fear of failure and fear of losing something you care about can do wonders for your self-discipline. Up the ante? Make the check out to an organization that makes your flesh crawl, and send it to your friend who will send it immediately should you let the deadline slide.

Having an accountability partner is critical to success, but this makes it ya know: spicy.


4. Alternative Uses

“Alternative use” creativity exercises have been around for many years. For example, in 1967 J.P. Guilford developed a creativity test (of sorts) that gave participants two minutes to think of as many possible uses for a common household object. This experiment is now commonly referred to at the “paper-clip test.”

While participants don’t actually have to construct different uses, some ideas are weighted more heavily than others.

Responses are ranked according to the four categories in divergent thinking:     - fluency (how many you named)
    - originality (how common the answers are)
    - flexibility (how many unique subjects you cross)
    - and elaboration (level of detailed response).


Project 1: The Paper clip test
    - Take an ordinary paper clip and place it before you.
    - set a timer for 2 minutes.
    - Write down as many unconventional ideas for the paper clip

Here are some fun options:

• a zipper replacement
• an earring
• a fishhook
• a toilet fixer
• sculpture making material
• a tool to reset the router
• an ear-piercing device
• a lock pick
• an ornament hanger
• a photo holder
• cuticle pusher cleaner,
• a hairpin.

Project 2: Turn trash into treasure—
Collect all the junk mail that comes through your letterbox today and turn it into something of great value.
What else can you do with a newspaper?
A political flyer?
A take out menu?

We see most things—objects, buildings, spaces, materials, technology, and systems—through the lens of habit and familiarity. We take them for granted, overlooking numerous other possibilities. Combat the mind’s tendency to assume that something can only function in a familiar way. Asking yourself “What else can I do with this?” will lead to new discoveries and ideas.

Creative Exercises for the Quarantined Brain — Part 1

When we were young, creative play came easily.
A cardboard box became a three-bedroom house, a hospital or a spaceship as you battled the local neighbors in the yard. Children are used to looking at objects for what they can be, instead of what they ARE, at face value.

As adults, as we experience more criticism and feedback, are told to be “realistic” and “practical,” in or ambitions, imaginations and scope of the wider world, and as a result, the Adult Self becomes less open to playful and creative thinking. Think about those first moments transitioning from childhood to adulthood— the dawn of middle school where children and young adults start to mature and become “aware” of their selfhood in internal and external ways, becoming suddenly self-conscious and judgmental. The truth is, this is the moment we as humans get embarrassed more easily— about everything! Not simply at our ideas. And, in turn, we lose our creative freedom.

All animals play as a form of practicing for life’s necessities. Lions “play” with one another at hunting, to be in shape for when the kill is truly on. So too must we! This shaming of Play is not only a detriment to the very “productivity” our society holds so dearly, but we do extraordinary damage to our psyches, with invisible, but very real scars.

So whether you’re feeling distracted, out of ideas, or are coming up against a creative wall, here are some creativity exercises to help get the juices flowing.

* 

1. Be “Notice-y”
My father had a really sweet phrase he used with me when I was little. He called me “NOTICE-Y.” I guess he observed that I had a gift for visual foraging—spotting, getting curious about, and ultimately utilizing things I’d “notice” that most others overlooked. “That was very notice-y!” He’d say, and I’ve never forgotten it.

I’m pretty sure I got the quality from him. I remember a particular charming story about my Dad in the “notice-y”department one incredibly ordinary summer day when we were sitting on the bench outside our front porch peeling and eating oranges. My Dad was such an Innocent (in the archetypal way)—he reminded me of Feste from Twlefth Night: a wise child’s spirit in the body of an adult man. He looked down at the orange he had just peeled, observed the perfectly even slices and laughed with glee. “Look Al,” he exclaimed, “pre-sliced food! Isn’t the world amazing?” He was in earnest.

Having an active rather than idle curiosity about the world around you reveals bigger ideas. So be “notice-y!” Take note, be eye-sy, ears-y and nosey.


Project: Spot and collect the faces, animals, letterforms, and numbers that are accidentally created by wear, repair, time, decay, spillage, breakage, update, replacement, light, shadow, rain, or snow. Some of these things only reveal themselves when you look at them sideways, upside down, or in reverse.

Use a journal, a camera, a voice recorder— anything you have to do to get it all down.




2. Magic Circles

This is undoubtedly one of my absolute favorite exercises for quickly shaking up the settlements at the bottom of our personal creative “tanks.” A quick exercise that anyone can do with just a writing implement and paper.

Exercise:

Take a look at the worksheet below and either print it off or replicate the blank circles by hand on your paper.

Next, set a timer for three minutes and get sketching! Your goal is to utilize as many of the circles (with somewhat recognizable objects) as you can during that time— don’t feel obligated to stay WITHIN the circle, you can think outside the circle, and view the circle as a portal to infinite possibility. And above all: turn off the inner censor! Don’t allow your inner critic to evaluate the drawings, but make as many as you can. No artistic ability required.

It may sound simple, but you’ll find after you get through the obvious basketballs and peace signs of the world, your brain will be forced to start thinking differently and with greater creative complexity to fill in the rest of the circles. (This could also be done in a group, it’s exciting to get inspired by how others approach this exercise).

No matter what, the circles exercise is sure to leave your brain feeling a little looser at the end—and ready to tackle the next challenge before you.

3. Detective Work. (From The Artist’s Way)

“Many blocked people are actually very powerful and creative personalities who have been made to feel guilty about their own strengths and gifts. Without being acknowledged, they are often used as batteries by their families and friends, who feel free to both use their creative energies and disparage them
When these blocked artists strive to break free of their dysfunctional systems, they are often urged to be sensible when such advice is not appropriate for them. Made to feel guilty for their talents they often hide their own light under a bushel for fear of hurting others. Instead, they hurt themselves.
A little sleuth work is in order to restore the person we have abandoned—ourselves. When you complete the following phrases, you may feel strong emotion as you retrieve memories and misplaced fragments of yourself. Allow yourself to free-associate for a sentence or so with each phrase.” — Julia Cameron, from The Artist's Way

Exercise:
List the following prompts on paper or in your journal.

Set aside at least 20 minutes of quiet, uninterrupted time to answer, and listen to your inner voice as the answers emerge from your past.

Remember: growth is a turbulent movement: three steps forward, one step back. This exercise can bring up a lot of emotions to the surface of our consciousness, so remember to take time and space, and ultimately, to be very gentle with yourself.


- My favorite childhood toy was

- My favorite childhood game was

- The best movie I saw as a kid was

- I don’t do it much, but I enjoy

- If I weren’t too late I’d

- My favorite musical instrument is

- If I weren’t so stringy with my artist, I’d buy them…

- Taking time out for myself is

- I am afraid that if I start dreaming…

- I secretly enjoy…

- If I had the perfect childhood I’d have grown up to be

- If it didn’t sound so crazy, I’d write or make a…

- My parents think (or thought) artists are…

- What makes me feel weird about [artistic] recovery is…

- Learning to trust myself is probably…

- My most cheer-me-up music is…

- My favorite way to dress is…

Adversity 101

    Last year I had a riveting conversation with one of my graduated students, that I (with their permission) decided to capture and share, here. In that instance, instead of the traditional “Ask Al” Q & A format, I chose to preserve the conversation in its dialectic essence, so you could see how beautifully the thoughts and lessons progressed. That conversation became the post "Cherish the Climb," and, to preserve the student's anonymity I called them "The Creature" (yes, theatre nerds, in honor of Richard Boleslavsky’s Acting: The First Six Lessons). Today, "The Creature" returns! (It is in fact, a different student, but they shall remain "The Creature" all the same). Last time I wrote this as a prologue to "Cherish the Climb:"

    "... the subject matter, though specific to acting, is utterly universal to anyone meeting difficulties in pursuing a dream of any kind. It could be about family stuff, relationships, work, or a major life event. (...) When we are in pain or distress we want the discomfort to ease right away so we look for familiar “fixes.” These might work temporarily, but ultimately discomfort is necessary in order to truly grow." 

As I mentioned above, this time around we have a different student, but in the same format, and with a lesson just as universal. The Creature had recently experienced a slew of adversities ranging from mild to severe (at any stage of life, let alone as a college student). Eager (and understandably impatient) to move forward and "get on" with their life, The Creature reached out to me for help, hoping to gain insight and perhaps expedite the process.

    Here is a modified transcript from our conversation. It blew both of our minds, and I hope it helps you too. May we all be our very best teachers in life's many classrooms.

* * *


The Creature: I'm just feeling so frustrated! Not only by the setbacks themselves, but by my inability to recover from those setbacks quickly!

Al: I totally understand, hugely relate, and also? Welcome you to the adult human race.


The Creature: Ugh. Really? This is just how it is going to be for all adulthood.

Al: Well not necessarily! Adversity will happen. Nothing will change or prevent that. But our response to adversity is completely within our hands, and how we choose to interpret and "metabolize" those experiences is up to us. That's nothing but empowering!

The Creature: I think I understand. But I'm not sure.

  
Al: Okay, I hear you. Let's do a series of question and answers. Answer me this: the greatest teacher in the world for Al was..?

The Creature: Losing your dad? Experience?

Al: Absolutely. For me there was the specificity of ‘grief’ but adversity is THE Great Teacher. *This is a little dense so go with me here*

The Creature: Go for it.

Al: Ok. List for me how adversity/Grief might have affected another young woman of 18. Who might I have “become,” and/or, what behaviors would have been conceivable? (Examples: victim mentality, excessively bratty, an addict, over-achiever, etc.)

The Creature: Well, I have an aunt who also experienced and early loss. She grew up to be very closely guarded—she has lots of emotional walls up, is (in my opinion) overly distrustful, intimidated by all emotion, etc. I can palpably see how it affects my uncle and cousins.

Al: Bingo. And how do you perceive that affects them, as her family? (I like that you went straight to your aunt by the way, it shows how compassionate you are).

The Creature: She tried to instill those behaviors in her children. Probably to keep them from getting hurt, like she was! No one wants to see their loved ones struggle. And her children tried to follow those behaviors for a while, but eventually they went the other way and chose to feel their feelings. In a way, I can see that by trying to protect them she sort of did them a disservice, and they have now sort of left her behind, emotionally speaking.

Al: That story is very common and generational; meaning that all generations (and cultures) of human beings on some level collectively decide how the majority will behave/view a certain issue. From strong emotions to the environment to religion. It's been that way since the dawn of conscious humanity.

The Creature: Wow. That's true. Like how segregation seems unthinkable for my generation, but it was largely unexamined by my grandparents as "just the way things are?" Or marriage equality, the environment, even social media?

Al: Exactly like that. So! Back to dealing with adversity. Two Grieving Processes you are familiar with: mine, and your Aunt’s. Two losses, very different outcomes. Let’s look at it this way: Your aunt and I both took the same “Grief” class … but got totally different experiences from that class.

The Creature: Oooooh.

Al: SO here is the big question: is ADVERSITY the teacher? Or is adversity the CLASSROOM?

The Creature: Oh. Both, I think?

Al: In my experience, Adversity is the classroom, and we are the teachers. We self-teach.

The Creature: ... Excuse me for a moment. My brain exploded.

Al: Self-teaching means we show up to Adversity Class and we realize… there is no teacher. That teacher is not coming. But we can’t get out of the classroom until we finish our assignment so we go about trying to figure out what the assignment is, how to do it properly, etc. We have to figure all of it out. Ourselves.

The Creature: Whoa.

Al: Some students ignore this and just literally sit in the classroom for the rest of their lives, really resentful that they ended up there.
Some get on the internet straight away and buy loads of hippie voodoo books and a crappy journal, and talk to people who have taken the class before about how they got out of the room….
Some people numb out and ignore being in the room with food, drugs, alcohol, sex, TV, whatever…
But, crucially? WE are the teacher.
So… welcome. To Adversity Class. What are you gonna do in here to get the most out of this class? You literally only get out of it what you put in.

The Creature: Wow. Okay. I'm going to work my ass off in Adversity Class.

Al: Get that A girl! And as for your poor poor Aunt, it is okay. She is moving at her own pace and capacity, and likely informed hugely by her generation's relationship to dealing with adversity. She is mostly just so afraid of this class.

The Creature: She's terrified of it. I don't think she ever got out, really. She’s under the impression that the teacher is that teacher who is mean and punishing and you can never get an A.

Al: I agree. She’s still sitting in there. All she wants is for the people she loves to never enter the room. But that’s not how this life thing works. She takes HER pain class, and you take yours. You can’t get the A *for* her, you can only get it and give it for/to yourself.

The Creature: *brain explodes* 💥💥💥💥💥
^ my brain.

Al: Okay. So now let’s do my favorite thing. Let's turn this around for a second. Teach this back to me.

The Creature: Hahaha okay 😂
So, something crappy happens to you.
Really crappy.
Next-level crappy.
And you're in pain.

Al: Got it
*THIS SUUUUCKS!!!!*
^ me, in pain.

The Creature: Thank you for the demonstration. You are now being sent to Adversity 101.

Al: *This Class sounds like it SUUUUCKS!*

The Creature: So you get there, and discover that there is no teacher. The teacher is not late. The teacher is not coming. (And, by the way, there is not that rule that if the teacher doesn't show up after 15 minutes you can leave.)

Al: *That is ridiculous how am I supposed to take the class if there is no teacher? How do I know what to do to pass?*

The Creature: So you can either choose to sit in the classroom and suffer, you can try to dull the pain, numb out, avoid the problem with a variety of vices, but none of those options actually fix or heal the pain.

Al: *Okaaaaay. So what is the alternative?*

The Creature: You can freakin’ do something about it! You are in a fancy classroom filled with lots of resources! You can address the adversity head on, or sideways, at whatever pace feels effective for you, and along the way you can even figure out what your study techniques are!

Al: *How do I do that?!*

The Creature: Well. You can start by writing some it down—journaling all of your real feelings in a shitty ugly journal (like you taught me to do, because you’re so right, no one can really totally let loose and let go in a gorgeous perfect journal). So, all of those overwhelming thoughts and feelings you don't even want to acknowledge? Put them in there.

Al: *That sounds hard.*

The Creature: It is and it will be hard. But you have to pass this class.

Al: *Or else what?!*

The Creature: Or else… you never leave. And that means you never grow.

Al: [PS this is really fun]

The Creature: [STOP BREAKING CHARACTER]

Al: [Okay sorry sorry] *So what else can I do to pass? And also! how do you know if you get that A?*

The Creature: You can read some self-help books - the ones that people sometimes laugh at and call “weird” or “hippie voodoo.” Some of them are weird and out there, but a lot of them are at least a little helpful, with lots of science to back them up, practical examples, actionable things to do.

Al: *Can I just read the good ones and skip the stupid ones? Or will I have to possibly endure some stupid ones too?*

The Creature: Read as many as possible. They're on the syllabus.

Al: *Ugh. Okay.*

The Creature: And also, you can talk about it. Talk to people you trust, talk to people who have taken this really tough class already.

Al: *Oh! That sounds helpful!*

The Creature: It totally is helpful, and they're often really willing to help. Also, if you need to, talk to professional helpers and healers?

Al: *Yes, it sounds like, in this metaphor you’ve made up, that mental healthcare professionals might be like a super-tutor for this class?*

The Creature: Sure. Mental Health professionals could absolutely like talking to an expert on Adversity 101— you jut have to find the just-right super-tutor.

Al: Yes that sounds right. In my experience with tutors, you have to shop around a little but it’s worth it. *Okay okay so I take Adversity 101, and what if I get a bad grade? Do I have to keep retaking the class until I really learn my stuff*

The Creature: Pretty much, yeah.

Al: *Also: even if I pass— will I have to take the class again someday?! Like, OMG: I graduate but then years later I take Adversity 102, 103, etc.*

The Creature: Probably.  "The thing about pain is it demands to be felt." - A pretty shitty book I read once, but that quote was great.

Al: *But what it sounds like is that those classes are hard, but nothing is ever harder than Adversity 101?*

The Creature: Yeah, basically. 101 is the hardest. But here’s the great thing: if you have to take Adversity 102 or all the way up to Adversity 4052, you can always use what you learned in Adversity 101 to get through it.

Al: *Well that sounds genuinely useful and thanks for your help! I’m gonna work my ass off in 101!*

The Creature: Yes.

Al: *So I better get on with the work, huh? Because I kinda want to get an A now.*

The Creature: Yes.

Al: . . . [Can I be me now?]

The Creature: [Fiiiiiine.]

Al: TA-DAAAA!!!!👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 Ok! So this is now so helpful because now you are gonna have the superpower of being able to see if someone is sitting in Adversity 101. They might even be in “class” and not even know it.

The Creature: Right.

Al: You’re gonna be all like “I know what you’re going through and this stuff is HARD. If you ever wanna talk I’m here.” But then? You have to walk away and leave them alone because, again, they are their own teacher. YOU can’t teach them.

The Creature: Right.

Al: And here we are, coming back round to the point:
It sounds like your aunt is possibly stuck in the class. Maybe she’s never even left. And it is frustrating because NO ONE ELSE CAN TEACH HER. You cannot make her learn, force her to read the books or write the personal statement essays. You have no power over her vision of reality.
You can only use this, and every, situation… to teach yourself.
One day, you will look back at this the exact same way I view the loss of my Dad: as Adversity 101. As the moment I learned to teach myself how to truly be honest and authentic and vulnerable and thriving in the world, unafraid of Pain— because I *aced* that class, bitches.

[*bows*]

The Creature: 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 Brava.

Al: I thank you. Don’t you feel better than you did earlier today?

The Creature: Oh SO. MUCH. BETTER. Different-person-better.

Al: Yay. Okay, gimme your thoughts.

The Creature: Okay
1. This officially goes down as the best (and also probably weirdest) text conversation I've ever had.

Al: 1. Me too.

The Creature: 2. There is nothing I want more in this world than to get my aunt out of that fucking room. But I can't.

Al: 2. Good girl. I know— you can’t do that. That is her business.
In this life there is
Your business,
Their business,
And God’s business.
    You can only worry about Yours.
(I didn't make that phrase up, incidentally, someone else did. I just forgot who. Apologies.)

The Creature: 3. I'm also realizing that while my aunt was stuck in Adversity 101, there were other events that happened that should've sent her into Adversity 102 and so on. But she couldn't move on because she was still stuck in Adversity 101. So now she has multiple course loads piled up in front of her and she can't deal with any of them.

Al: THAT IS THE BEST EXTENDED METAPHOR EVER.

The Creature: THANKS — I TOOK AP ENGLISH.
4. But I can learn from that and say, "Wow, I never want that to happen to me. So I need to get the heck out of Adversity 101."

Al: 4. That is exactly right.

The Creature: 5. So I'm going to work my ass off. I'm going to journal and read and think and communicate. I'm going to choose not to suffer, like I've been doing for the past couple of weeks which has led to so much anger and craziness and tension and blah. And I'm also going to look at my aunt with a lot more empathy and compassion because I know that she's stuck in Adversity 101!

Al: [This has seriously been one of the best conversations I’ve had in recent memory]

The Creature: [This has seriously been one of the best conversations I've had ever.]

Al: 5. Creature? This is The Work. Welcome. You are well on your way to ace-ing this class. The most important part of anything on earth is how you choose to view it. I am so so proud of you.

The Creature: I don't know what I would do without you. I honestly don't. Thank you. Thank you infinitely.

Al: Thank you. You have given me a gift too. It is an honor to clarify these thoughts in your presence and in doing so, grow with you and from and because of you.

The Creature: If I can help you 1/100th as much as you've helped me, that means the world to me.
I actually can't believe how mind-blowing this conversation was.
Oh also, one more realization:
I think the last time I was really in pain was when I got rejected from all those summer stock auditions last year and I thought I was going to die. But that adverse journey led me to you. So I'm going to trust that this journey will lead me to something good as well.

Al: Okay there you go! ^ That is data: evidence of how good you are at this. And how you are gonna get a freakin’ A+!

The Creature: Oh I'm going to get a 💯 so hard. I'm going to kick Adversity 101's ass.

Al: Yep. And then? You’re gonna be the best study buddy ever. Someday (I promise) you are going to be having this exact conversation with someone you love/are mentoring, and you’ll know how far you’ve come.

The Creature: Thank you for showing me the way.

Al: You are infinitely welcome. It has been so rewarding and mind-expansive for me as well.

The Creature: Okay, my brain is tired from exploding so many times. I should probably go to sleep now. 😂

Al: Me too.


The Creature: Thank you.

Al: Thank you.

The Creature: Goodnight. 💜

Al: Sleep well: you have class tomorrow. 💜

A Letter to my Beloved Students

Pandora.

Beloved babies, 

You have all been on my mind in the most profound way the last few difficult days. I can only imagine how shocking and frightening it has been for you, seeing your world churn in this way, feeling unsafe, and I am certain, afraid. 

I do not blame you. 

I want you to know that I keep my promises: you shall always have complete safety with, and and ally in, me.

So many of our shared memories have flooded through my mind in the last 72 hours: the now ever-more relevant themes of Electra and her struggles, the house of Oedipus, our ever-more prescient Trojan Women, the Hope remaining in Pandora's jar. Every single one of the plays we made together are ancient, and the ancients have been warning us of life's joys and horrors  for 4000 years.

But above all, I thought of Spoon River. 

People. Just people. Ordinary Americans with a myriad of pasts, needs, goals, myths, and pains--Americans who have just endured the First World War, with differing views, beliefs, politics and outlooks... yet there they all are, sharing the hill.

I am so proud to have been any part of your lives; you know how much you have always meant to and given me, and it is an honor to start to call you friends and not just students. Our paths are intrinsically intertwined and I felt compelled to share this moment with you. You are the future. 

Every night this week, the themes of Fiddler have been chilling in their relevance, but still we serve, and the catharsis of that collective, shared service has been a source of healing for the artists and the audience. That is what theatre has always been there for in society. You are the lucky servants, and we are the creators of the present and future. We have a job to do, we must serve to change the darkness that seems to swallow our world.

For freedom isn’t free, my loves. It blooms by the blood of those who seek it, and those who protect it against forces that would take it away. Artists have just been given the greatest role of all: to fight with our stories, our acceptance, our empathy. To lead with our understanding, our temperance and our tolerance for and of others, but intolerance of hatred and evil. That is NOT political. That is human. And as artists we are tasked by representing that humanity. 

Do not despair, create.

Do not destroy, serve.

Do not raise your fists in anger, reach your palms across the divide in an attempt to understand.

That takes courage, that takes dignity.

Be bigger than your opponents.

Love more than you could ever be hated.

And on the note of love:

I love you.

I love you truly.

I think love is the best super power we have, and I am sending all of mine to you for you each are beautiful beacons of hope; there will never be words for the gifts you have given me, and I hope I have given you a 1/100th in return.

Remember my babies;
The good we do.
How much we create.
The respect we bestow.
How hard we love—no one gets to vote on these.

With every last fiber of my heart,

Al

xx


Song of the Builders by Mary Oliver

On a summer morning
I sat down
On a hillside
To think about God

A worthy pastime.
Near me, I saw
A single cricket;
It was moving the grains of the hillside

This way and that way.
How great was it's energy,
How humble it's effort.
Let us hope

It will always be like this,
Each of us going on
In our own inexplicable ways
Building the universe. 

Mentorship: Modern-day Alchemy

Introduction

Some mentors are easy to spot: they work for the Y, they have an office, a piece of paper that says they’re “allowed” to be looked up to and followed.

Often, they also have a specific connection to a vocation, like the apprenticeship model of ye olden days.  A young up-and-comer with reasonable potential, a fair amount of chutzpah and a spark of fire in the their belly dutifully reports to the workplace of Ebenezer Scrooge to learn a trade (hopefully with more coal and fewer ghosts…)

In modern times we have less and less of these relationships. The internet has become our universal teacher and connect-er—an “apprentice” can learn almost anything from the world wide web— from make-up tutorials and de-husking corn, from tiling your own bathroom to the intricacies of complex computer fixes. We no longer look to others we know—but to helpful, anonymous strangers.

I’m not complaining. I’ve credited YouTube countless times for assisting me in getting shit done (thank you for helping my mom reverse flush her engine core The Internet!)

But what gets lost is palpable— a relationship cherished and nurtured since Ancient Greek times, ingrained deep in the mire of our culture: true mentorship.

And what, truly, is mentorship? Traditionally it is defined as a relationship in which a more experienced or knowledgeable person helps to guide a less knowledgeable or experienced apprentice (sometimes also called a protégé—or, in contemporary times even referred to wryly as a “mentee”), so that the master’s knowledge and mastery becomes that of the protégé, giving them a launching pad with which to create their own path to individual mastery.

A great mentor knows where to focus attention, how to properly challenge the protégé; providing the most productive and meaningful kind of insight. Great mentors provide immediate and realistic feedback on the protégé’s work, so they can refine their skills in a streamlined and often, transcendent manner.

But those are all big fancy words.

True mentorship is above all, an interconnection based on Ye Olde Human Interaction; a learning partnership between someone with vast experience and someone who wishes to learn on a deeper level. One in which the tribal elder exceeds the practical role of teacher—that is to say, one who passes on factual information—but goes beyond to the highest reaches of human connection.

In essence: the way one can spot a mentorship is that in its presence, both parties are forever transformed.

*

Tyne and I

I first met Tyne Daly in March of 2010, when I was fortunate enough to be cast as Sophie DePalma in Terrence McNally’s Master Class at The Kennedy Center as part of a festival titled “Nights at the Opera”—a trilogy of McNally plays about McNally’s greatest passion. On day one I learned my first lesson from Tyne:

    “Hey kid: breathe. It’s free.”

Not bad advice for anyone, let alone someone who probably hadn't exhaled since 1991. 

I sat in the bowels of The Kennedy Center smack dab in the middle of what I now fondly refer to in public as "a period of extraordinary personal change" but what in private I recall as akin to ripping off my own skin. It was alchemical transformation and adversity, the very best kind of ass-kicking grow-up-or-else kind of moment. 

A gaggle of beautiful actors were all gathered together in our Nation’s capital, who, as it happened, were all also a period of the exact same nightmarish skin-ripping life exercise for all of our company, including Tyne. Marriages were over, pregnancies discovered, apartments lost, loved ones passed on. What an operatic-sized palaver. The details of that are unimportant, suffice it to say everyone was going in through it, looking-up-to-see-the-bottom kind of struggles. Heart-broken, grief-stricken, stupefied, broken-up-with, lost, and God-oh-God: out of town. 

Despite what could have been a group of suffering individuals in their isolated pools of light, we somehow made the collective choice to come together, and feel like shit as a collective, and allow the art to move through us and heal what was left of our hearts. Heck: it beat isolating ourselves in our individual misery-soak hotel rooms. (I mean, it was 2010—we still had to pay extra for WiFi...)

The climate of tenderness that surrounded that process was a kind of an aperture into the deepest recesses of human vulnerability.  It was then I learned my second lesson from Tyne: 

     Q: What does it mean to truly be a leading lady?

    Tyne: “Two things only: a leader, and a lady.”

We were brave because she helped us to be, and because she encouraged us to be and bring our highest selves to the process, it lead to our greatest work, a Broadway transfer, not to mention  lifelong relationships.

But what happened between Tyne and I specifically was magical. We shared something on a deeply spiritual level; had a connection in our eyes that I lack language to express. And as Sophie learned from Callas, so did Al from Tyne, and all the combinations therein.

The day we meet Sophie DePalma in Terrence McNally’s beautiful play, she has a great deal to prove—to the Julliard faculty. To her classmates. To Bellini. To that hateful ex-boyfriend we know nothing (and everything) about. But the day we meet her, all of that is secondary. That day Sophie has everything to prove to herself. And when I first met Sophie, so did I.

Tyne trusted me enough to bestow upon me the honor of truly playing with me.  Playing in the fencing-master-tossing-a-rapier-at-the-student-who-has-some-potential sense of the word.  She picked up her blade and challenged me with a valiant, open heart and a wry smile. To this day, it was the best match of my life.

She treated me like an equal (on and off stage), and I endeavored to deserve that honor. Her “game” improved mine, and what we created together is, without exception, my greatest, and most precious creation. We played the kind of “Deep Chess” Lawrence Ferlinghetti talks about in his poem of the same name:

“For you must play deep chess
Like the one deep game sparky won from fisher
And if your unstudied opening is not too brilliant
You must play to win
Not draw...”

Her Callas was towering, tender, monstrous, human, vulnerable, honest, and ultimately, incandescent. 

 As long as I live, I shall never forget it.

*

Mentorship: Modern-day Alchemy

It is known fact that when we admire people, we become more impressionable to everything they say and do.  We pay a fervent attention, a deeper kind of regard, and because our souls are engaged, it allows for a more powerful kind of learning.

After the run of (the aptly titled) Master Class in Washington, I was at a loss for what to do with my life, more specifically, where to live next. I had spent the last decade or so in the United Kingdom, and did not have a base in any American city…

…So what did Tyne suggest? Why, moving in with her of course. What followed was (yes, as you probably imagine) a series of Auntie Mame-like tales of absolute joy, friendship and epic learning—a back-and-forth dynamic that fueled, and perhaps healed, us both. An electric spark that only burned brighter as I gazed deeply into her mirror.

Lessons like going for walks:

    “How about we walk from the top of Central Park to the bottom? All we need is the right shoes and the right ATTITUDE. Which, come to think of it, is all we ever need…!

Lessons like, believing in your own longevity:

    “Long after the world has forgotten so many, I am going to come see you play Cleopatra. Just keep going kid.”

Lessons like:

    - day trips
    - poetry recitations
    - how to make the perfect ginger beer
    - Countless trips to concerts and the theatre (naturally)
    - Poker night
    - An actual 'Twelfth Night' ritual (where we invite everyone over, and we eat and drink the very last bits and bobs from every tupperware and wine bottle til nothing is left) 
    - The listening of radio plays
    - Writing
    - Discussions of theatrical greats of yore
    - The moving of my 110-year-old Chickering piano to her New York apartment, where it currently still lives.
    - Tarot card readings

And, when my heart broke recently in the presence of another theatrical experience, she offered the following:

    “You are gonna be heartbroken, beaten to death, crushed to a pulp, disappointed and obliterated. But other than that? You’re gonna be okay.”

*

Life is ephemeral. So is the theatre. We cannot hold it in our hands. We all love that which vanishes. The play must end. The company shall disband, life will march on.

And just like the ephemeral theatre, thus is life: our time here on earth for learning and growth is finite. Nowadays we often think it is admirable to “become ourselves” all on our own, to DIY the apprenticeship phase of development and emerge fully formed as if artistry and mastery hatch out of an egg with no visible signs of effort or training.

I encourage you to humble yourself to the apprenticeship process, for without role models, teachers, parental figures and mentors, we can waste valuable time attempting to gain knowledge from un-serviceable sources.

Further, be courageous enough to ask for mentorship. There is always a quivering ego involved in asking for help from those we admire, but trust that those with lessons to offer more often than not, truly wish to have the opportunity give back in a meaningful way, they are merely waiting to be invited to do so. Have faith that the process will be mutually beneficial, and remember: no matter what there is nothing to be lost by complimenting a master, and asking for their guidance. 

Above all, while we must always strive to grow beyond those who came before us, we must revere and learn from those that broke the ground originally, and endeavor to honor their legacy; then continue it in our own vision.

*

A Moment

Hours before our first preview on Broadway, Tyne asked me to come down to her dressing room to run our lines together in an "Italianne”— a run of the lines at increased speed. Italiannes are like calisthenic warm-ups for your brain, and with so much talking and nerves high, they are a great tool in moments such as these.

We settled down, placed our bags, zipped our cardigans, and sat down in her room—not yet moved into, not yet her own.

And then, without ceremony, we began.

There was no music. There was no one else. It was just us and the words.

Throughout this experience, I had accustomed myself to criticism—I needed Tyne’s feedback to be a realistic appraisal of who I was as a human being and actor; through that kind of evaluation, we all develop a confidence that is much more tangible.

One might  think that in that dressing room—flourescently lit and unceremoniously dressed—that  this little exercise of the run would be dry, hollow.  But the words were so powerful, and our feelings for those words, and above all, for each other, so unutterably potent, we both directly went ”there."

Tears fell.
Hands were grasped.
It was our own little theatre, our own magic, right there in that sterile little room.

It is in this sacred moment that I realize I have chosen, and been chosen by, the perfect mentor according to my dreams and Life’s mission—the future artist I aspire, endeavor, and dream to become.  The mentor you choose must be allied in the same way.

    "... I want you to imagine you are Amina. This is opera Sophie. You're alone on a great stage. Make us feel what you feel. Show us that truth..."

That's it.
We finished.
There was a silence and in it, we both looked away.

Then she leaned in, held my hand and uttered,

     "I love this. And you."

©clinton brandhagen