Talk About a Big Head!

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Artist

Have you ever read The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron? Well, don't let the title fool you. The book is not just for artists. It's intended for anyone interested in going on a spiritual journey to free their inner creativity. Personally, I never had such a desire. If I want to go on a journey, I'd much rather go to London or Disney World.

Nevertheless, I can't tell you how many people over the years have suggested that I read it. I'm talking dozens of people, perhaps hundreds. At first, I thought it was just a nice suggestion, like:

"You should really read The Artist's Way. You'll like it."
Or…
"I was given a copy of The Artist's Way. But I think it's more for someone like you than someone like me."

“Someone like me?” I would ask, not sure what they were implying. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, someone creatively stifled,” they would respond with a smile. “And poor.”

Gradually the suggestions began to take on a much more desperate tone, tinged with a sense of urgency and panic.

"Please, please. Do yourself a favor and read The Artist's Way. It may be your last chance at finding a happy and fulfilling life."

It was as if people thought The Artists Way was some kind of antidote for whatever ailed me.(Though I don't think laziness is really considered an ailment, is it?)

Naturally, I didn't listen to any of these suggestions, which is probably why I remained unmotivated and miserable for years. Then I got laid off from my full-time job and found myself faced with nothing to do, a relatively large amount of time on my hands, and no more excuses. So I decided to pick it up.

Now the first thing you learn as you're reading the introduction to The Artist's Way is that it's a twelve-week program. Not to be confused with a twelve-step program, although I'm sure the principles are similar. And it's not just a book. You actually have to do work. You read a chapter a week and then do all these exercises that are designed to help you "discover and recover your creative self". (And I'm quoting here.) But twelve weeks? I barely have relationships that last twelve weeks.

So I'm reading the introduction and I find out that before I even get to Chapter One, I have homework I need to start right away. And what's more, I have to do this homework every day. (Which suddenly made me realize why so many people kept recommending it. They needed to justify their own experience with this 12-week program by making sure other people did it too. Kind of like a pyramid scheme.)

Anyway, the homework I’m referring to is affectionately known as the "morning pages." Every morning I was supposed to get up and write down three pages of anything that comes out of my brain. It could be stream-of-consciousness, or writing about an event that happened, or just three pages of crap. In fact, that's what it's supposed to do. Drain your brain of all the crap. Freeing you to be a more effective creator, no longer burdened with the pain of mental overload. I almost put the book back on the shelf.

But as I said, I had the time, though maybe not the right attitude. So I started writing my morning pages. And for the first few days, I really enjoyed it. Writing down three pages of bitching is an opportunity one should never pass up. I actually found myself yelling in my morning pages…with lots of expletives and exclamation points.

I blamed everyone in the world for my failures. For my inability to move forward as an artist, for my writer's block, for getting laid off from a job I never really liked. Basically I used the pages to exert my revenge upon the world.

"Boy, will they be sorry. I talked about them today in my morning pages. That'll show 'em.”

Still, even with this daily ritual of bitching, nothing was changing in my life. So I decided to move on from the introductory chapter of The Artist's Way to the first week of the course. My intent was to devote myself whole-heartedly to this project of creative enlightenment. I wanted to completely immerse myself in constructing origami birds and building skyscrapers out of tin cans. Or whatever the weekly projects in The Artist’s Way happened to be.

That was my intent. But in reality, I never made it past the first chapter. For before I even began working on my first exercise, I received a phone call from a woman named Unity Kingsmill. A phone call that changed my life forever. (Of course, if you’ve read “It Happened in Plainfield,” you know exactly what I mean by that.)

I still have my copy of The Artist’s Way, which I fully intend to pick up again someday. (Perhaps even before I get fired again.) As for my morning pages, I haven’t completely given up that form of literary diarrhea. I just call them something different now. My blog.

Is iTunes a Music Enabler?

When I was young and records were still in fashion, I remember the eager anticipation I felt when one of my favorite singers or groups released a new album. I would run down to the record store on the day it was released, find the most pristine copy, and then rush home to listen to the entire album in one sitting. And if I really liked it, I’d listen to it all over again. Sometimes for the rest of the day. (Much to the dismay of my parents, whose musical tastes were clearly different than my own.)

Then I went through a cassette phase, where I bought the cassette version of everything I already had on vinyl. After all, you couldn’t fit a 33” record into a Sony Walkman. Not unless you wanted to do some serious damage to your instrument.

After cassettes came CDs, which were much smaller and more convenient than records, and supposedly better quality than cassettes. I must admit I resisted this new innovation for a while, until the Walkman ate my cassette tapes one too many times. (How I hated having to stick a pencil through the spindles of the cassette to try and reel in the tape that had been pulled out.)

The transition to CD was rather easy, and I thought this would be the last time I’d ever have to update my musical collection to another format. How little I knew about technology. For several years after I made the switch to CDs, I was introduced to something called an iPod. And for a while, I must admit that I didn’t really understand the concept of an iPod. How could you hear music playing from such a little box without inserting a cassette or CD first?

The iPod presented a new level of musical appreciation—the ability to have your entire CD collection on one unit. Or at least as much of your collection as you could fit. And you could even create your own dance mix or playlist, so now everyone and their Grandmother had the opportunity to test out their latent DJ skills.

But the biggest musical revolution of the past few decades has got to be that wonderful online store that allows you to download your selections immediately. I’m referring of course to iTunes, which single-handedly changed the way people purchase music.

iTunes is like having your own private Xanadu, a “place that nobody dared to go.” No more running down to your nearest Tower Records to pick up the latest Billy Joel CD, or waiting for your latest package from Columbia House to arrive. In fact, no more running down to Tower Records at all, since the company recently closed its doors forever. (An obvious sign of what iTunes has done to the local neighborhood record store.)

It’s sad to think that music stores might soon become a thing of the past. All those aisles of CDs and Albums and Cassettes you once mulled over for hours have now been replaced by the convenience of a click. And how easy it is to click, especially when most songs only cost ninety-nine cents to purchase. Ninety-nine cents!!!! It’s incredible.

And what’s even better is that you no longer have to purchase a whole album if you only like a few songs. Now you can have your music a la carte. Which makes it so much easier to expand your musical tastes to other genres and artists you might never have considered before. Just browse, click on a song title, and after thirty seconds of sampling it, make the quick decision whether to download it or not. And since it’s only ninety-nine cents, what have you got to lose? If you decide later you think the song sucks, you’ve only wasted ninety-nine cents. (Except those ninety-nine cents really add up if you happen to be a compulsive clicker.)

Today, I have the largest collection of music I’ve ever owned. It’s massive, it’s comprehensive, it’s eclectic. But if you asked me a specific question about a particular song or the artist singing it, I’d probably draw a blank nine out of ten times. Because my music is no longer something I anticipate, or research, or know much about. It’s more spontaneous than that. With only a click, I can have instant gratification and a snappy tune. I don’t have to spend hours staring at the album cover, or reading all the liner notes. All those simple pleasures have now become a thing of the past. Replaced with an online jukebox that is not only convenient, but addictive as well. And therein lies the rub.

I’m Henson. And I’m an iTune-aholic.