Practice is Plum

Visualizing my path of creative practice, Nezu Museum, Tokyo

It’s been a while, and I’ve gotten into the practice of not writing this blog regularly. So, apropos to my lack of consistency, this Plum Indie Blog entry is about practice—about clearing the mental cobwebs enough for the everyday, regular work of creativity. What in modern parlance is called “doing the work.” I bring this to you not as an expert but as someone who struggles to make the time, who runs in circles and falls down holes, who walks into doors that aren’t even closed (yes, that is a little lyric from my unpublished song, Life with Alice), and who, well into this thing called life, is still sorting it all out. Sorting it out…but not giving up.

So, let’s see…this is what I know. You can digest an array of “how to” guides on practicing and good-habit forming, seek the help of a life coach, intently follow your favorite social media influencer’s life hacks, and so on—and from these things you may gather a few pieces of the puzzle that stick with you on your journey forward into a new habit. Certainly, all the above efforts to help you to help yourself are collectively a multibillion-dollar business. Rather than spend money and priceless time on those things, just start practicing your craft—whatever it is and wherever you are in your journey—because no matter what, and how much you try to avoid it, you will need to create your own plan, a highly selective practice plan that only works for you. I’ve tried living intentionally by other’s rules of scheduling, planning, and good-habit forming and have fallen colossally short every time. Back in middle school, for instance, I tried to follow the rather detailed schedule laid out for me by Seventeen magazine, as the cover said to “make the most of YOU!” The yearly August Back to School issue touted a tightly packed daily routine, kicking off the school year with a multiphase facial care process, carefully selected outfit, which may or may not have included leg warmers, and a bunch of other “must do” items before the school bell rang. The day was stacked from dawn to dusk with every imaginable teenage task. I couldn’t locate this schedule now, so I can only imagine that it had a time slot for a nighttime chat with a friend on an olive-green, wall-mounted house phone with a mile-long cord stretching to your bedroom. Anyway, I thought, “let’s do this,” palms rubbing together. I just follow the Seventeen plan and I’ll have a fresh face, trendy outfit, or at least some cool bedazzled shoes and socks that match my school uniform, and perfectly completed homework—straight As and popularity danced before my eyes. Well, the next morning when the alarm went off, I got out of bed—nailing item one on the list—ate a bowl of cereal, and stumbled blurry-eyed to the bus stop, failing to follow any semblance of a schedule before the school bus arrived. Epic fail.

At the time, I chalked up my failure to follow the Seventeen magazine 80s power-packed plan as a genetic flaw or, perhaps, something that I would grow into. I thought that when you reached a certain age, it would all come together—fashion, style, the whole nine. As if you receive a certificate of sophistication and would suddenly know how to style hair, apply make-up, and throw together a jaunty ensemble with effortless flair. But that’s not what happened. I will never be the sophisticated put-together type; I know that now, and I understand that being fashion forward is itself a choice that requires practice. As my older sister once put it, I am a “crunchy granola muncher,” and that ship of style and fashion that I chose not to board sailed away long ago. So, if I happen to have a fresh face, I’ve probably been out running.

So, this leads me to another thing I know. I am good at consistently practicing some things. Exhibit A: I am a regular early morning runner (see Running on Indie) and, though mind, body, weather, and careless, dead-eyed drivers all come into play, I’m still out there after four decades. I do have stretches when I don’t run, but I always come back to it. It’s my jam. When the pink of morning haze (yes, that’s another little lyric from the soon-to-be-released, Away World) filters through the trees, I’m off. I enjoy running enough to continue doing it regularly even though I’m not as fast as I once was. I like to track my runs with an app (see Plum Picks) somewhat competitively with my younger sister and, yes, she is way ahead of me. C’est la vie. Running for me has become more about the everyday, the practice, than the one day, the race. The outdoors, the fresh air, the joy of feeling physically fit from regular exercise—this is the essence of my running practice.

“Sometimes, trying to cram my whale-sized creative interests into a raindrop amount of time overwhelms me.”

Exhibit B: I have mastered the New York Times crossword. I didn’t set out to do this; it just happened because I like words and I like when they are used in clever, unexpected ways. Without intent or recognition, the crossword became part of my morning along with a cup of tea and a biscuit. I started with the easier Monday-Wednesday crosswords and eventually moved on to the trickier and harder Thursday-Sunday puzzles. I have even participated in a low-key crossword competition. Here’s the thing with my crossword puzzle practice: I will not skip a day and I need to keep my streak going; it’s a classic case of Jerry Seinfeld’s “don’t break the chain” technique.  

Gathering inspiration from artist Linda Sormin, who is inspired by the art of Hokusai, Boru Sibaso Paet, on the foam of the primordial sea, Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

So, from these two examples, I seek to crack my own code of practicing and apply it to my creative writing efforts. I’m like a data miner trying to extract the key source and pattern to my practicing abilities. Surely, if I can make slow and steady progress on the New York Times crossword, I can make the same progress with regular, consistent writing. But, like the Seventeen magazine uber schedule not working for me, writing is a different kind of practice from crossword puzzles and needs its own strategy. I’m more like a Frogger arcade game when it comes to everyday writing. I write, write, write, move forward, dodge the alligators, and then I discover that I haven’t written a creative word in three weeks. I’ve missed the swiftly moving log and fallen in the water. Splat!  

As I consider how to adjust my practice strategy to meet my creative needs, I am reminded that, for me, writing is all encompassing, and I unwittingly limit my time in the “pit” (see The Pit of Creativity). What’s more, I split my creative time between writing, guitar, songwriting, singing, recording, etc., etc. Sometimes, trying to cram my whale-sized creative interests into a raindrop amount of time overwhelms me. However, I am also reminded that there is something incredibly rewarding in doing the work, the creative struggle. Once I am in the “pit,” if I keep the hatch slightly ajar, new ideas come to me as I am doing the dinner dishes and folding laundry. Lyrics simmer up from my subconscious that I’ve never heard before, and there is nothing like waking up in the morning with a new melody floating on the brain waves in your head. Books, self-help gurus, chatbots, influencers, they can’t do that for you. The beauty of human creativity is in the flaws and scribbles and relentless practice of your best self—only you can “make the most of you.”

So, this is what I’m going to do. I’m going to continue following the path of my creative practice, and you should follow yours, and we’ll see where it takes us. Plato has been known to say, “never discourage anyone...who continually makes progress, no matter how slow.” And, let’s internalize that and say, “never discourage yourself as you…continually make progress, no matter how slow.” It may be necessary to rethink how you judge your creative progress. I went from an interest in singing other’s songs, to learning about songwriting, to writing my own songs, and recording and sharing them. I know that, regardless of what my inner critic may think, that slow flow forward is something. And “something” is more than nothing; it exists. I can feel its presence and call it up when I am most in need of a creative jolt. People often say don’t give up on your dreams but, more specifically, don’t give up on the practice of your dreams. As Toni Morrison said, “If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.”

Through this practice of revising my practice strategy, I’ve decided to make it easier on myself and not try to be an indie music blogger per se. I’m an essayist—a thinker of thoughts, a pursuer of dreams, an imperfect writer of lyrics—and music permeates through it all. So, enjoy this Plum Indie Blog music pairing as you get to your practice.

Plum Indie pairing: Roxy Music’s “More Than This”