Do you like self-coercion as a tactic for making art?

One of my favourite pieces of artistic trivia concerns the eighteenth-century Italian dramatist Vittorio Alfieri, who (we are told) would instruct his manservant to tie him to his writing chair every morning until he’d done his allotted quota of work.

Yes, you read that right.

To tie him.

To his writing chair.

Get a good mental picture of that, now.

(What he expected the manservant to do after the writing session is not a matter of polite historical record, hurr hurr hurr.)

Alfieri is an extreme example of a principle so prevalent in our society these days that it might fairly be described as dominant.

(Not unlike Alfieri’s manservant, hurr hurr OK I’ll stop.)

Yes, Nike, I’m looking at you, and your JUST DO IT schtick. Push through the pain barrier. Crush it. All that carry-on.

Sorry, but no thanks. A crucial aspect of my creative practice is that it isn’t forced. I don’t go in for Just Do It motivation, or for pushing, or crushing, or being tied to articles of furniture (…at least, not when I’m working, ba-dum-tssh!).

It’s not my bag, baby

Well, how nice, you may reply, how positively spiffing, Léan, that you need never force yourself to do something you don’t feel like.

Now, hold your horses, because that’s not it either.

All I’m saying is that self-coercion is incompatible with my creative practice.

That’s not some moral stand I’m taking: it’s just a fact. Indeed, it’s a highly inconvenient fact, because I live in the same world you do, and sometimes I need to get something done that I don’t feel like doing.

When that happens, I wish I were able to Just Do It.

I’m genuinely inspired by the model of the super-organised artist who has the Creative Habit locked and loaded. He sits down at his desk each day to rattle out his quota of words. She shows up at her studio having already meditated and put dinner in the slow-cooker. They do what it takes.

It may have been William Faulkner who said he wrote only when inspiration struck – “Fortunately, it strikes at nine o’ clock every morning.”

There’s beauty in that image of regularity, and it works for a lot of people. My grandmother wrote for three hours every morning, Monday to Friday, rain or shine. She published more than fifty books, so presumably she was on to something.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to establish that sort of fruitful routine.

Actually, I kind of am able, just not for longer than about a week at a time. There are too many variables in my life over which I have too little control. Reluctantly, after many attempts, I have concluded that Just Do It is not a viable strategy for me – at least, not for the moment.

And hey, if you’ve read this far, I’m thinking you might be in the same boat. So what do we do instead?

Three ways to make art without self-coercion

One

Do self-engagement. Find out what specific things are apt to lull you into a creative frame of mind. Keep a list, and when you encounter resistance, pick something from that list and do it, with a flourish.

See if that helps.

If the resistance persists, get down in there and be present with it.

Notice the physical sensations it produces. Talk to it, and listen for its responses. Many people find that actually writing down a dialogue with the resistance can help to tease out what’s going on, at least enough to unravel the snarl and get working again.

That’s all you need for now.

Two

Here’s an idea I got from a wise friend.

Beside my desk is a piece of string suspended between two shelf-brackets, with a row of little cards attached to it by those dinky little mini-clothes-pegs that I find so irresistible. On each card is written the name of a current project.

This assemblage is called the Washing-Line of Possibility, and when I look up at it I remember that I’m not trapped; I have choices.

If you’re comfortable with having several projects on the go, and the one you need to work on is unappealing for some reason, try another for a while and see if that loosens things.

You’ll probably find, when you go back to the primary project, that your lovely, helpful brain has been foostering away behind the scenes resolving whatever was holding you up.

Three

Take the softly-softly approach.

Determine what Barbara Sher refers to as the CWU – the Complete Willingness Unit. That’s the largest chunk of your work that does not trigger your resistance.

Think about what you want to get done. Break it down. Now break it down some more. Keep going until that inner voice says, “Well, OK. I could probably do that.”

Even if all you will agree to do is sit down at your desk or stroke your clean brushes or pull open the drawer where the cut pieces lie, that’s the deal.

That’s officially enough.

Let yourself do it, whatever it is, without judgement, then ask again, what’s the CWU?

For bonus points, celebrate every little win. Come up with a delicious reward scheme, and follow through it.

(That last bit is really important, by the way. I don’t want to confess to you how old I was when it finally dawned on me that breaking a promise to myself is really no better than breaking a promise to somebody else. I was old, people. I mean, younger than I am now, obviously, but still. Old.)

And look, if all else fails…

…you can at least procrastinate productively.

Use your resistance as leverage to knock other tasks off the to-do list that might otherwise languish there. My dear, there is no shame in an alphabetised spice-rack. (But if there were, it would be located between the rosemary and the tarragon. AM I RIGHT?!?)

And try again tomorrow. Best of luck.