Does Your Art Feel Like a Cheap Trick? Learn to See the Magic Again
When I was a kid, I fell in love with magic. Not the spells and wizards kind, the kind with playing cards and sponge balls. I had seen geeks in tuxedos pulling rabbits out of hats, and I desperately needed to join their ranks. Unfortunately, I soon discovered the downside to learning how the tricks worked: I couldn’t watch magic shows anymore without focusing on the secrets. Instead of a miracle worker performing inexplicable wonders on stage, all I saw was a guy hiding a ball in his hand and secretly shoving it in his pocket.
When I got older and became a writer, I realized that a lot of creative people go through the same thing. They start to learn an art form, get too focused on the “tricks,” and ruin it for themselves. They start getting heckled by their inner critic and ruin their own magic.
In a sense, all art is an illusion. From writing to painting to sculpture to theater, art is an attempt to portray life and ideas and experiences, but it’s only a portrayal, not the thing in itself. No matter how good you get, your characters will never come to life. Your painting of a pipe is not and can never be a pipe.
The illusion is created through that medium’s specific tropes, tricks, and techniques. Filmmakers can show a few aliens in a bar and imply a galaxy full of them. Artists can use a simple outline to imply someone standing in the background, rather than drawing an entire crowd in full detail. Writers can make an ordinary phrase seem like A Big, Important Thing just by using capitalization. Art is trickery the whole way down.
Unfortunately, being fooled is like being tickled: you can’t do it to yourself. Whatever art techniques you use, they will always be less effective on you than your audience. You’re always going to see the tricks, so you’re never going to see your work from the same perspective that your audience will. So, what do we do? How do we stop seeing the secrets, stop getting heckled by our inner critic, and learn to see the magic again?
First, accept that your inner critic isn’t a bad thing. Your inner critic’s job is to remind you to focus and create something great. You hear that voice because you care about the work you’re producing. The goal is not to mute it, but to turn down the volume and make sure it only speaks up at appropriate times.
Turning down the volume on your inner critic:
- No matter what your inner critic says, be kind to yourself. Never talk about your creation or your creative abilities in a way that would hurt you if those words came from someone else. All creations are imperfect, but they are all worthwhile. They are all an opportunity to learn, grow, and improve. So avoid negative self-talk. Words are powerful magic. What you speak becomes your outlook on life.
- Spend time creating without a goal. Do some freewriting, doodle on an envelope, or other improvisational creating. This is great practice at shutting off the judgmental part of your brain and just enjoying the process. And who knows? If you spend enough time creating random messes, the CIA might decide to buy them.
- Never create and edit at the same time. They are two different mental processes with two different goals. Personally, it takes time for me to switch gears from writer to editor and back again. I write much more quickly if I save the editing until after the chapter is complete. More importantly, separating your creating and editing will help you keep your inner critic quiet until you’re ready to listen.
- Before you judge your work, take a step back. You can’t enjoy a painting if you’re standing close enough to see the brush strokes. After you’re done creating your first draft, put it aside for a while. The longer of a break you take between creating and editing, the more objective you can be. A good, long break will help you see what actually needs to be fixed. You might be surprised at how good your creation looks through fresh eyes.
- Get a second opinion. Find people you trust, whether they’re beta readers or a writing group or a friendly critic, and ask them what they think. This can be a bit scary, I know, but it’s worth it. Objective eyes will see flaws you never noticed, and ignore “flaws” you thought were glaring but don’t actually matter. When you get feedback, remember that everyone has art they love in spite of – or even because of – its flaws. The biggest Star Wars fans will talk endlessly about filming mistakes and nonsensical plots, but still keep coming back for more.
- Finally, don’t compare yourself to others. Some writers have more experience than you, or more training, or more industry connections. It doesn’t mean they’re better or that your work can never be as good. You might not be Andy Weir or Martha Wells, but remember, they will never be you. Your work has its own unique appeal that other creators could never duplicate, no matter how famous they are. You might not get that big movie adaptation or Apple+ series, but your work could be a cult hit with a small but rabidly devoted fan base. That’s pretty cool, too.
If you’re still tempted to be overly critical of your work, think about pottery. My wife loves handmade bowls. At the last art fair we went to, we got to talking to a potter, and he admitted that the bowls he sells are intentionally “95% perfect.” He wasn’t being lazy. He just knows that “100%” bowls are much less popular!
When people go to an art fair or farmer’s market and they see a “too perfect” bowl, they assume the potter is just reselling manufactured stuff from a store. To them, a perfect bowl feels like mass produced junk, an imitation of handmade art. When the potter is a little less careful, people can tell the bowl is handmade. It’s obvious that an artist made it, not a machine. To his customers, the tiny flaws are charming. When you look at these tiny imperfections, you can practically see his hands at work, almost like you’re looking over his shoulder and watching him make the bowl.
Next time your inner critic claims your work is just a bunch of cheap tricks, remember that you’re not the final judge of your work. There are people out there waiting for a creation just like yours. People will love your work, sometimes in spite of the tiny flaws, but very often because of them. Keep growing your skills, but don’t worry about every little flaw. You might think you’re just a guy in a bad suit and ugly tie shoving balls in his pocket, but there might be a kid in the front row who thinks you’re a god. Your artful illusion could change someone forever.
