Turning the Valve

Welcome back, dear reader.  Come on in.  Sit right down.  I’d like to tell you a story.

Come closer.  There, that’s it.  Right there.

Once upon a time, there was a wandering minstrel.  Okay, so he wasn’t exactly a wandering minstrel.  He was actually a poor laborer who toiled in the fields, reaping the fruits of the earth for only a pittance, loading up wagons of rich produce for the nobles of the land to enjoy.

But in his head, he was a wandering minstrel.  While he toiled in the fields, he would invent stories, poems, songs, fanciful tales to deliver to breathless audiences gathered at the tavern of whatever town he was in, or even the halls of nobility and royals.  In his fancies, the people who hung on his every word bought him his food, paid for his room at the inn.  He always left town with enough gold in his pouch to last him for months.

For a long time, Joe the Peasant never told anyone of his secret dream of becoming Joe the Bard.  You see, if he told people, they might laugh.  They might mock him for his foolishness.  Maybe even pelt him with veggies and tell him to get back to work.  They would ridicule him into keeping with the status quo.

For many years, he kept his fanciful dreams and wild imaginings to himself.  One day, while eating dinner, he choked on a piece of food and died.

The End

(roll credits)

Not a satisfying story, is it?

I’ve been thinking a lot about creativity lately.  About what turns it on and what turns it off.  I’ve been thinking about muses and inspiration.  I’ve been reading.  Researching.  Mulling things over.

Along the way, I’ve encountered some amazing creative minds (thanks to the internet and especially Twitter).  One of the revelatory things I’ve come across is the building of Tribes.  After researching the whole concept (I had heard of Seth Godin’s book, but never read it), I came to a conclusion.  I want one.  More specifically, I want to be a part of one.

“So why’d you come home to this faithless town
Where we make a lifetime commitment
To recovering the satellites
And all anybody really wants to know is…
When are you gonna’ come down?”
- Counting Crows, Recovering the Satellites

It’s a simple fact that no matter what great things we set out to achieve, the people we hang out with will always put is in our place.  Or what they think our place should be.  Our at least encourage us not to break with the status quo.  So, like Joe the Peasant in my story, I’ve been pretty hush-hush about what I’m up to.

I don’t want to keep the status quo.  I want to shake things up a bit.  I want to get  a little crazy.  Maybe even exceed my “potential.”  Thats why I’ve been enjoying being a hanger-on in an online tribe of creative types.  They don’t know me.  They don’t know my “potential” or where to pigeon-hole me.

I know.  You’re reading this and saying, “Not me.  I know that you can do whatever you set your mind to.  I support you in everything you do!”  I know you do.  I appreciate that.  But, like it or not, you see me as something.  Teacher.  Retail Manager.  Husband.  Friend.  Mentor.  Game Master.  Whatever.  And I am all of those things.  But I am so much more.

I was telling a good friend of mine about some of the projects that I’m working on the other day.  His response, after a thoughtful pause, “Well… I’m not gonna say I hope you fail, but…”  I don’t blame him.  I still consider him a dear (if misguided) friend.  He just didn’t understand.

Those of you that I know in real life: Yes, I’m restructuring again.  I did a major life restructuring project a few years ago.  I made some huge changes.  I decided what I wanted to do and what I, by necessity, had to do.

In the two plus years since then, I’ve done a good bit of what I had to do.  Even some of what I wanted to do.  But somewhere along the way, the valve got turned off again.

What valve?

The valve to my fire hose of creativity.  I’m turning it on.  It’s time, as Chuck Wendig said, to “make shit, and make it awesome.”  Muses be damned.  We’re not talking a trickle here.  We’re talking full bore.  It’s put up or shut up time.  This is where the rubber meets the road.  Insert whatever tired old cliche you have in mind.  Time to become “CAPS LOCK GUY.”  WE MAY NOT BE HERE TOMORROW.  I mean, come on, I turn 40 on Saturday!  I may not be the “World’s Oldest Geek,” but I’m getting up there.

This blog is the first step in that process.

I know this post isn’t very geeky in nature, but here it is anyway.

So, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, buckle up.  Please keep your hands and arms inside the cart at all times (or risk having them ripped of in gory shreds by any number of sharp metal protuberances)!  I am promising that this is going to be one hell of a ride.  Thanks for joining me.  Thank you for your support.  Thank you for reading.  Thank you for commenting.  It’s you people that inspire me to keep banging my fingers against this keyboard.  Okay, so I’d do it anyway, but it helps.

I leave you (for now… don’t worry, I’ll be back) with one question:

What do you want to do (something that you can do, but just haven’t made the commitment) that you aren’t doing and why haven’t you started yet?