The Creativity Guild is a community of creative explorers looking to reignite our creative sparks. This is the place to reconnect with your creativity, start the projects you’ve always wanted to work on and be the person you’ve always wanted to be.
Subscribe for free below to join the revolution…and to get a free dose of creative inspiration delivered to your inbox every two weeks :)
It’s the late 1980s and I’m in a small classroom somewhere in the bowels of my junior high.
It was our school’s first choir practice. I wasn’t really a choir kid, but my good friend was leading the group and as an act of support I thought I would join. Song sheets were passed around and we began to sing.
But something was off. Cutting through the sounds of the pre-teen song circle was the sound of something creaking and croaking. It sounded…painful.
When the song was done I remember someone whispering “What was that?”
“It was him.” someone else responded, gesturing towards me. I was horrified. It was me. I was 13 years-old and my voice had just started to change.
I never went back to choir practice and for years refused to sing in public. I had learned at that moment that I was bad at singing.
The same thing happened with sports. A couple of years before the voice croaking singing incident, I showed up for tryouts for my school’s soccer team. I went to a small school, which meant that everyone made it onto the school’s soccer team…except for me and one other kid. In an attempt to let us down easily the coach took us aside and said “Maybe soccer’s just not your sport.”
It was at that moment I realized that not only could I not sing, but I was a lousy athlete too.
Same goes for dancing. At the end of my junior high career I can remember being at a party in my friend’s backyard where for the first time in my life I felt music move my body. I danced the whole party long. It was liberating. The next day I was told that I had looked stiff and didn’t move my hips when I danced. It made me self-conscious of my dancing ever since.
These were foundational stories for me. Things that stuck with me and ended up, to some degree, defining me. Yes, these were all moments of unskilled feedback delivered in an incredibly unhelpful way, but even knowing that, all of these moments left their mark and became part of a narrative of how I view myself.
I’ve had decades since those moments. Decades full of feedback around things that I am really great at. I’ve been told that I’m a good father and that feels incredible. I’ve been told that I’m creative, and that feels pretty great too. I’ve been told that I’m a good cook, and I love that. All these things feel great to hear, but all still tend to pale to the negative impact of the things that I was told I was no good at as a kid.
As I approach midlife though I’m finding myself caring less and less about these labels and stories.
A couple of weeks ago I attended a day-long mindfulness retreat. There was some meditating, some listening to lectures, and a whole bunch of singing. There were about 60 of us in the room and as soon as the song began a familiar feeling of self-consciousness crept over me. I couldn’t sing in public, and even if I did join in I would surely sing no louder than a whisper. But then something happened. I got lost in the music, and at some point not only did I full-heartedly join in, but I began singing loudly.
Once the day was done the person who had been sitting beside me made a comment around how it was fun to be sitting beside me because my loud singing drowned out her own self-consciousness, “Which was ok,” she continued, “because you have a good voice.”
“I have a good voice?” I thought to myself. “Is that possible?”
Despite being a “bad” athlete, I started boxing about a year ago with a group of fellow middle-aged boxers. I love the strategy mixed with the physicality that boxing provides. “Bad” athlete or not, I think I’m a pretty wicked boxer. I own my own badass boxing gloves and boxing gym hoodie to prove it.
As for dancing, at some point I decided that I didn’t really give a crap about what anyone thinks. I loved that moment when I was a kid and first felt music move me, and that’s a feeling I wanted more of in my life. I have a group of neighbours and we all take turns hosting dance parties. A week ago it was our turn. People came over and we danced in our living room for hours. I dance unselfconsciously every opportunity I get.
Does this mean that I’m a brilliant singer, a gifted athlete, or a graceful dancer? Yes, no, maybe, and also who cares. I certainly don’t. What I’ve learned is that these labels and guardrails are no longer important to me. That feels like the best gift that midlife has taught me. I care so much less about being stuck in these stories that have held me back my whole life.
I’m nearing 50, the time in my life where I’m closer to old age than I am to the age of the kid who was told he was no good at things. I’m done with the stories that held me back. Bring on the next chapter.
Creative Prompts
What activities are you holding back from doing because at some point you were made to feel like you were “bad” at it?
If you could go back in time and talk to the younger version of yourself, what advice would you give yourself about being “bad” or “good” at anything?
Are there other stories in your life that you might be holding onto that may no longer be useful or true?
Welcome to our weekly roundup of extraordinary creative people doing extraordinary creative things.
Andrew Kaufman is big in Japan
Ten years ago novelist and friend of the Creativity Guild Andrew Kaufman published a tiny novel called The Tiny Wife. It tells a whimsical story of a bank robber who rather than asking his victims for money, asks the people in the bank to hand over the items that are most precious to them: a calculator, a cheap watch, photographs of children, a copy of Camus’ The Stranger, and so on. The book did well, as well a slightly weird book of Canadian magic realism could do. But what it truly amazing though is that ten years later, and half-way around the world in Japan it’s being turned into a piece of musical theatre. The Japanese theatrical version makes its debut in April. A totally wild ride for a totally weird little book. It you haven’t read the book, it’s a goodie. And if you happen to be in Japan in April, speak Japenese, and enjoy musical theatre, I’d imagine it will be worth checking out too.
Emily Murgatroyd McCann’s letter to her younger self
Steve’s friend Emily is nearing a milestone birthday this year, and in her reflections around where she’s at, she recently published a letter to her younger self full of the advice. It’s pretty wonderful, full of all sorts for great advice for people at any age. Definitely worth a read.