Expect Less: An Easy Hack to Create More
By: Rachel Drane
Tags: Art, Practice, Motivation, Creativity, Lifehacks

I never thought I could draw.

I apparently had a knack for music and writing. But as far as I was concerned, all of the visual art genes were given to my sister.

She was often coming up with new ideas and new creations. I would watch as she would create murals and sketches. Seemingly coming forth from her as fully realized concepts.

I would then slink off to the next room to try and create something comparable.

However, I never felt like my efforts turned out well. So I eventually gave up. Surrendered the visual arts to my sister.

I left them alone for years. Knowing that anything I would create wouldn’t be good enough. Wouldn’t be worthy.

I felt pangs of jealousy or desire when I would see art — whether in a museum or in a friend’s notebook. Sometimes I would even voice my frustration, saying “I wish I could _____” (draw/paint/sculpt…)

And then a few years ago, on an impulsive whim, I bought a set of twelve Kimberly sketching pencils. A kit. The word brought with it encouragement. That all that I needed would be contained in the 9"x4" green box, which came with instructions explaining the scale of the pencils. Each grade of the graphite pencils. How a 4B would appear lighter on the page than a 2B.

I took one of the harder pencils and started drawing. After not much time, I examined my result. I sighed. Disappointed, I thought to myself “Just buying the tools doesn’t make you an artist.” And promptly put them away.

A year later, my partner at the time (a visual artist) suggested we have a drawing session together. A few minutes into our sketch-a-thon, he could see I was getting frustrated.

“I’m just not good at this,” I told him.

“You’re not giving yourself much of a chance,” he replied. “And you know if you draw a line you don’t like, you can always erase it and try again.”

What?! It didn’t have to be perfect from the beginning?

I went back to my sketch and tried out his piece of advice. If a curve didn’t come out as expected or if something was too dark, I would erase and try again. And it worked! I came out with a decent-looking quokka shape.

“That’s good! Now just keep adding.”

So I started to add more details, erasing here or there when things didn’t look right. I switched between graphite pencils for some shading.

At the end of the hour, I had a decent drawing of my favorite marsupial:

Quokka c. 2016 — Rachel Drane (me, obviously)

I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I had drawn something recognizable?! Something that was far from perfect, but that I loved all the same. I was giddy. Maybe I was an artist. Maybe I could draw.

Why was this such a revelatory experience for me? And why hadn’t I been creating all that time?!

We expect too much

[W]e get into [creative work] because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good... But your taste… is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. — Ira Glass

When we think about creating, a lot of us have this romanticized view of making “worthy” work. That it has to be unique. Well-crafted. Postable.

The idea of producing “unworthy” work can be scary. You could possibly look upon the work and see it as a physical manifestation of yourself and your own worth. I know that I’ve done (and sometimes still do) this. It could be threatening to one’s identity, even, especially if you consider yourself an artist or a creative.

But within that fear lies the deathtrap for creation. No matter how talented and accomplished you are, if you’re afraid of creating something “sub-par,” you’ll eventually stop creating. At least stop creating in any meaningful way.

Because, like Ira alludes to above, you have to create. If you want to create, you have to create. It’s in you. You just have to do.

And — more likely than not — this probably means lowering your expectations of the result. Having lower, or maybe no, expectations gives you free reign to create whatever you’d like. Allows you to have fun with it. Opens up new possibilities.

Maybe you get 20 sketches that you’re not crazy about. But there’s one aspect of one of the sketches that really sparks something inside of you. That one spark is worth it.

Even if that doesn’t happen for you, you’re creating. And creating even one sketch that you think is just so-so is better than not creating.

I remind myself, “Don’t let the perfect be the enemy of the good.” (Cribbed from Voltaire.) A twenty-minute walk that I do is better than the four-mile run that I don’t do. The imperfect book that gets published is better than the perfect book that never leaves my computer. The dinner party of take-out Chinese food is better than the elegant dinner that I never host. — Brené Brown

If you expect a masterpiece every time you think about sitting down to create, you’re going to get disappointed. Maybe even discouraged from coming back. Or even worse, you might just never sit down in the first place.

And then, you might start buying into the narrative that you’re not good enough. You’re just not that creative. Giving yourself license for that part of you to suffer.

Because if you yearn for creativity, if you wish you could create, you are creative. You just are. But it does mean adjusting your expectations before sitting down (or standing up).

Everyone creates differently

The sculpture is already complete within the marble block… It is already there, I just have to chisel away the superfluous material. — Michelangelo

I love this quote. And its sentiment has been echoed in the words of other artists throughout the centuries. Stephen King, for instance, refers to a story as being a fossil. It’s the author’s job to find and carefully extract that fossil.

But I’m not sold that everyone creates in this manner. And that’s okay!

I think what frustrated me when I was young was that I was seeing my sister’s process and then trying to emulate it. She seems to be able to have an idea for what she wants to draw or paint and then goes about achieving that. That’s not me.

It’s taken me years to realize that I need to experiment a lot more. That I need to play and put things down on paper. Yes, I go through a lot of materials (paint, pages, and canvases), but I’m able to work toward something. Something that I maybe hadn’t really planned. But something that brings me some spark of joy.

It’s every creative’s responsibility to discover how they are meant to create. This will take some trial and error, for sure. But I encourage you to not compare your process with anyone else. You can learn from others, sure. (In fact, I encourage you to!) But don’t seek to copy them precisely. Take what works for you, and leave the rest.

The number one rule is: You need to create. (Am I starting to sound like a broken record yet?) Something, anything! Release the expectation that it’ll be perfect. That it will be a “great” work. That it’ll get you any Instagram love. Because, in all likelihood, it won’t. At least not at first.

Release the expectation that you need to create in a certain way/time/style. Because everyone will be different.

Don’t sacrifice years with your sketching pencils/notebooks/paints packed up in boxes. Don’t trick yourself into thinking you’re not able to create.

Because, like I said before, if you want to create, you are a creative. And you owe it to yourself — and who knows, maybe even the world — to create.

Still feeling stuck?

Try something completely new. Break your routine. Doesn’t even have to be a “creative” endeavor.

Exercise. Endorphins are real. And can be real magical.

Sun lamp. This works better than caffeine for me sometimes. Especially in the winter, when I’m really lacking the motivation and energy to do anything.

Consume. Read a book about your art. Follow art accounts. Go to museums. Do this all with an open mindset. (As opposed to a comparative one)

Approach your endeavor as play. Somehow this perspective can instantly lower your expectations. And unleash some fun energy!

Connect. I know this is easier said than done. So if joining a writer’s group or art class seems like too much for you, maybe even just finding one person you know who is also trying to create. Doesn’t even have to be the same medium. See if you can support one another. Be accountabili-buddies!

Force it. The number one piece of advice given to writers is: Write every day. Even if you don’t feel like it. Even if you feel like you have nothing to say. Schedule it, if you have to. But no matter what, in the wise words of Nike and Shia LaBeouf: