Commitment to the Creative Life

As a psychotherapist, one of the themes that often emerges in my work with patients is commitment. In dealing with relationship issues, for example, the depth of a commitment is tested by fears about the future, questions about trust and fidelity, and concerns about the tension between dependence and independence.

Likewise, patients with children struggle daily with the commitment to the rigors of parenthood: the emotional and financial responsibilties, the sharp changes in life-style, the balancing of one's needs with those of one's child.

For my creative patients, this same level of commitment is required. I believe the relationship a writer, director or actor has with his or her work is analogous to that of any committed relationship, with the same joys and frustrations, pleasures and demands. And, like all relationships, a commitment to one's creative endeavors needs to be nurtured, tended.

What does a commitment to your creative self entail? The same things as a commitment to a mate, a partner, or a child. The following come to mind:

Constancy. You've got to be in it for the long haul. You're not going anywhere. If you're a screenwriter, you'll be at the keyboard tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. If you're an actor, you'll be auditioning, taking classes, constantly building your of craft. This same level of commitment is necessary for directors, composers, designers. As Malcolm Gladwell reported in his recent book Outliers, true mastery requires 10,000 hours of consistent effort. 

Resilience. Things aren't always going to go well. There'll be good days and bad ones, great creative experiences and awful ones. The test of any committed relationship is your willingness to accept (and endure) the up's and down's, the disappointments