Ever since I started my online journey some sixteen or seventeen years ago I’ve felt a need to share. I’m not talking about every aspect of my life, I don’t, for example, share anything about my children, my family and so on. But I happily share aspects of my creative journey. Whether it’s what books I’m reading, my word count for the day or what projects I’m working on I love to write about it and document it either here on my blog, in my newsletters, on my (now closed) Patreon or, more often, on Instagram.
Sharing has helped me enormously over the years. It has allowed me to join in with a writing community and cheer each other on or console when writing days are not as productive. It has meant I’ve been honest and vulnerable, and, in doing so, it has meant I’ve discovered more about myself, the way I work and what I’m interested in as a writer.
It has encouraged me to take a writing thought I quickly typed out in an Instagram caption and to expand on it either on my blog (like this blog post after writing this caption), my newsletter, in essays or, as I’m currently working on, collating these thoughts and ideas into a non-fiction book proposal.
Sharing has been hugely beneficial for me.
But there have been times when I’ve felt silenced. Not, I hasten to add, by anyone other than myself. But in these modern times of needing a platform, of trying to play the algorithms to your advantage, or being encouraged to have beautiful photographs and video it’s very easy to get caught up in it: to question what you’re sharing, to wonder if your photograph is good enough, to obsess about how your grid looks.
If you scroll back far enough on this blog you’ll see I have advocated a curated feed. Think of your top nine photographs. Make sure they’re cohesive, attractive to the casual scroller, make them want to press that follow button.
And for a while this was a lovely thing to do. I was quite passionate about my Instagram feed. I loved having the wooden tones contrasting with the pale blue of a chicken egg or the soft pink of a flower plucked from my garden. That filled a creative side in me I didn’t know existed and I’m not criticising it at all.
But I feel now I’ve moved on. Because now when I want to share I found myself thinking - but I don’t have a good enough photograph to go with it. It’ll look out of place on my feed.
I wanted to share the story of autumn approaching with the tractor and combine harvester outside my office window and the hot air balloons appearing out of the mist one early morning breathing fire. But that wouldn’t look right in a grid of desk pictures. The video clips stayed on my iPhone taking up storage space. And the visions and stories tumbled around my head with nowhere to go, taking up mental and creative space. There was too much going on in my head. I needed to release it.
I just had to get over my need for a curated feed.
But this also got me thinking about something else. Perfectionism. Because what is a curated feed if it’s not a strive for the perfect look, the perfect window, a slice of our perfect creative life?
I’ve never seen myself as a perfectionist. My policy is get it done and crack on with the next task. That’s certainly true for a number of my writing projects. But when it comes to the more visual ones, or the ones in front of a bigger audience maybe perfectionism is more a part of me than I thought.
The more I thought about this the more I realised this goes against my ethos about confidence and creativity. And probably plays into my fears: fear of doing something different, fear of losing followers (I know *eyeroll*) and fear of being vulnerable, creative and authentic.
Which takes me back to my second paragraph above. Sharing allows me to be vulnerable and, through being vulnerable, I discover more about myself, more about my writing and more about the way I work. By curating a feed I am stifling some of that.
Don’t get me wrong - there are days when I long to create a reel with my key colours and my desk as the star. The point is I shouldn’t just limit myself to one or the other. Both can play a part in my creative life and help me grow, explore and have fun.
Are you wondering what direction to take with your creativity?
Are you struggling to define what you want to write about?
Do you often feel overwhelmed at all the things you could do but don’t know where to start?
The come and join my next Masterclass: Your Writing Notebook
A class about journaling for writers who are searching for: creative direction, content & project ideas & to understand their ambitions, goals & purpose.
Take action from the scribbles, paragraphs and notes in your writing notebook and become more productive, focused and energised.
About this event
In this Masterclass you'll learn about the power of journaling for writers and creatives. From facing the blank page to shaking off all the rules you may have read about or given yourself to making sense of what's going on in your head.
All writers and creatives are welcome.
