Make Room for Your Genius.

Confession: I have a toxic relationship with doing things the “right way.” Can you relate?

At the beginning of any new creative venture, I tend to spend a lot of time researching best practices. 

I love learning how successful people in the field I’m exploring got to where they are today. 

While my research typically yields great starting points, helpful advice, and occasionally mentors, I’ve noticed that sometimes it also leaves me feeling paralyzed in my creativity. Thought leadership and shared knowledge are certainly valuable resources, but I’ve learned that sometimes “tried and true” paths can muddy the waters of your own. 

As counter-intuitive as it sounds, the “right” way of doing things can become a burden. Especially when those methods begin to hold more weight than your own natural, creative instincts.  

I ran into this problem my first semester of grad school. I was fairly new to screenwriting and had only written about three scripts at the time, yet I found myself in a classroom full of people with far more experience than I had. One of our first assignments was to draft the first act of a movie. Needless to say, my very first workshop was brutal. Desperately wanting to improve, I scrambled to soak up all the screenplay “know-how” I could from my peers.

I digested everyone’s notes and painstakingly applied each thought and idea to my script. I wholeheartedly believed that after making all of those tweaks, I’d walk out of that classroom with a masterpiece, but by the end of that semester, I was left with what can only be described as a Frankenstein monster -a script I hardly recognized as my own and one I no longer had any interest in writing. 

In the aftermath, I realized my folly. I’d let the (very subjective) opinions of so many different people with varying backgrounds and perspectives override my initial artistic instincts. While it remains true that years of experience and tools had granted my peers a certain level of “know-how”, they were also deeply ill-equipped to produce the particular piece I had in mind. My work and its execution was mine alone to discover and create. Despite my level of skill, I was the only person capable of telling my story.

That experience taught me a valuable lesson that stuck with me: 

Feedback and shared knowledge are gifts. They open you up to questions you might never ask yourself in a vacuum and most times, they push you to be better. But not all feedback is created equal and some “gifts” are meant to be returned. There is wisdom in seeking feedback and counsel, but the questions raised should always leave room for your own empowered choices.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with following the rules. Rules keep us safe and secure, and  methodically guide us to results, but rules are also formulaic. While they are known to drive results, they also always lead to expected ends (and expected will never be innovative.)

Creativity and ingenuity are all about exploration and there are no rules when it comes to discovery.

Although there is always a risk when we break the rules, following a trusted path presents a risk as well. You risk the space to experiment, to play, and to build. There is nothing to discover if your execution is built on someone else’s blueprint. 

When embarking on a new creative venture, don’t be afraid to carve your own path. You have permission to make your mark. If you find yourself unsure of what you’re creating at the outset, it’s okay. Trust that you have what it takes to figure it out. Trust (as cheesy as it sounds) “the journey.” 

Make room for discovering what is already alive and at work within you. 

Remember to make room for your own genius.