When I decided to launch this Substack (about a week ago, having considered it for a few months), I had an amazing few days of creativity. I slept badly because of how alive my mind was. Anything that took me away from the setup and design of this newsletter incurred my bitter resentment, and my focus was such that I wouldn’t even hear people speaking to me when I was working on it. The flow state had captured me completely - I designed the logo, decided on fonts and colours and created illustrations, crafted welcome emails for new subscribers, wrote my about page (just as uncomfortable as writing a cover letter) and researched the best ways to run this newsletter. Best of all, I felt excited. I knew that I had something, that even if this goes nowhere and nobody reads a word, I will have done something courageous and nurturing for myself. Then I opened up the draft that was to become my first post.
Since then, I have procrastinated actually writing anything by: creating twelve new illustrations for posts I haven’t written yet, reading no less than six books in three days, baking one batch of delightfully gooey brownies (recipe here, I recommend conventional 180 because fan just doesn’t work the same), singing with my choir in a pub and attending a networking event at the News building next to the Shard. Those last two weren’t really procrastination, just cool things I’ve been up to.
My point is, why is it so easy to get started, but so scary to actually start? Why does a blank page hold so much terror for me? Why is it easier to simply say nothing at all than to speak?
Some things my brain said to me about this newsletter:
You have absolutely nothing to say
Nothing you will say is new or revolutionary so no one will find value in it
No one will listen or care
You’re not special
Psychological issues? Yes, sir. I have always held myself to cripplingly high standards - a hangover from thriving off academic validation at school, and believing that the more perfect I am, the more worthy of love I will be.
But I am a mess. I’m a wonderful mess. I’m SO imperfect, and thank goodness for that. Learning that and learning into it is a process, and one I hope to explore further in Airhead. Among lots of other brilliant, groundbreaking things, naturally.
Of course, if everybody listened to the mean voices in their head, most of the art, literature and music we see today would not exist. And it’s boring to have this kind of complex; self-doubt is a moment that always irritates the heck out of me in films and books - how often have I been there, screeching at the heroine, saying ‘you can do it, you imbecile! Just try!’ Just try. Just start. You’re the most important person in your universe, so find the thing that challenges and thrills you, and give it a go. What is the worst that could happen? I’m afraid of failure, of course I am, but I also understand what without failure there can be no growth.
So here are things that I want from our tucked-away corner of the internet:
A safe space
A refuge from the overwhelming depressingness of the internet and social media
A place where exciting, dynamic and passionate conversations and thoughts are started
Somewhere where I can embrace myself for everything that I am
Where somebody reading this might see that their experience is shared, and therefore feel less alone.
Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this post, please do subscribe or share with a friend - it’s how more heads join us in the clouds!
Yes to all of this!