I see it in my editing room. I feel it in my writing space. And I’ll bet you see it in your office, conference room, studio, bullpen—or wherever you’re supposed to do your creating: Sometimes the work just isn’t working. The ideas aren’t happening, you (or the people you’re working with) are frustrated and getting more miserable by the minute. So what happens? We sit longer, flog the footage, rewrite for the umpteenth time, re-cut the piece again, and then stare at it a little longer, as if our creativity is some vast staring contest we can will into submission.
Is there another answer?
Get a life.
We’re all constantly searching for new and original ideas. A lot of the work we see, whether it’s in commercials, movies, music, theater or fine art, seems stale, uninspired, and homogenized—products of creators referencing each other rather than the world at large. So, how do you create with a unique point of view that sets you apart from everybody else? Ironically, I believe, it’s by stepping away from the work, getting out of the room, and expanding your own interests and influences, so that you can include your life in the creative process.
Of course, your place of work can be stimulating, comfortable, and even fun. In the room where I edit, my walls are covered with whimsical circus posters. There’s a couch, warm wood-stained bookshelf and coffee table, and a ton of the latest computer editing equipment. I like being there. I like the work. I like the people I work with, and I choose to be hired by people who are fun to share that room with.
But it’s the last place in the world in which I want to spend a lot of time.
Walk away. Get out of there. Go have an experience. See theater, kiss your kids, listen to music, cook dinner, be a social activist, phone your grandmother, take a picture, research world events, go to a class, get away from the work. It’ll be there when you get back.
This sounds obvious, but it’s really hard to do, isn’t it? Until it’s right, we’re supposed to chain ourselves to the work, spew version after version, numb ourselves into believing it’s getting better.
Guess what? It’s not. It’s probably getting worse. It’s probably moving further and further away from that great little germ of an idea you had, as you over-think it and second-guess it into something that looks like everything else on the air or in theaters today. Get out of there. Now!
Are you nuts? Walk away at 6:30 p.m. to have dinner with my family? Sure, my client/creative director/boss/collaborators will love that! I’ll be perceived as uncommitted, undisciplined, unwilling to go the extra mile to be accommodating. Won’t there be repercussions?
Don’t mistake availability for commitment, or hours logged for discipline. It is absolutely essential that you, a creative individual, get some breathing room in order to do your best work. Why spend another couple hours in your room, among those four walls, when you can go out and have a grand, stimulating, inspiring evening and come back ready to do great work the next day? Armed with your expanded life as a creative reference point, you will hit upon the idea or solution that seemed so elusive just hours ago. And everyone who depends on you, including your audience, will thank you.
Yeah, I know. Deadlines. But here’s the deal: Deadlines make things easier. Everyone, including you, has to make decisions right now, and things always seem to work out, don’t they? There are deadlines, but it seems more often that creative problems arise when the schedule allows for a reasonable amount of time to contemplate the work.
I know I’m a better editor (or writer/director/actor, or whatever else I’m trying to do) because of my outside life than I would be if I were available to sit in that room 24/7. Besides spending time with my family, I like to go to rehearsal with my theater company. We get on our feet, clear out the cobwebs, improvise and play, and before I know it I feel renewed and energized, ready to retackle whatever problem I left that day. I also like to write, make short movies, talk politics with friends, work at my kid’s school, and pursue other avenues of expression. If I’m working out of town, I like to explore what that city has to offer: What’s happening in local theaters and museums, where can you take a great walk, who’s got the best pie?
We all need perspective. It’s easy to get convinced that the public cares how many Clios we’ve won, or Gold Lions, or what our title is, or that we put in a 70-hour week. To create something entertaining, accessible and intriguing, we must get out from within our four walls and gain some perspective. So if your only reference points for your work in commercials are other commercials, if you’re on Version 52 that looks a lot like Version 25, if you can’t remember the last time you had dinner at home—step back. And get a life.
