The Arrival

I didn’t wake up one day and decide that I wanted to be a poet. Until recently, it was the furthest thing from my mind. I have dedicated over 20 years of my life to a career in the visual arts. I’ve had my work displayed in museums, purchased for the private collections of fortune 500 companies, and have even won numerous grants to further my artistic explorations. So why give all that up?

There aren’t very many people who know that I write. Most of my friends and family don’t have a clue. I’ve always been very private about this aspect of my life. I’m not sure why. I use the term – writer – with a grain of salt. I don’t have any published works, and I have no serious writing projects planned. These are the things that earn you the title of Writer. Still, I continue and continue to write. Poetry. Short stories. Essays. All in stacks of notebooks on a shelf. Collecting dust. 

So how is it that after so many years, I arrived at the notion that my life’s purpose is to be a writer?

The Pilgrimage to Mastery

Two words – Robert Greene. You may have heard of him. He is the author of The 48 Laws of Power, The Laws of Human Nature, and (my personal favorite) Mastery. What led me to his books in the first place was a deep reflection on where my life as a visual artist was heading. For months (if not years) art seemed to be sucking my soul out. That sounds dramatic. But a source of enjoyment and relaxation for so many, had turned into an albatross around my neck. I was forcing myself to work, trying to create something that wasn’t there. The work was hollow and flimsy and quite literally, a mess. So, I stopped working on art. I could push out one or two pieces a month, but that was only so I could say, “Look! I’m creating!” I didn’t buy it. And neither was anyone else.

I had seen Robert Greene’s books years ago. I glanced at them and even read a bit of The 48 Laws of Power. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind at that time. I found the book to be arrogant and a roadmap to making me a terrible person. I was wrong and decided to give them another try.

This time, I started reading his books with an open mind. Things started to make sense and I felt like I hit the jackpot! I thought, “these books are going to change my life and rekindle my art career from its dying embers.” But they didn’t. At least, not at first.

It wasn’t until I watched this video on YouTube that my wheels started turning. I wanted to know if art was really my life’s purpose or was it in fact, writing. I pulled out my copy of Mastery and began reading the first chapter – Discover Your Calling: The Life’s Task. 

One of the great aspects of Robert’s books is he gives you exercises to guide you to finding your true self and power. So often you see these types of exercises in self help books and honestly, I usually skip them. This time I was determined to find my life’s task. As suggested, I dug into my past, into my childhood, to look for the little signs that pointed to what my life’s task could be. With each practice, I always returned to writing and to a lesser extent, photography. 

I had the answer, but still I fought against it. 

For 20 years I’d dedicated my life to being a visual artist. Trying to grow myself in the field and manifest something great. But I never felt driven. It grew to a point where I had invested so much time already, that I couldn’t stop now. It’s too late to start over.

The lies we tell ourselves. 

The Truth Shall Set You Free

At around 8 or 9 years old I discovered the world of poetry. My older sister had a friend named Bobby that would come over in a group to play Dungeons & Dragons. I guess you could say he was my first real crush. Every time I saw him, he always had a black spiral notebook. I wanted that notebook. To see what his world was like. One day, he left that notebook at our house, and I took it, hiding it under my bed. When I knew I was completely alone I started to flip through those spiraled pages. It was filled with Bobby’s poetry. I was mesmerized. I wanted to weave words, too. I started to write my own poetry after that. I’m in my mid-40s now, and I have never stopped writing. 

The problem is that I’ve always kept my words to myself. All my poetry, short stories, essays, musings, everything! Perhaps it’s because it’s the rawest form of myself. The honest and vulnerable Liz living inside of those pages. Or it’s the fear of allowing strangers to know who you really are. But that’s also the beauty. That’s how you know you’re on the right track. Even if it scares the shit out of you. Even in knowing all of this, still, I hid behind my own cowardice.

It took the blunt words of a Dutchman (are there any other kind?) to finally slap me in the face. To tell me the reality of my situation, that if I didn’t get my head out of my ass I was going to fail at everything. There would be no turning back after that. By instinct, I wanted to break down or lash out. Instead, I tamed my own ego and realized how right he was. He helped set me free.

Reflections of the Way Life Used to Be

Giving up my visual arts career is not something I plan on doing. Photography, collage and drawing have become an integral part of my life. Their prominence, however’s moved to a secondary position. This is a necessary action for me to begin living a more purposeful life as a writer. 

While this all might sound fanciful, even Geoffrey Chaucer in the 13th century knew, “For better than never is late; never to succeed would be too long a period.”  I have waited too long already. Nihil timendum est (fear nothing.)