Persistence Pays Off

When I saw the call to apply to the Jack Straw Writers Program last fall, I almost didn’t apply. Why?

Because I’d applied every year for the last six years and I was tired of getting rejected. The closest I’d come was being wait-listed a few years back.

Then, I reminded myself what I tell my coaching clients: If you don't apply, it's a 100% guarantee you won't be accepted. If you do apply, your chances are better.

I opted for slightly better chances. Then, I rewrote my artist statement, edited the strongest writing sample from the memoir I’m currently writing and like every year, I mailed it by the deadline.

The twelve Jack Straw Writers receive voice/microphone training, recorded studio interviews, do a series of public readings in Seattle all year long, publish an anthology and are featured in SoundPages, the Jack Straw Literary Podcast series.

When the skinny letter from Jack Straw Productions arrived in my mailbox, I sighed. Everyone knows that if you win, it’s usually an email and that if it’s a letter, it’s usually a fat letter.

I opened it.

The first word after “Dear Gigi” was “Congratulations!” I’m now one of 12 writers chosen out of a pool of 93 applicants who will be in the Jack Straw Writers Program this year. This win was especially sweet because I’d included an excerpt from the memoir I’m now writing.

What did I learn? I learned what I teach my students: If you know an opportunity is the right match for you and the curator changes every year, it’s a numbers game. Chances are that one year, it’s all going to line up: The right curator for the right work sample out of the right pool of applicants.

This win also reminded me how important it is to receive recognition. I’ve had mostly rejections this year and this one acceptance has already fueled my writing. It’s also softened the rejections I’ve received since.

The next day, I received a rejection from the Hedgebrook Residency, one I’d love to attend. Their odds are even worse. They received 1500 applications for 40 slots. The silver lining: My rejection letter stated that my work “resonated with our reviewers.” They didn’t have to say that and I so appreciate they did.

You can bet I’ll apply to Hedgebrook every year from now on and one of these years, you never know. I might be one of those 40 writers.

So, I ask you: What’s an opportunity you know is the right match for you that you could “show up for”? It’s hard to keep showing up if they’ve already said “no.” But if you really want it, can you humble yourself and throw your name in the hat again and again? This year, it might be you.

Four keys to making creative progress

This past year, I embarked on writing a memoir and I learned how much more challenging it is to work on a big, multi-faceted project than something short. To write an essay, I just need to sprint. I have the whole essay in my head as I’m working on the beginning, middle and end. But a memoir with its many chapters and multiple re-writes is a full-length project that requires the stamina of the long distance runner. I can use my sprinting talent for individual chapters but to keep the whole project going, I must pace myself.

These four lifesaving actions have helped me this past year stay on task and on schedule. They’ve been:

• Name “it”

• Put “it” on a calendar

• Hire a midwife/coach/mentor

• Schedule weekly check-ins for creative support

Name “It”

In my 20 years as a writer, I’d written stories, essays, vignettes, monologues, poems, plays, solo performances, and then one day, the clouds parted, the shaft of sun descended and I knew I needed to write a memoir in book form. This realization was life changing. I re-arranged my work schedule to fit in 2-3 hours a day of writing and added other support. But naming it first was key.

Put “It” on a Calendar

Once I’d written for a couple of months, and collected all I’d created over the past 20 years I felt overwhelmed. I didn’t know which stories fit where or even how many stories there were. So, I sat down with a production manager, counted the number of stories I had or could write, and gave myself a goal of finishing a certain number each week. I put a reminder in my calendar every day. Then I gave myself a deadline for delivering this rough, unfinished draft to my next key support: my literary midwife.

The calendar turned out to be magical. Committing the project to paper made it happen. Even when I couldn’t quite keep up with my weekly schedule, the rough draft was done by the time the deadline arrived, as if a force greater than me was pushing it forward once I committed it to paper.

Hire a Midwife/Coach/Mentor

My literary coach is not a friend, although I like her and admire her writing. Her not being a friend is important for me because it makes our working relationship feel more professional and therefore less possible for me to wiggle out of my commitment. Also, I’m paying her which makes me take it seriously. I won’t pay for something and then not use it. It forces me to deliver the goods. I know she believes in me but I know she has high standards. So her voice in my ear as I write, keeps me writing and striving to do my best. Which is why after all this sustained effort I need something cuddly. This is where my two colleagues come in.

Schedule weekly check-ins

I scheduled short weekly check-ins with two artist friends. With these cohorts I can complain, stomp my feet, share my successes and burn off a lot of neurotic ramblings that I don’t want to submit my literary midwife to. My friends cheer me on, no matter what. Their cheering gets me back to the writing desk every day.

No Half Measures

The last episode of “Breaking Bad” that I watched before I quit for good was entitled “No Half Measures.” The character Mike warned Walter White about the sometimes fatal results of only going half way. “No half measures” is good advice for artists too, especially those of us who are skilled at the art of self-sabotage. We say we’re working on a creative project but are we really making the tough decisions that enable us to go “full out” in the career we want to have?

Going “full out” doesn't necessarily entail all-nighters and chronic exhaustion. What would you do differently if you supported your ambition all the way and not only halfway?

For example, I realized that if I’m going to get my next book finished I’m going to have to block out at least three hours every day to write and if I can’t squeeze that time in during the day, I’m going to have to get up at five am to write before I go to work.

To do this and be happy and well-rested, I need to say “no” to other commitments and time-wasters like “research” that can suck hours at a clip.

So, my new rules are: three-hour writing blocks, no “research” unless it’s quick and focused, and no social plans during the week that deplete my energy for writing.

I also had to give up binge-watching “Breaking Bad.” The show became so scary and violent and not conducive to the headspace I need to be in to write IF I’m going to go all out.

Most importantly, I’m saying “no” and disappointing some people. But I’d rather live with their disappointment than my own.

What would you do differently if you took your own ambition seriously? What if Mike from “Breaking Bad” scowled at you with his x-cop tough face and said: “No Half Measures. I mean it.”

What do you need in your life to support your ambition so your current project doesn’t die? What will you drop? What will you do to make the time to do the creative work that only you can do? What would today look like if you went all out? This week? This month? This year?

“No Half Measures” might mean you take a complete rest day today so that you’re freshened for tomorrow’s work.

What If You Weren't "Too Old"?

When I was eighteen, I admonished myself for being “too old” to become a ballet dancer. When I was twenty-eight, I did an informational interview with a producer at the public television station in Boston who told me I was “too old” to be a documentary filmmaker. (Because presumably I should have already won an Emmy!) In my worst moments now when I’m really “too old” for many more things, I revert back to my “too old” refrain. Too old to be skinny. Too old to be a concert pianist. To old to make it big.

This summer, when I asked myself what I would do if I wasn’t too old the answer was: take a dance class.

So, I signed up for a “Rock Your Body” class that I was positively too old for at the Northwest Dance Project which is taught by Franco Nieto, one of the company’s dancers. It’s a class that’s advertised as being “for absolute beginners” which is a lie unless these “beginners” are very young and very fit.

My neighbor friend Rene joined me on Sundays and for an hour we “rocked our bodies” including jazz, yoga, hip-hop, kickboxing, and the cha-cha. It seemed that Franco included every form of movement ever invented. Each week the class almost killed me. But I loved it because every Sunday night, my body felt so alive.

Sometimes with my clients and students, we play a game: “What if you weren’t too old?” Wanna try?

Quick. You’ve got three minutes to write down what you would do in your art or your marketing or your life if you weren’t too old? This is what some of them said:

“I’d write every day like a fiend.”

“I wouldn’t worry about offending anyone.”

“I’d write those emails and make those phone calls to get my work into the world.”

The idea that they weren’t too old put them in touch with urgency, in a productive way.

This weekend ask yourself: What would you do if you weren’t too old? You may find like my students and I did that you have more motivation to do the things you said you always wanted to do.

Put on your New York Face

I’ve been traveling since you last heard from me which I now realize involves three phases: pre-traveling, traveling, post-traveling. So, if I’m gone a week, the trip really takes three weeks if you add in preparing and de-briefing. This insight doesn’t mean I won’t travel again, it just means I need to be honest about how much time a trip really takes. One thing I love about traveling is that it brings out the anthropologist in me. I’m able to see my new surroundings in a way that the natives can’t and, when I return, I have a clearer vision of that place I call “home.”

In New York, I noticed the “New York Face.” Just about everyone I saw on those crowded streets wore one. It’s part scowl, part determined glare, part acceptance that life is hard so just suck it up.

At first I found the “New York Face” repellent. I wanted to look away from it. It isn’t a pretty face. But then, I thought, a New York Face is sometimes just what you need to accept the hard work, the waiting, the rejection and show up at the page or at the easel and work. The New York Face is not a complaining face. It accepts that the lines are long, the people pushy. The Face doesn’t let the noise, the garbage, the dog doo somebody stepped in and trailed up the sidewalk deter it.

If the line is long, you wait. If the shit is on the sidewalk, you do your best to avoid it and if you step in it, so be it. You keep going, you don’t turn back.

So how can you cultivate your ownNew York Face even if you don’t live there?

This morning I put on my New York Face and got to my writing while I was still in my nightgown. I didn’t empty the dishwasher like I know my husband likes me to do. Because if I took care of the dishes, my writing wouldn’t have gotten done. My New York Face said: screw the dishes, you write, right now.

This weekend, put on Your New York Face: remember it’s more determined than angry. It sets its gaze on the goal and it doesn’t care if it doesn’t look pretty. It does what needs to be done whether it’s unpleasant, boring, ugly or shitty.

Put on your New York Face and get to work on the art, on the proposal, on cleaning your desk, on taking care of the business you’ve been avoiding. Let your New York Face lead the way..

I’m invested in your success

The other day, I received an email from a colleague that began: “Because I’m invested in your success…” and then she went on to give me a very useful tip for how I could entice more people to read my blog. I was blown away more by her saying “I’m invested in your success” than the actual tip even though it was extremely useful.

Do you have people in your life who are invested in your success? How many people can you honestly name who you feel invested in?

Most of us artists and entrepreneurs work alone. We don’t like making our work by committee. It’s one of the reasons we hope we don’t ever have to get a “real job” ever again. But one of the nice things about a real job is that you have colleagues and maybe even a boss who’s “invested in your success.” If it’s a good job with a good company, you’re on a team where everyone is helping each other do their best work.

How can you build these partnerships and teams into your life so that you can all help each other move forward?

I have several groups that I participate in: One is a group of four solo business owners who meet once a month with a leader who we pay, another is a group of six women who meet once a month without a leader and a third group is my writing group that meets haphazardly to critique and support each other as writers. I also have a dozen individuals who I consider close colleagues.

My career would not be the same without these groups and these people. I have such fondness for each of them. If I receive a request from any of them, I make it a priority to help them unless I am completely swamped. Why do I do this? It’s because I’m invested in their success. When they succeed I get goose bumps! When I succeed, they’re the first people I want to tell.

This weekend, ask yourself: whose success are you invested in? Who in your circle is invested in your success? If not enough names pop to mind, it might be time to join a peer group or a group led by a professional coach.

Maybe it's time to write a note of appreciation or encouragement to somebody whose success would give you goose bumps.

Ask Gigi: What if the grant is for $5,000 but you really need $10,000?

Welcome to this new feature of my blog where I answer your questions about funding and marketing for artists and writers. Send me your questions and I will choose the best one and answer regularly on the blog. Kharis Kennedy wrote with these two related questions about grant application budgets:

Dear Gigi,

The grant is for $2,500 but my project will cost about double.  Does this look bad to the granting agency?  Is there a standard way to write the budget such that the remainder cost difference is acknowledged/addressed?  

You must address the fact that the project will cost double. Look at it from the agency’s point of view: They don’t want to give you $2500 if you have no plans for how to fund the rest of the project. Then, their hard-earned money would be wasted. You need a solid plan for how you will cover the rest of the budget. Have you already earned that money through your own fundraising? (That would be best!) Will you donate your own funds? Will you do a fundraiser and if so, how can you prove to the granting agency that you have the chops to raise that amount of money? How many followers do you have? What’s your success with other fundraising? Get the idea? Put yourself in the funder’s shoes and you will quickly see that you have to prove to them that you’re a safe bet: you will get the project done, be a good steward of their funding, and you have a solid plan for how to raise the other money OR better yet, you’ve already raised it.

What if a grant was for $10K but I only needed 5K?  Obviously I wouldn't write up a fake budget and would just leave my budget at 5K but do granting agencies ever award less (i.e., just the 5K needed for the project) or do they award 10K no matter what?

First make sure that you really couldn’t expand your project and use the full amount. Have you included every possible expense that would be covered by the grant? Are you dreaming big enough? If you are, then call the agency and ask them. You want to make sure that a smaller request won’t mean a demerit for your project. It may actually make your project more attractive because then they’ll have money leftover to fund something else. But first see if you could use the full amount and second ask them if it won’t be seen as a negative.

The Artist Statement that Opened Doors

When Carmen Mariscal contacted me from France last year about artist coaching she wanted help writing a grant application. Soon, we realized that before working on the application, she needed to revamp and write a new artist statement. That statement took months. The process included my interviewing her via Skype from her home in Paris, then she did several writing assignments, then I edited, then she re-wrote. It was like making a piece of art!

I kept noticing when we talked or when she answered my incessant questions in writing, all the stories Carmen had about her work. It felt right that her artist statement contain these stories especially the one about an accident she’d had that changed her life and a family heirloom given to her by her great grandmother. I also noticed that she made many different kinds of work where objects were “trapped” or “preserved.” The vitrines she refers to below are reminiscent of much of her work.

I was delighted to receive this email from Carmen last week about how the artist statement opened this door for her:

Thanks to the artist statement that I wrote with your wonderful coaching I got an interview at a Museum in Brussels. The space is perfect for my work and that is because before giving me the interview the curator learned about my car accident and my great grandmother's wedding dress. She had previously curated a Frida Kahlo exhibition and the museum where she works now is full of old objects in vitrines. Without the statement she would have never given me an interview and we are talking about the possibility of me doing site-specific work in the middle of the museum's collection!

I tell this story so that it helps you when you feel doubt about all the hard work that goes into writing a statement. At my lowest moments, I think to myself: Why am I doing this? Nobody’s ever gonna read it anyway.

Well, the truth is that people do read statements. And even just the writing of the statement strengthened Carmen’s sense of her work and gave her a clearer picture of how all the threads of her life and work weaved together.

Try this over the weekend: tell a life story that changed you as an artist or write about an object that holds great meaning for your work. These stories may inform your new, revamped statement.

To prepare your artist talk: watch other performers

The first step in preparing a kick-ass artist talk is a passive one: watch other performers and make a list of what you like (and even don’t like) about what you see.

Notice how the street performer owns his corner of the sidewalk, notice how Jerry Seinfeld (and other comics) uses his body, attend other artist talks and make notes about you’d like to emulate. Maybe your list will include:

• Maintained good eye contact

• Showed captivating images

• Opened with a funny and relevant story

• Closed with a bang

• Knew how to handle a Q&A session

• Used a live demonstration

Learn more about how you can incorporate your favorite qualities into your next artist talk in this teleseminar.