A dear blog reader said I ought to write an eBook. 

It just so happens… Hee hee, little does she know me. 

Since Take the Leap has been my most popular blog post, and many have asked me to write more on the subject, I have (am) writing this little eBook.

You know the story: 

“The highest treason a crab can commit is to make a leap from the rim of the bucket.” –Steven Pressfield.

In May of 1996, months after receiving the Nobel Prize in Literature, Seamus Heaney spoke to the graduating class at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and delivered an extraordinary speech.

“Getting started, keeping going, getting started again — in art and in life, it seems to me this is the essential rhythm not only of achievement but of survival.”

I’m not asking you to go out and preach. Neither am I asking you to protest. Instead, I’m speaking to your creative self.

Elizabeth Gilbert said it poetically, “

“The Universe buries strange jewels within us all and then stands back to see if we can find them. The hunt is to uncover those jewels—that’s creative living.”

 –Elizabeth Gilbert

Introduction

Good advice is often simply Giving Permission.

I am, therefore, giving you good advice, “Jump!” 

Fishermen leave a lid off their bucket of live crabs, for they know if one tries to escape, the others will pull him back in.

There is a similar phenomenon with people. If one tries to escape the everyday grind, what happens?

“You’ll starve.”

How many times have we heard that?

“Yeah, sure, many are called; few are chosen.”

Well, thanks a lot.

It could be envy, jealousy, resentment, spite, conspiracy, or competitiveness from the others who choose not to jump.  

Whatever the reason, the result is the same, the one trying to escape feels pulled back into the bucket.

Richard Bach, in Illusions, tells the story of a little river creature holding fast to the rocks. One day he has an epiphany, “The current knows where it is going. If I turn loose, I will be carried wild and free”. But the others, fearing the current, say, “Hold on. That current you so revere will dash you on the rocks.” 

But the little one trusts, turns loose, and true to form; the turbulence does at first dash him against the rocks, but soon he begins to float.

And the ones downstream, seeing him float past, say,” Look, he flies. It’s a miracle.”

The one who reaches rock star status, so say the masses, is the exception, the special person. 

They are a celebrity and are revered. 

Meanwhile, the ones in the bucket get a job and do the everyday things expected of them. Soon the lofty voice that once sang to them fades until it becomes a dim memory.

But wait, there is a glimmer—you’re miserable. That tells you something. You have an ache for something more. 

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

—Anais Nin

 How many people have been told they have no talent and would never make it?

I don’t know, but I once heard John Travolta respond to such a statement with a mutter, “They’re nuts,” and went on.

The point is, you do your work anyway—even if it’s terrible. You show up. You put your butt on the chair.

Although I want this little booklet to address any creative effort, I will focus on writing, for that is my forte. And I believe strongly in “Morning pages,” as Julia Cameron writes of in The Artist’s Way. Write out whatever is bothering you, your crappy stuff, your whining, complaining, gripes, or wants. 

Morning Pages sweep your house, so the Muse doesn’t soil her gown when she makes her entrance. 

Many celebrated writers have championed the creative benefits of keeping a diary.

No one has put the diary to more impressive practical use than John Steinbeck (February 27, 1902–December 20, 1968).

In the spring of 1938, he embarked on the most intense writing experience of his life.

His work would become the 1939 masterwork The Grapes of Wrath, which earned Steinbeck the Pulitzer Prize in 1940.

Alongside the novel, Steinbeck began keeping a diary or journal.

Working Days: The Journals of The Grapes of Wrath (public library)

He was determined to write in his journal ever single work day. In it this extraordinary writer tussles with excruciating self-doubt, but plows forth anyway,which gives testament to the act of SHOWING UP.

“I only hope it is some good,” Steinbeck wrote,

“I have very grave doubts sometimes. I don’t want this to seem hurried. It must be just as slow and measured as the rest but I am sure of one thing — it isn’t the great book I had hoped it would be. It’s just a run-of-the-mill book. And the awful thing is that it is absolutely the best I can do. Now to work on it.”

Run of the mill? I think not.

Besides earning the two highest accolades in literature, The Grapes of Wrath remained atop the bestseller list for almost a year after it was published, sold nearly 430,000 copies in its first year alone, and remains one of the most read and celebrated novels ever written.

I can’t tell you how to write the Great American Novel, but I can motivate you to grab a pen and paper or a computer and SHOW UP.

Write whether anyone is reading it or not. The process will up your spirit, infuriate you, and give you an understanding of why you’re here.

One author wrote a novel with pen and paper on the edge of his swimming pool while standing in the water—lucky dog. I bet he looked like a Shar-Pei when he climbed out. 

You can join the ranks of those who have touched our spirits, made us feel, laugh, cry, and who have, yes, taught us something. We loved them, traveled the road with them, and re-read them.

And I can set your feet on the trail toward a writing life by listing the ten very best books on writing.

Those books were written by the masters. Read them all.

But first, read mine.

Oh, you’re here.

Thank you.

I appreciate you.

Jo

1

Resistance

Are you a writer who doesn’t write, a painter that doesn’t paint, or an entrepreneur who doesn’t begin a venture?

Have you ever decided to start a diet or spiritual practice? You may want to sponsor a child in some far-off land, or you want to run for office. Maybe you wanted to get married, have a child, or campaign for world peace.

The awakening person must be ruthless with themselves and others who sabotage their efforts. You know how often “The starving artist” has been played? Me neither.

Procrastination? Well, what can I say? You know about that. There are always distractions, ill health, getting into trouble, and soap operas—nothing like dad getting drunk, mom getting sick, and junior showing up with a swastika tattoo to set a family spinning out of control.

Steven Pressfield calls this resistance time “Wandering in the wilderness.” Yes, I know, from the bucket to the wilderness, strange analogies, but we aren’t crabs. We’re adventurers, pioneers, and dreamers, yet we wander lost and alone sometimes—until we admit what we really want.

It’s tough, but remember, if it was easy everyone would do it.

John Kennedy said. “We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.”

While in the wilderness, some drink too much, overeat, take drugs, or become addicted to some activity that gives them some reprieve from the lonesome wandering.

 Is it the other crabs in the bucket stopping you or your own resistance?

Resistance means not doing the work you were meant to do.

Don’t be discouraged. It’s human nature to ignore the first call. Didn’t Neo in The Matrix deny that he was The One to save humankind?

Even the Oracle told him he was not.

It didn’t matter. He did it anyway.

---

“I have put my heart out to be shot at.”—

JRR. Tolkien

2

Do It Anyway

So, you have found that there is life outside the bucket.

You have made the jump.

What now?

You have doubts. That’s what you do.

You wander for a while. 

Maybe you don’t know your calling or believe it isn’t possible for you. 

So, you have found that there is life outside the bucket.

You have made the jump.

What now?

You have doubts. That’s what you do.

You wander for a while. 

Maybe you don’t know your calling or believe it isn’t possible for you. 

Procrastination? Well, what can I say? You know about that. There are always distractions, ill health, getting into trouble, and soap operas—nothing like dad getting drunk, mom getting sick, and junior showing up with a swastika tattoo to set a family spinning out of control.

You are “Wandering in the Wilderness.” (Steven Pressfield’s phrase). 

Yes, I know, from the bucket to the wilderness. A crab should aim for the sea, but you, my dears, aren’t crabs. You are flesh and blood and boney hairy creatures—well, not hairy enough to protect you from the elements, so you run into the wilderness. We are, after all, adventurers, pioneers, and dreamers. 

Yet we sometimes wander lost and alone until we admit what we want.

While in the wilderness, some drink too much, overeat, take drugs, or become addicted to some activity that gives them some reprieve from their lonesome wandering. 

Have you ever decided to start a diet or spiritual practice? Maybe you wanted to sponsor a child in some far-off land or run for office. Perhaps you wished to get married, have a child, or campaign for world peace.

Many wander in the wilderness for years, maybe a lifetime, before finding their giant Sequoia.

Okay, here comes the bad stuff: 

Don’t you sometimes wonder how an author seamlessly blends structure, setting, character, genre, and dialogue into their story, so you don’t even notice how much you learned about the protagonist in one sentence? 

Don’t you see a pianist who plays ten times better than you?

Haven’t you seen a painter who throws the color with such abandonment you are stupefied?

We know it when we see it, but doing it? That’s another matter.

 If you are at the place where you hear lofty words in your head. You see the story, you have good taste, you recognize good writing when you see it, good music when you hear it, or a painting out of the world when you view it, but your work sings offs-key, chances are, you’re in the GAP.

The Gap means you’re here and want to be there.

To be continued.