Songs for the Struggling Artist


If My Pen is Rockin,’ Don’t Come A-Knockin’

The bulk of my writing practice is dedicated to getting myself primed to write with the most focus I can manage. The practice is dedicated to finding a kind of flow. In an ideal session of writing, I will not stop the pen. I just go. And go. I’m sure that I look busy when I’m writing. I’m 100% sure I don’t look like I want to talk with anyone. And yet. And YET.

Several times in the last few months, I have had white men, both young and old, attempt to talk with me while I was writing. One said, after watching my pen moving rapidly across the page for a while, “Can I ask you a question?” I did not stop moving my pen and said “Not right now.” But even though I kept writing, of course, it very much interrupted my flow. It took me a while to pick my thought back up.

Another one, sitting next to me on a café bench at an adjacent table where I had been sitting and writing for 40 minutes, says, almost right into my ear, “Are you journaling?” And fury passed through me as I paused to turn and tell him “No” and attempted to resume.

Why on earth does someone think a woman busy on her own, clearly engaged with a task, wants to be interrupted? Never once has a woman interrupted me to ask an invasive question or start up a conversation. Nor has any man of color. Everyone but white dudes seems to respect my personal space and engagement.

The good news is that there is literally no activity that I am more protective of than writing. I guard my time to do it. I protect it with ferocity – so if some dude happens to intrude, I don’t fall into my usual patterns of being nice or compliant. If you interrupt me, I will not be polite.

This is also the gift of aging. I do not give any fucks about making men feel alright for being assholes. Not anymore.

But it continues to astonish me that even in personal space NYC, where we all more or less leave each other alone, dudes can take me being busy doing something as an invitation.

I suppose it is the activity equivalent of wearing headphones – and lord knows, despite sending a million signals that a woman doesn’t want to be bothered, she gets bothered anyway. I’m thinking of that article about how to talk to girls with headphones on. And the answer of course is – you shouldn’t. Unless you want to talk with a really pissed off woman.

Understanding that not all space is your space is a hard one for the white boys who are used to feeling welcome everywhere. But it is essential for not getting a pen through the eye one day when I’m really in flow and pissed off that you’ve disrupted it. To avoid a pen in the eye…no talking, dude. If you absolutely must talk to me, you can pass me a note. But I’d rather you didn’t.

man-31894_1280

Help me keep writing

Become my patron on Patreon.

Click HERE to Check out my Patreon Page

kaGh5_patreon_name_and_message*

This blog is also a Podcast. You can find it on iTunes. If you’d like to listen to me read a previous blog on Soundcloud, click here.screen-shot-2017-01-10-at-1-33-28-am

*

Writing on the internet is a little bit like busking on the street. This is the part where I pass the hat. If you liked the blog and would like to give a dollar (or more!) put it in the PayPal digital hat. https://www.paypal.me/strugglingartist



A Tale of Two Coffee Shops

When I go home for holidays, occasionally I get a chance to visit my old hometown’s local coffee shops. There weren’t any, really, when I was growing up – but there are several to choose from now. Usually I end up at the one closest to my mom’s house but sometimes I end up Downtown and I have to find a place to write down there. My first choice is generally a place that’s been around for a long while – all my old friends go there. I’ve had friends work there. It’s the cool coffee shop. I always run into people I know there. And it is always crowded.

This is why I don’t go there when I need a place to write. Crowdedness makes the hip coffee shop impossible for my purposes. Instead, I end up at a coffee shop that is remarkably un-cool. They play “relaxing” New Age music (with bird sounds.) The walls are painted with a color palate that suggests a beach house in North Carolina. There’s a fireplace.  Like the cool coffee shop, it has original artwork for sale. The paintings though, are very conservative. They are barns and cows done in a technique I can only describe as Grandma Style. There’s just something about this place that says who it is for. And most of the customers in the shop seem to know. I heard, while I was there, conversations about the old Christian Bookstore and stories on Fox News. All told, the place feels like it’s the Republican coffee shop in town.

In my home town – I clearly BELONG at the cool coffee shop and clearly do NOT belong at the Republican coffee shop. And yet I choose to write where I do not belong. Mostly because it’s less crowded but also because it’s an interesting anthropological opportunity. It leads me to interesting questions. How did this cafe culture develop? Are they marketing themselves on Republican listservs? And how conscious are the people who create these businesses of the culture they are creating around their business? Is the un-cool coffee shop trying to be cool?

These two coffee shops in the same town draw two very different crowds. And I’m fascinated by it. I now live in New York City and I frequent many different coffee shops. None of them have this sense of a unified personality. The people who go to them vary dramatically. In a world with so much diversity, coffee shops don’t seem to create so much culture around themselves. I don’t belong in any one of them – and I belong in all of them. City living creates a kind of contradiction in belonging/not-belonging. That is, I think, part of the appeal of city life. You never belong and always do. All at once.

coffee-692560_1280

This is stock footage of a coffee shop and represents none of the coffee shops mentioned in this blog post.

Become my patron on Patreon and, for as little as a dollar a post, you can make a big difference in this artist’s life.

Also – this blog is now a podcast that (at the moment) only my patrons will be able to hear. If you’d like to hear a podcast version, become a patron!

 kaGh5_patreon_name_and_message

Click HERE  to Check out my Patreon Page

*

Writing on the internet is a little bit like busking on the street. This is the part where I pass the hat. If you liked the blog and would like to give a dollar (or more!) put it in the PayPal digital hat.  https://www.paypal.me/strugglingartist

 



“It had been years since I really experienced fear.”

I write in cafes and while I mostly mind my own business, sometimes I can’t help but overhear my fellow coffee drinkers, especially when they’ve got their meetings turned up to CONFIDENT!

This particular meeting involved two men in super fashionable slick outfits. They were talking about buying businesses. I think. I wasn’t paying close attention. But then I heard the tall one in the leather jacket tell the other one a story about being in a shaking airplane and feeling afraid. It gave him an epiphany and he realized that it was the first time he’d experienced fear in years. He took this experience as a mandate to take more risks, to find ways to challenge himself. All very sensible. Of course.

I was struck, however, by the profound sense of privilege that there was in that statement about fear.

First, almost every woman I know experiences fear on a fairly regular basis, just walking home at night or riding the subway or walking down the street. I don’t know many women who could say they hadn’t experienced fear in years.

Second, if you’re a person of color in this country, your likelihood of being confronted by the police is so great, I cannot imagine how you could avoid experiencing fear often. Just walking home from work you could be shot for being black. You could be beat up in Alabama just for being Indian. That’s some fear.

Third, if you don’t have enough money, fear is an almost daily experience as well. “Will I make rent this month?” “What if that one gig falls through?” “What if I get sick? Will my family still be able to eat?”

In other words, the absence of fear is one of the great privileges, perhaps the greatest. And not one I’d considered before.

This tall, wealthy, white man in the café needs to FIND ways to experience fear. His life is so comfortable, he has to seek fear like a thrill. He has to court it because it is not ever-present in his daily life.

It occurs to me that maybe a guy like this is able to accomplish so much, not just due to the privileges afforded to him by wealth, race and gender, but due to the absence of fear. He can do a lot with the security that a life with nothing to fear in it gives him.

I thought, you know, it’s too bad this guy can’t step into the shoes of any of the people who regularly experience fear. It might save him some money in thrill seeking. Why pay for skydiving lessons when you can just walk down the street?

tandem-skydivers-603631_1280

 

 You can help diminish this writer’s fears by becoming a patron on Patreon.

 kaGh5_patreon_name_and_message

Click HERE  to Check out my Patreon Page




%d bloggers like this: