Creative Prompt: Lawn Care

Book Winner: Carla Sonheim generously donated a book to the winner of today’s drawing so I could keep the book–I was so pleased! But there were so many comments, I decided to give away my copy, too, so there are TWO winners!   Joy Moore and  Leah Boulet–Congratulations!

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Today we’re doing something different. If you are exploring your creativity, it’s always interesting to play with metaphors. Metaphors use one term to describe another, unrelated term. (Comparing a company to a ship and the financial futures as sailing on stormy seas, for example.) The kind of metaphor I’m talking about is an extended metaphor. (How the coming and going of tides affect the ship.)

Here’s your set-up: Phoenix is on the Sonoran Desert floor. We don’t have a lot of water to waste, and many people have xeriscaped yards–no grass, just crushed rock and desert plants. This is hard on some people who move here from someplace green and miss their lawns. Lawns really can’t be sustained in summer, so September is the time to replant your lawn, water it early in the morning, and hope for the best.


Creative Work: Think of your free time, and how you spend it. Are you fighting your inner geography and planting a lawn? Are you going with the ambient climate and keeping it simple? Report Back: Are you tempted to make changes in your creative time? Are you keeping it simple? Come back and tell us. If you have a blog, link back to it in your comment. (One link only).

Journal Keepers: Dive into your journals and work through a metaphor the lawn story suggests. For example,  Do you want to do work that is intense and may not fit the popular climate, or do you want to go with the flow and keep your work suited to an easy schedule? Or, do you want to create an environment that’s exotic for you or do you want to explore your nature as it is? Post a link to your journal page. (One link only, please).

Don’t want to post your blog? No pressure. It’s always interesting to see other people’s interpretations.

Quinn McDonald is a writer and a journal keeper.

Shame, Anger, and Getting Over It

My current “listen while I walk” book is Brené Brown’s book on shame, I Thought it Was Just Me (But it Isn’t). I’m nodding my head so much in agreement I look like a bobblehead walking down the street.

Doesn’t this look exactly like the naive rural girl right from the Main Street of Shame?

What had me nodding like a drummer in an 80s hair band is the way Brown links shame to excuses, blame to anger—and then breaks the links so you can breathe again and feel whole.

When I started to write my new book, The Inner Hero’s Art Journal: Conversations with Your Inner Critic, I thought it would be a big, inventive idea to ask some well-known people to contribute to it. Wouldn’t it be great, I thought, if art people could be introduced to some well-known people who have big inner critics and hear their

story? Wouldn’t it be even cooler if those well-known people tried some art projects in dealing with their inner critics? And then shared those stories? I was so excited. I did not for one nano-second think that maybe those well-known people would shrug it off.

In fact, when a friend said, “Sure, what’s the worst that could happen?” I said, “They’ll say ‘no’ and I’ll survive.” But that was not the worst that could happen. The worst that could happen is that not a single one of the four well-known people responded to my several emails, Twitter and Facebook contact, and a written-on-paper letter.

My first reaction was, “Well, Well-Known Person (WKP) #1 just had a serious health scare in her family; WKP #2 just bought a new house in California to create an environmental safe haven. WKP #3 is writing a book, and WKP #4 is on a book tour for her new book.”

My next reaction was, “Well, c’mon, most of these people have staff or at least an

The big, negative mind of the Inner Critic. (Pitt Pen on paper, © Quinn McDonald)

assistant, they can’t even take time to say ‘no’ or ‘thanks’?”

And my next reaction, was, yes, shame. Who was I to think that those people would think my idea was cool? My ideas wasn’t cool, it was dumb. And who am I to think that any WKP would care about appearing in a book that won’t sell as well as theirs, and give up their time when they won’t get paid.

There I saw it—just like Brené Brown said:  excuses, anger, blame and shame. Just like in the book. If I hadn’t been so involved with my shame, I would have laughed. But I was consumed by the pain of shame.

And then–and I’m telling you this because it’s so vividly real—one of my ceative ideas from the book came to mind.  I grabbed a Pitt Pen and a piece of watercolor paper and did the exercise. (No, you won’t find it here, it’s still in development for the book).

This whole shame thing is part of a conversation I’m having with the Inner Critic. The one that goes, “I’m not good enough for WKP to care about me, who am I to write a book?” I did the exercise, and I realized that while I would love to have those four WKP in the book, the books worth, ideas, and usefulness don’t depend on it. That’s my job. I was worrying about someone else’s job. Someone I couldn’t control. My job was to create exercises that worked. That resonated with readers. And I smiled, because I have a group of people whose Inner Critics I know because they’ve told me about them. They are also contributors.

And just like that, the shame steamed off. Of course I would have liked the four people I asked to respond. But they didn’t. And I don’t know why, and can’t guess. And I’m actually OK with that. I don’t have to approve their reasons, I have to move on. I have a really good book to write.

—Quinn McDonald is writing a book on he Inner Critic. She writes what she knows.