Instagram is launching my career and also currently killing my creativity.
Thoughts on the currency of attention, and why I feel like I can't take a break (which means I absolutely should take a break).
We talk about hitting a wall, and boy have I hit it. That’s me up there, pancaked, face and limbs smushed like Wile E. Coyote (I just learned that’s how you spell that character’s name, go figure) after the road runner drops a brick wall in his path. Splat.
When I tell you that my dreams are coming true in bigger and more wild ways than I ever thought I could imagine for myself, I am not being hyperbolic: I have carved out a life where I magically get to write what I want, and when I share that work, people read it and see themselves in it, and we get to talk about how we’re feeling the same things. I get to make up events like dinner with strangers and people come. I host Zoom hang outs and people say "that sounds like a great way to spend a Tuesday” and they show up and spill their tender thoughts to other people across the continent, across the world. I have a book that is taking shape and making its way into your hands. I am in a place of recalibrating where this is all leading, where all of these things could go.
Wild things happen like seeing something I’ve written launch into the stratosphere of this weird Instagram world — within three minutes I know if a post is going to get 400 likes or 5000, it’s that quick. A Peloton instructor shares my work and I get texts from my friends who peloton (is this a verb?) saying how proud they are of me. Men on dates still call it my little Instagram thing or otherwise don’t read anything at all, saying it’s like reading my diary, saying, that’s some intense shit, man. Someone messages that she and her sister got tattoos of an orange after reading a poem I wrote about oranges. Someone from high school sends me a message and says looks like you’re doing super well! Every once in a while I get an offer from someone saying they want to be my sugar daddy (Daddy Dean just wants to talk, don’t get it twisted.) Instagram is the place where I’ve been able to sell tickets and sell out workshops and sign with an agent and be in talks with fancy publishers and make beautiful, kindred friends. Today might be the day when something crazy and unimaginable happens, because it’s happened enough times that sometimes it IS the day when something crazy happens. Lately, more than ever, I am comparing myself to others’ statistics and stacking my art against theirs (spoiler alert: in this game, theirs is always better, and I should quit immediately.) I am bullying myself into trying to come up with something quippy and shareable so it works with the platform (spoiler alert: writing for what works will kill your soul.) Getting caught up in all of this is currently eating me alive.
An artist’s job is quite simple: we are in the business of paying attention. We deal in the currency of being on the lookout for truth, as simple as the way someone reaches for another person’s hand. We go out into the world and pay attention, we allow ourselves to be moved by the tragedy and ache and strangeness and beauty and ordinary miracles that surround us at any given time, and we report back to the masses that there is something in this dumpster fire universe to fight for. We make altars to sit with anguish. We write liturgies honouring what it feels like to wake up next to someone. We lament and protest injustice, we write battle cries, eulogies, prayers, dissents. I’ve lost sight of what my job is because instead of paying attention to the world, I’ve been paying attention to how the internet world might be responding to me.
There is an added layer of irony to this whole “making art and sharing it on Instagram” thing: there is so much noise on social media, and it’s where I likewise go to disassociate (nothing feels more like fast-food garbage for the brain than mindlessly scrolling reels and realizing that you haven’t been present with your mind for 20-50 minutes.) And yet this platform is where I’ve been able to share my work that does hold so much meaning, and I hope that people get a lot of meaning out of; I want to make art that brings us all back to ourselves. It’s on Instagram that’s allowed me to get my art out to the masses, find my people, and make spaces where we connect with ourselves and connect to each other. I am asking you to pay attention to what matters around us by sharing work on this app where we go to stop paying attention to what matters around us. And here I am entrapped in the comparison / mindlessness / numbness that social media pummels us with.
Admitting that I’ve been struggling with this makes me feel slightly pathetic and small. My career is taking off, and I have never felt less centred in my work; I am bulldozed by imposter syndrome, self-doubt, poor discipline, procrastination, and negative self-talk because of all of this that I feel like a shell.
I know what my body, mind, and spirit need, which is to step back, take a break, rejoin the real world, write for the joy of writing, to write because I am compelled not because I need to stick with a consistent posting schedule and make the algorithm monster happy; I need to connect with my brain, stop disassociating by scrolling, and remember how to tell the truth about the simple, small things. Taking a breath also means (or feels like it means) not being able to promote my work, which is its own kind of terrifying. But if I’m going to have any kind of longevity in my career, and, more importantly, if I am going to continue to make art that is rooted in the deepest knowing of my being and from the truest place of my soul, I must, I must figure this out.
So, I’m taking a little breather. I am recalibrating, saying no to the rat race. I am realigning myself with my creative work, which is so much more entwined and alive than this business stuff. All of that sorts itself out when we are acting out of a place of wholeness and health.
Thank you for being a part of this community, and for supporting my work and my journey with all this crazy artist stuff — from sharing my work in your stories to sending my poems to your friends to signing up for workshops and events… especially thank you for supporting this Substack space, whether paid or not — being able to write in this medium has unlocked a new creative outlet for me (and paid subscribers are literally buying my groceries and allowing me to create more time to write; your $5/month is funding my creative work, it is no small thing.)
… and thank you for holding this vulnerable space with and for me.
xo jess.
Ways to connect this month
The Collective Conversation
…is this Tuesday, March 21st at 7pm EST - we’re talking about what seeds we’re sowing. Come connect with strangers about the things you’re working towards and what you’re working out. Register here. (free for Substack Founding members)
Poetry Club
is next Tuesday, March 28th at 7pm EST - we’re talking about waking what’s been dormant (free for paid Substack subscribers.)
Keeping me company
I went to a house concert in Vancouver last night to hear my friend Merival perform, who forever and always sets my soul on fire, and also discovered Troll Dolly, who’s been on repeat all weekend since.
I had an Essence Mapping session with my kindred internet friend Julia Lemke this week, and it rocked my world — her intuition, encouragement, and wisdom helped me reconnect to my heart and guts this week, and created a space for me to recognize the big, scary things that I’ve been avoiding looking in the eyes. I highly recommend Julia’s expertise and gentle spirit to guide you in connecting with yourself.
My friend Tristan Richards is hosting 30 Days of writing workshops for National Poetry month in a project called Unfold — if you’re looking for accountability, motivation, and community for National Poetry Month, check out this incredible offering. There JUST MIGHT BE a guest host you might already know popping in for a session… you never know….
Trying not to be trite, hoping not to be shallow or insincere in saying, so: I appreciate that you have put yourself out in the world in the way that you have put yourself out there, with all the nuances, the internal monologue shared out loud, the wrestling with demons, the facing into the wind, and all the rest. As I have sent to you before, it continues to be a blessing for me to see myself and your work and creativity and thus, I am thankful.
I’m so glad you’re learning what you need and making room for it. You’ve a gift and such a precious heart. Deep breaths. You’re going to make some space to breathe again and you’re going to find your way. I’m sure of it because it’s those who seek that find. xoxo