Tyler Hillis

I’m feeling a bit beat down today, creatively. I’m in one of those states where I’m ready to toss up my hands and yell to the cosmos, “fine, you win. I give up on this. I was never any good to begin with.”

We’ve all had those days. I’ve had plenty in the past, and I’m positive I’ll have plenty more in the future. But when you’re in the thick of it, it sure does suck.

So why am I here?

Well, it’s because of the artist’s perpetual villain: rejection – that sinister beast which artists flippantly refer to lurking in their path ahead – that fowl foe which is steeled against because its presence is inevitable – that cruel creature which is somehow worse than imagined, but kinder than was feared.

Worst of all, rejection is the fomenter of doubt. The absolute kryptonite of creativity. If doubt exists, all joy and motivation and lofty dreams begin to whither away. And like cancer, doubt seeps into other aspects of life, seeking more sources of life to squeeze from its host.

So I’m there. I’ve written previously that I’ve started writing in short story competitions as a way to practice and improve my craft. The first one I entered – a 500-word story competition – went extremely well. I made it to the final round and produced some great work. So, building off that ego-boost, I signed up for another – a broader, 2500-word story competition.

And I worked so damn hard on my submission. I pulled in my wife to help edit, as well as a long time friend and creative collaborator. I crafted a story I was so excited about that I started thinking about how to expand it and turn it into a full book. I even pitched this non-existent book to a publisher (talk about getting ahead of yourself).

And, as you may have guessed, it didn’t make it out of the first round.

My creative confidence nosedived. It led to those terrible questions in the head like: Was my first attempt a lucky undeserved run? Do I even know what the fuck I’m doing with words on a page? Is this book I’ve been working on for a year and a half a complete waste of time, and even more, a story that is barely coherent and something I should be ashamed of?

Like I said at the top, I’m just in one of those states.

This state has a close sibling that isn’t based in creativity (although, they influence one another plenty). Depression, in my mind, is the broader emotional state that is directly parallel to this creative funk. And, depression is something I think everyone deals with in some sense.

Now I know depression has a spectrum between the “minor annoyance” to the “debilitating.” I myself fluctuate on that spectrum quite a bit. But when I get in a creative funk, I can’t help relate it to when I get low.

When low, it’s hard to see anyway out. All things collapse in and you’re left in a dark and hopeless area.

One of the best coping mechanisms I’ve ever seen expressed was in a show called “Euphoria.” The main character is describing depression and says the following:

I had a therapist once who said that these states will wax and wane. Which gave my mother relief, because it meant that in the bad times, there would be good times. But it also gave her anxiety because it meant that in the good times, there would be bad times. It always confused me, because I didn't really know what it meant. But it did sound a lot calmer than the way I would describe it. Granted, I didn't realize until later what waxing and waning implied. That these feelings were fixed and constant and would never end for the rest of my life.

As the character states, there are a few ways to view this outlook: with relief, with anxiety, or with dread.

I’ve used this understanding to develop my own view: acceptance. It is not an emotional lens to view depression/creative lulls. It is, in fact, a very objective lens. One that says: you are going to feel awful, and then you will feel great, but then you will feel awful again, but also great again, and so on.

By accepting that this is just how it will be forever, I’m overcome with a sense of calm. If I can get through this low, a high waits for me on the other side.

And then, it’s a matter of pouncing on those highs when they come. Using that energy and focus and confidence to make strides in my work. I want to take ten steps forward while in my high, so that the one or two steps back during the low don’t hurt so bad.

But when you’re in the thick of it, and feel like quitting, this view is hard to muster. Luckily, I think I’m on my way out (for now – I will return soon enough).

I am still extremely proud of my submission. More so, the personalized feedback I received on it was glowing, and maybe it was more a matter of the other stories were just better (which I can accept) and not that mine was terrible.

If you’d like to read it, I’ve posted it on my site: Candy.

And finally, this isn’t an update post on the book, but that work is continuing. I still have a few tantalizing bites from my last volley of query letters, so hopefully I can provide a full update soon.