I am going to come right out and say it… I did not read Eat Pray Love. I can’t tell you why exactly, but something about Elizabeth Gilbert’s popular book, its movie adaptation, and the hype around it all really rubbed me the wrong way. I do eat, pray, and love. I also read books, but I couldn’t get myself to pick that one up. I don’t know if it was the colorful cover (it probably was), or the key word “fear” in the subtitle, but something caused me to buy her new book, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear. I bought the hardcover, in fact. As soon as I started to read it, I was struck by the self-deprecating thought, “Shit. Elizabeth Gilbert is writing about fear much more articulately than I ever will. I should probably stop writing all together.” I was also struck by the thought, “Shit. I was supposed to write this book, not her! It should have been me!” Funny, not just because both of these lines of thinking are absurd, but also because, fast-forward a few page turns, and Gilbert spoke directly to those thoughts. Damn. “Okay, I guess I will keep reading then,” I told myself. …And then I proceeded to put the book down for two months, with a mark at page 91. Perhaps not so coincidentally, I also didn’t publish any of my own writing in those two months. I guess I should say thank you, Elizabeth Gilbert, for the massive blow to my ego. You broke me down, but when I picked up the book again this week, you managed to build me back up. I know no one can see me, so I want you to know that I am shaking my fist aggressively and looking skyward, thinking to myself, “damn this league of female truth-teller/self-help-y writers which I have found myself a part of!” In order to set a framework for her book on creative living and fear, Gilbert makes a valiant attempt to convince all readers that they are creative, whether or not they are an artist by trade. This is something I too believe, so I didn’t take too much convincing, and I have to wonder if anyone who selects this book for themselves would take much convincing. Still, she does so beautifully:

So this, I believe, is the central question upon which all creative living hinges: Do you have the courage to bring forth the treasures that are hidden within you? … The hunt to uncover those jewels – that’s creative living. The courage to go on that hunt in the first place – that’s what separates a mundane existence from a more enchanted one.

What struck me the most about this book was Gilbert’s description of the relationship between creativity and fear. Because I consider myself a creative, and my partner considers himself one as well, we often find ourselves revisiting the same ideas as we discuss art. The idea that good art comes from dark places/human lives are complicated and art should be a reflection of that/you need to make yourself so, so, so vulnerable as an artist. Rarely, though do we directly discuss the relationship between fear and creativity, which is a little bit funny to me, considering my obsession with fear. Gilbert describes clearly the difference between bravery and fearlessness, “Bravery means doing something scary. Fearlessness means not even understanding what the word scary means.” The proverbial ‘they’ say that people who take (physical) risks typically only get hurt in one of two cases: 1) they are so scared that they are paralyzed by fear, or 2) they are so fearless that they forget to consider risk. Both are irrational states of being. So, we need the middle ground – bravery – in order to intelligently take risks. Fear is necessary in order to create. “In fact,” Gilbert says, “it seems to me that my fear and my creativity are basically conjoined twins – as evidenced by the fact that creativity cannot take a single step forward without fear marching right alongside it.” When embarking on a creative endeavor, Elizabeth Gilbert speaks to her fear:

Dearest Fear: Creativity and I are about to go on a road trip together. I understand you’ll be joining us, because you always do. I acknowledge that you believe you have an important job to do in my life, and that you take your job seriously. Apparently your job is to induce complete panic whenever I am about to do something interesting – and, may I say, you are superb at your job. So by all means, keep doing your job, if you feel you must. But I will also be doing my job on this road trip, which is to work hard and stay focused. And Creativity will be doing its job, which is to remain stimulating and inspiring. There’s plenty of room in this vehicle for all of us, so make yourself at home, but understand this: Creativity and I are the only ones who will be making and decisions along the way. I recognize and respect that you are part of this family, and so I will never exclude you from our activities, but still – your suggestions will never be followed. You’re allowed to have a seat, and you’re allowed to have a voice, but you are not allowed to have a vote. You’re not allowed to touch the roadmaps; you’re not allowed to suggest detours; you’re not allowed to fiddle with the temperature. Dude, you’re not even allowed to touch the radio. But above all else, my dear old familiar friend, you are absolutely forbidden to drive.

I absolutely love this analogy, and will add it to my toolbox for living Love Over Fear. I highly recommend reading Big Magic, and would love to discuss with anyone who has. Who knows, maybe I’ll even pick up a copy of Eat Pray Love now… just maybe.