a considerable refinement of focus
I have had many (really very sage) mentors over the years who have cautioned me against pitting too many projects against one another. In fact, most have been adamant that one really ought to be the maximum number to commit oneself to at any single point in time. It makes sense: to cultivate anything new into being in a steadfast and nurturing way requires tenacity and clarity of purpose. Particularly anything creative. To split one’s attention is to divide one’s energy; to divide one’s energy is to dilute it with distraction.
Of course, I’ve staunchly ignored them. Or not ignored them but nodded along in agreement, and then gone and done the exact opposite. Not so much out of arrogance I like to think, as optimism. “I’m a very hard worker, and if I self-flagellate enough and deny myself oh I don’t know sleep and rest and exercise and my own goddamn humanity then I can do anything!” Cue series of meltdowns and burnouts in repeated succession.
Well, the first blessing of 2021 has landed on my pate, and it’s the sudden (and somewhat uncomfortable) realisation that this isn’t going to work anymore. I’ve been trying to develop 3+ projects concurrently for years and has that gotten me any closer to making my next film? No, not really. It’s mostly just gotten me cranky, and ashamed that my progress has not been faster.
About a week and a half ago, staring at my Very Optimistic yearly-plan (neatly handwritten onto an sheet of A4 paper and blu-tacked to my wall) that comprised a film, two TV developments and a scripted podcast series development (as well as holding down the ability to do acting and voiceover work), I was suddenly struck with a very physical experience of a kind of simultaneous panic and exhaustion: nausea, a tightness in my chest, a desire to cry and to not stop crying until I fell asleep. That old chestnut.
It took me maybe another 48 hours to really digest what this meant, but it was honestly that none of the projects piled high on top of one another were going to make this year any fun at all, unless the majority of them were removed.
And so, I removed them all. Them All. Not like two or three, but All Of Them. (Fuck. I’ve never ever, ever, ever done that before.) And then I started over. I decided I would get to add One back. Just one. But it had to be the one that I most wanted to do. The thing that I most wanted to get to the end of 2021 and have made significant progress on. The project that I wanted to throw myself in the deep-end with and devote the majority of my working brain to. The project that I felt fucking great about saying, “not right now, honey” to the others because of.
And I’ve got to say, since making that call, the liberation that my brain has been met with is gobsmacking. I’m so proud of how quickly my mind was able to return to old, robust, rigorous research methodologies I’d thought I’d lost to the years; how smoothly the writing has begun to flow since turning on the tap; how strangely assured I feel that tomorrow there will be something else waiting to add to the work.
This is all to say the work is good right now. I’m really enjoying it. It’s challenging the crap out of me, but it doesn’t make me feel nauseous and sad like trying to pursue multiple things was — perpetually. And honestly, I think this has everything to do with Picking a Single Project (that I’m actually devoted, rather than obliged to) and shaping my world around seeing it through.
N.B.: Listen to your elders and wisers, kid. They often know what they’re on about.
from True Stories / Sophie Calle
