Intuition, Reaction, Progress
On Choosing the Right "Next"?
Some people look to the past, understanding the world in contextual, historical perspective; others take life and work and politics day by day, as they come. With due respect to both those ways of being, I’m wired to look ahead.
But in a world where a whole lot of people seem to be simultaneously reacting to events of yesterday and five minutes ago, or stuck with fingers in the air, attempting to intuit the societal, cultural, or artistic “mood” of today, it’s a challenge to focus forward. The mists cloaking our unknown futures are as murky as they’ve ever been.
Future-motivated planners like me look to “next” as a box to check, a step toward the goal. Never mind that the idea of failsafe plans (whether strategized in weekly, yearly or for longer terms) is pretty much mythical. We’re used to anticipating what’s ahead. In stories, it’s reason to turn the page, watch the next episode, follow the thread. And while we naturally hope for straightforward “nexts” - in relationships, travel arrangements, career trajectories, and creative productions - it’s not the usual way.
Still, when reactivity seems to mire us and intuition offers no clarity, what else is there but “next?” We want resolution. We want improvement. We want progress - all the magic of moving on. But how?
Where should we point our pens, brushes, notes, materials?
I frequently wonder whether my creative “next” is the thing I’m working on now, or the idea that just sparked. Maybe I should change gears, try something new?
Making art of any kind can be an uncomfortably protracted process. As a result, shelving a project in favor of shiny inspiration feels like freedom sometimes. But diversion - however tempting – isn’t usually the way to the ultimate end. It’s reactive, avoidant. Better to stir the fresh thinking into what’s already in progress. Even when my current work seems stuck, I can mull a new idea without abandoning the old. Past and present could be important down the road. Either or both could be my ticket to “next.”
Because, just over the hill or around the bend, industry and cultural shifts continuously change the environments into which ideas will land. While creativity lives in the present, it’s near impossible not to wonder whether the inspiration we follow today is leading toward a generous reception tomorrow.
And yet, isn’t that what we all want?
As Jami Attenberg, novelist, essayist, and author of the Substack, Craft Talk, says, “Some days that’s what we are all just living for: a tiny bit of success.”
We dream of a magical “just right” path forward. In reality, we’re all just guessing.
I was once told that “snails are having a bit of a moment.” But who in the fickle and ever-evolving creative marketplace could shepherd my sticky, sluggish snail submission to the right hands? I’m still searching - has the moment passed?
Since no soothsayer can reliably discern the market whims that will align with projects in development, it’s better to see the work as its own end. Aiming for artistic focus makes more sense than wishing for timing kismet. And if history isn’t as predictive as we’d like; if intuition works more as a suggestion than a promise, our actual on-ramps to “next” are simply ourselves:
why do we create?
who is our audience?
what do we have to offer?
how can we add value?
The Brave Edit’s Jess Keating - author, zoologist, artist, suggests the following exploration:
The broad plan you’ve got for your creative work - is it something that feels right?
How tightly are you holding onto what you want to happen, while excluding the possibility for what wants to happen? Is there a path for the unknown to reach you?
If you’re feeling anxious or tense about the future, what could you give yourself right now to help yourself feel a bit safer? What do you need?
Don’t try to force yourself to toss out all your plans. Instead, freewrite with this: If I was willing to let go (a little) of my creative plans right now, I would probably… [just write until you run out of steam].
On the road to discovering your “what next?” there should be room for choice, room for drawing from (rather than reacting to) the past, room for intuition, room for exploration. Whether it’s guessing or following a strategic path, remember…
Whatever “next” you find, there’s bound to be a little magic in it!
