What Are You Waiting For?

I've mentioned this previously, but one of my favourite books is "Oh! The Places You’ll Go" by the incomparable Dr. Seuss.

In it, Dr Seuss writes about “a most useless place”, calling it “The Waiting Place". He writes that it's:

…for people just waiting.

Waiting for a train to go

or a bus to come, or a plane to go

or the mail to come, or the rain to go

or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow

or the waiting around for a Yes or No

or waiting for their hair to grow.

Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite

or waiting for the wind to fly a kite

or waiting around for Friday night

or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake

or a pot to boil, or a Better Break

or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants

or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.

Everyone is just waiting.

No matter the circumstance, ]here’s always going to be a time when we find ourselves waiting: if anything has proved that, it's the last 12 months. We've had to do a ton of waiting. COVID has forced that upon us in no uncertain terms.

But, I’m not talking about waiting in a queue or waiting for something arrive or anything like that. Sure, there are times we have to wait. That’s life. Circumstance. The way it goes. Further, there are things in life that we should wait for. That's called having patience. You can't have everything right now, no matter how much you'd like to. (God knows, we live in a world that promises everything on a "buy now, pay later" basis. Maybe that's a problem... and another story for another time. See? That's me making you wait right there!)

No, the type of ‘waiting’ I’m writing about here about is the waiting for something to happen with our creative life. It’s a sort of silent waiting that almost borders on procrastination - but isn’t. It’s a waiting that takes up our creative space and thoughts, but never materialises into anything. It’s the to-do list that never seems to get ticked off. We’ll be doing other stuff, for sure, but we’re also using the ‘other stuff’ to distract us from the waiting we’re really doing.

Are you with me now? Good.

So, here’s the thing: we might know what we’re waiting for but, we don’t always know why we’re waiting. Oh, sure; there’s plenty of reasons the we might say (the time’s not right, I’m working on it, I’m busy at the moment, etc.). We're full of excuses: got loads of them. If it's not one thing, then it's another.

Yet when we push past the excuses, we’re not actually waiting for anything. We say we are, but there’s deeper emotions at play. These are emotions that restrict our creativity, like a snake wrapping itself around its prey and slowly strangling it. Emotions that don't breathe life into what we're doing, but rather suck it out.

Fear.

Insecurity.

Uncertainty.

And here's the rub. When it all comes down to it, these emotions (and those like them) are holding the reins because you’re careering towards a new and uncharted destination — The Unknown.

But rather than go to The Unknown we decide to take a detour (wrongly) to The Waiting Place instead. Yep, we decide to the take the safe road where nothing can happen, while the road we should take awaits.

Yet as Dr Seuss so wisely informs us —The Waiting Place  is a useless place.

Why?

Because NOTHING HAPPENS THERE.

Zip. Zero. Nadda. A whole big lot of … nothing.

We wait. And wait. And while we're waiting we do pretty much a whole lot of nothing. We're just waiting. And doing nothing.

So why would we rather put ourselves in The Waiting Place instead of The Unknown?

Ultimately it comes down to safety and security. There’s a warmth in what we already know. The islands have been charted. You know the inhabitants. You know how to avoid the rips and the rocks. You know the pitfalls and dangers, and you know exactly how to overcome the challenges that await you. It’s a board (bored?) game where you know all of the answers and have worked every strategy. It’s the road already travelled. Sure, there’s be subtle differences, but ultimately you already know the set up, the journey, and the destination. The gags have been written and you're content to laugh at them even though you've heard them all before.

And because it’s already travelled: you already know the outcome. There’s nothing new here. The mountain been conquered and you’re just climbing it again.

I have to admit, I’m a total sucker for The Waiting Place. It’s safe. It’s nice. There are days (months even) where I’m happy to be there — even though there’s a nagging in the back of my soul that’s telling me to get the hell out.

But creativity isn’t necessarily about being safe. It’s about diving — nay, full-body hurtling yourself — into The Unknown. It’s about pushing yourself, stretching your boundaries, digging way underneath the surface and finding that gold. It’s exploring the things that frighten us. It’s about discovering new territories and concepts and ideas and ideologies and even entire theologies. It’s breaking out of the cocoon of what you already know to incorporate the sheer strangeness of something brand spanking new.

It’s about the fear, the panic, the excitement, and the pounding of your heart that ultimately produces what we all long for: our unique personal expression of creativity.

See, when we create within The Waiting Place, we create safe.

When we create within The Unknown, we create something that is yet-to-be-known.

And then, there's a weird paradox that takes place: after you’ve created in The Unknown, it begins to transform into The Waiting Place, and you have to thrust yourself back into The Unknown by taking a risk.

Risk.

That’s what it all comes down to: Are we willing to risk what we know to discover all that we are yet to know?

I hope so. That’s why we create. It’s why I write.

It’s the stories that I haven’t told, the songs I’m yet to write, the styles and instrumentations I haven’t explored, and the time signatures I generally don’t write in. It’s the words and phrases I’m yet to piece together. As much as I like The Waiting Place, I get excited by The Unknown more.

Why? Because it’s where amazing things can happen.

So, if you've decided to camp in The Waiting Place, it’s time to sell up and get out. Make that call. Enter that competition. Research that idea. Catch that ride. Make every day your own creative milestone. Force the opportunities happen. Ask the big questions. Put your hands on the tools of your choice and create something, even if it’s not that great. Do it anyway.

And when discovering The Unknown becomes the normal, you’ll no longer be an inhabitant (and even a slave to) The Waiting Place.

Don’t thank me — Thank Dr Seuss.

Until next time,

Drew