The positive tension of living in two places

Version one is supposed to be embarrassing.

Creators should be facepalming when they look back at the first thing they executed all those months, years or decades ago. Because painful as it may be to confront your own prototype, it’s a reminder of growth.

Look how far you’ve come since version one.

Matter of fact, it’s artifact of courage. Do you know how hard it is to create something from nothing, overcome your procrastinatory urges and ship it out into the world, even when it’s not fully ripe yet?

It’s like hanging your balls out of the window on the highway. In winter.

Most people never make even it that far. They either get discouraged and quit, or don’t give themselves permission to start in the first place.

Simpsons characters are exemplary examples. They didn’t start off as iconic cartoons that defined a generation. In the late eighties, everyone’s favorite squabbling family first appeared as a crude animation on a variety program.

They were primitive, bite sized sketches still trying to find their creative footing. If you watch those first animated shorts, the voices were unpolished, the production was low quality and the script was simplistic.

Groening had no idea that his artwork would become a billion dollar empire, the most influential cartoon of all time, and the longest running television series in history.

Now you can buy the original animation art cells at auctions for thousands of dollars apiece.

Folklore like this inspires and soothes me along my own creative journey. Especially when the first iteration of my newest project isn’t up to my unreasonably high standards, and I feel disappointed and insecure about my work.

One mantra worth remembering is this:

When you’re a beginner, version one is supposed to be embarrassing. If it’s not, then you waited too long.

What about you? Are you waiting or creating? If you’re trying to find your creative footing, sooner is better than later. Getting something out into the world that’s crude and unripe is a form of leverage.

Once you announce, even to yourself, that you have made this thing and intend to make more, you build tension. Because now your art lives in two places.

Where it is, and where you want it to be. At the same time. Part of your brain is in the future, and part of your brain is in the present.

And that gap does not go away by itself. If sunlight is the best disinfectant, then maybe it’s time to get your work out of the house and into the world.

It may be primitive, but it’s still yours.

Are you looking forward to looking back?