Wanting Great, Getting Good

Each time I write a song, I want it to be better than the last one.

I imagine my growing body of work as being a steadily improving thing...a smooth ascending hill. But in fact, it's more like the jagged line that illustrates an investment in the stock market. One day it's up, the next it's down...but gradually, over time, the investment's value increases in a series of peaks and valleys. (And isn't artistic practice a lifelong investment?)

Each time that little line dips, I feel queasy. I'm disappointed when a new song doesn't "pay off" the way I want it to. Why didn't it? Was it the idea, the execution, the presentation? It seemed pretty good when I was writing it... Why isn't it lifting off? There's a note of fear there.

Although some analysis is useful, it's important for me to stop judging and let go. Simply let the work be--present it, let it breathe, and let it go--and know that it's serving its purpose in the bigger picture of my creative life. Trust the mystery.

I'll probably always want "great". Through that stretching, I'm developing as an artist. Many times, despite my best efforts, I'll just get "good". Although it seems like a disappointment at the time, it leaves room for growth, and reminds me to practice the art of self-acceptance.