Putting it all Together

If you haven't caught on by now, I like to approach problems in a strategic way. I focus on the overall systems and structures that affect our lives. Some people approach problems tactically; I'd opt for the bird's eye perspective. Many times a decision that seems very noble based on local issues may not be so wise when you take a step back and look at it from a strategic vantage point.

For example, I used to have all sorts of coping strategies to help myself write college papers at night. I took breaks, tried to give myself little rewards, limited social time and did all the things people recommend to do when you are struck. I hated all those ideas and they rarely worked, but they were the wisest things to do given the circumstances. But that's just it: Your ears should perk up at the word "given." Always check your givens and assumptions.

It turns out that the even wiser thing to do was to change the circumstances. Once I realized that I write better in the mornings without a belly full of carbohydrates then suddenly I didn't need those coping strategies anymore. All those little tricks to coax myself would at best help me gain inches (when they worked at all), while changing my overall work schedule helped me gain miles without much friction.

The previous four posts have revolved around goal-setting. I often focus on artistic goals, but these same themes apply to any goal, whether it is for fitness, personal growth or any professional aspiration. Try those ideas on and see if they fit! Each post addresses the topic of goal-setting with an eye for the larger framework that we operate in:

1. Time of Day and the Creative Process. Know yourself. Know your peaks and troughs. Maybe you write better at certain times of the day or seasons of the year. You might be a people-person at night or need a long hibernation in the winter. Build your schedule around that.

2. Artistic Formation through the Public Forum. Have a public outlet for your goal. Get feedback from the larger community. The presentation of art is as big of a task as the creation itself and that takes time to unfold. Get started! Even if your goals are not artistic, having that give-and-take with the wider community makes a huge difference.

3. Goals: How to Achieve Them. Think of any other environmental factors that support you. Don't make a spectacle of your personal self-discipline, but rather find the easiest environment to work in. The task itself is where the difficulty should lie. Don't burn yourself out just getting yourself to the drawing board.

4. Follow-Through. Have concrete goals, performances or other calendar items to force you to finish your work and get 'r done! Deadlines are a blessing.

So, what is the point of this post in particular? It wouldn't make sense to write about strategic goal-setting without having a larger, encapsulating post that covers it all!

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This is part 5/5 of the series "Strategic Goal Setting."

Follow-Through

I enjoy writing liturgical music. I often will wake up in the morning and work out a new tune. I have been doing this for years even though I didn't have a direct outlet for that music. I always figured I'd do something with it at some point in my life, but for the time being it was enough just to create it and save it to my computer.

I mention this only to say that thankfully I haven't had a shortage of motivation on this front for a while. Creative inspiration does have its ebbs and flows, but overall I haven't had a problem applying myself to the task, at least when it comes to the initial song creation (I have had a problem with follow-through and finishing pieces, though).

Still, my recent job has caused a spike in this creativity, even though I didn't think I needed it. In the last 6 months, I wrote at least 40 Responsorials Psalm settings and co-authored about a dozen more. I also put the foundations down for several stand-alone songs. On top of that, I have made a number of new arrangements--especially for guitar but also for piano and voice--of contemporary and traditional hymns.

The reasons for this spike are simple and obvious, when I think about it:

1. I have had a direct occasion to play them. Even though I love writing with no goal in mind, it is so much easier to write when there is a concrete, direct application. Very little of this material would have been created if I didn't have a job where I would directly use this material.

2. The job also helps with follow-through. The Psalms simply have to be ready by the appropriate Mass if they are going to be sung at all. I knew if a didn't get a particular Responsorial together it might have to wait as much as a couple years before it rotates back in the liturgical calendar (Responsorials can be done outside of their designated weeks, but we prefer to stick with the liturgical calendar at my church).

2. I have had a supportive team to work with. The choir has been great with editing out unnecessary fluff. I've also worked with a couple of cantors to co-author pieces. We just generally encourage each other. There have been a couple of weeks where left to my own motivation I wouldn't have done any original music, but the prodding of one of the cantors gave me the necessary push. I've often provided the same push for her, as well.

3. I started writing in 4-part harmony. Why? Because I have a choir that needs it, that's why! In the past, I'd usually sculpt a melody line then pepper in with flutes, clarinets, or whatever. Having a choir that will sing these pieces has forced me to write for the choir, and I had to develop those skills. For some tunes, I simply wouldn't have written a harmony if I couldn't think of one off-hand, but having a choir has forced me to do it even when it isn't easy. On a related note, I haven't written anything for the flute in a while, because we don't have a flautist.
In short, I did these things simply because they needed doing.

A couple of my friends have reported similar findings: They love to write prose and poetry, but after being involved in a local poetry group their creativity has positively spiked--and it didn't take a lot of painful self-discipline to apply themselves to the task. It was a fun environment that was conducive to their creativity.

There is nothing like a deadline to foster creativity. It also helps to be with others who are creative and doing the same things. Even though most artists market themselves as individuals, if you did research on them you would probably find that any artist out there who has had success in their field also has had a team of supportive people around them and an environment that brings out the best in them.

I could opt not do my original pieces at church. However, once that choice is made, there is a natural structure that helps keep me on task. There is a deadline and a certain level of complexity is requiest as there is need for parts for a choir and at least one accompanist. Yes, I need enough self-discipline to commit myself to the task. But once I have committed myself, there is a natural structure and demand for follow-through that keeps me moving along.

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This is part 4/5 of the series "Strategic Goal Setting."

Goals: How to Acheive Them

Maybe it's that grid-iron football mentality that many of us were taught at a young age: If you have a problem, you just tuck your head down, double your efforts, and plow through it, inch-by-painstaking inch. Goals shouldn't be easy, after all. If they are easy, something's wrong. Yet, we all successfully do things all the time that are easy. We just don't pay as much attention to them, because, well, they're easy.

I know folks with all sorts of goals--fitness goals, professional goals, emotional health goals, artistic goals. I often hear the same things: I just gotta push myself harder, I just gotta make myself do it. And then when they inevitably fall off the wagon, therein starts the cycle of self-flagellation and mea culpas. Unless guilt and shame are your true goals, this method usually doesn't produce the desired results.

There's no question that self-discipline is a vital characteristic of anyone who achieves their goals. It's important to have an underlying current of self-discipline at all times, at least in the background somewhere. You need to kick it in when times are tough and to be able to muscle through a problem when all else fails. But that's exactly it: You need the "all else." If you continually find yourself going against the grain, maybe there is a way to change the grain.

Are there strategic decisions you can make with your life to put yourself in environments, cultures and conditions that are more favorable to your personal style and thus more conducive to your goals?

Goals are hard enough just by themselves. There is no sense reaping on yourself additional burdens (and the guilt that comes when you fail) by making such an issue of your own self-discipline. I think some folks need to prove something to themselves, perhaps they feel they need to earn something in order to have it. I also suspect that all this talk about self-discipline may just be another method of avoidance. In true tragic irony, focusing so much on the process may just be a distraction from the true goal.

It really doesn't matter if Mozart wrote his pieces effortlessly or in gruelling agony & ecstasy. The important thing is that they got written.

It's a good exercise in being human to acknowledge that we have limitations and weaknesses. That is actually a moment of true empowerment. I can say to myself, "I really want to work out every day, but I know there is no way in hell I'm going to muster up the self-discipline every single day to do it consistently." I know that about myself. I also know that I will work out in a different environment. I'm much more likely to work out if I join a gym, have workout buddies, or change other factors in my life that bring working out closer to the regular infrastructure of my day. I could also think beyond the gym, and realize that I will work harder every day in my backyard vegetable garden than I ever would in a gym. Knowing this I can make some changes to accommodate.

Admitting limitations can be a moment of depression, but it can also be a moment of opportunity. Once you identify a problem, you can more easily identify a solution.

My roommate and I walked every day when we lived for a semester in Spain. Walking was just about the only way to get anywhere. Due to cost, the bus was only for emergencies. We lived on the outskirts of town, so that meant there was at least a mile to and from class, to and from the internet cafes, to and from restaurants, clubs and shopping. We walked 2-5 miles every day. When we did break down to occasionally take the bus, we noticed we didn't feel as good that day. We walked and we loved it--rain, sleet, or shine. We loved it so much and enjoyed such tremendous health benefits for mind, body and spirit from doing it that we said we would continue walking even after we returned to America. Guess what? We probably walked once or twice then let it slide. No matter how good it felt, no matter how convinced we were of its importance, once it was so far removed from the daily routine it quickly fell away.

Walking was hard enough. We had blisters, blistery weather, and some late mornings trying to hoof it to class. But at least we weren't fighting ourselves. When left to my own devices, I can't tell you how much time I would spend trying to convince myself to take a day off, quit or rationalize my way in or out of any other excuse. Being in an environment where walking was essentially the only option took that whole debate right out of the equation. We could spend our energy working through whatever problems arose rather than wasting all that energy deciding whether to get on the horse at all.

Daily, rigorous self-discipline is not what it's cracked up to be. It is also important--and perhaps essential--and perhaps easier and smarter--to put yourself into an environment that is conducive to your goals. It doesn't necessarily get any easier at that point--but at least you can apply yourself to achieving the goal itself rather than spend all your energy just getting yourself to show up.

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This is part 3/5 of the series "Strategic Goal Setting."

Artistic Formation through the Public Forum

Beatitude Sunday is probably not the best day to play Prometheus. Unless you enjoy tragic irony, that is.

I have a lot of friends who are closet artists of all kinds. One major lesson I have taken from my 6 months as Music Director of a church is how crucial it is to just get out there and put your art in a public setting. This is true for any art form--music, prose writing, you name it.

It has taken the last 6 months--2 Masses each week, practices and a few Holy Days--before I've been able to more fully stretch out on the guitar. If you are counting, that's at least 50-60 live "performances" with at least as many practices either with the whole choir or individual cantors.

I could play all sorts of intricate songs at home, but put me in front of a crowd in a formal setting, expecting me to lead a full choir and congregation through my playing, and all sorts of problems arise: My fingers suddenly have all the flexibility and dexterity of telephone poles. For months, the only thing that has worked was chugging my way through simple chords. It was the only thing I could do that was strong enough and confident enough to actually lead in an adequate way. Folks asked for more intricate intros with the melody so they could follow the tune better, but it was all I could do.

It has only been in the last couple of weeks that I have been able to play more elaborate finger-picking songs at Mass. I've been having a blast coming up with my own arrangements of popular songs, and the congregation has responded to it. The big lesson was realizing how long it took to do something in public that I could have easily done at home.

There's nothing like a public showing of your art to point out where the gaps are. A little hesitation while playing at home may not be noticed until it throws off the entire song at Mass. You also need to be twice as good in private in order to play half as good in public, when you factor in nervousness, crowd distractions, and sound system issues that are all poised to throw you off when you least want it.

Part of the problem was just finding a comfort level with the microphone and sound system. Artists often forget how important it is to navigate the technical doo-dad's and gizmotrons that are part and parcel of their craft. It takes a while to find the right settings and to get comfortable with placement of the mic so that it rings out the way it should. Even purists who abhor electronic amplification still have to adjust to each room they are in and factor in how the temperature, humidity and crowd size can impact the resonation of sound. These lessons are just as important as learning the notes on the page.

The public presentation of art is also crucial for garnering critical feedback. Many original ideas that work well in the privacy of your own living room just can't hold water in public. Some just need slight--but essential--tweaking. In Catholic liturgical music, I would argue that it should be darn near mandatory that all pieces are done at Mass before any attempt is made to seek publishing. Each piece needs to be sung and played and sung back to you by a congregation. They need to be part of the life of the Church, and the people need to be on board.

In addition, a choir needs to give feedback to chop an inflated song down to its essential core. While my choir is experienced enough and technically sophisticated enough to sing just about anything, it is often good when they struggle or wrinkle their noses at a new piece. If a piece can only be done well by the most avant garde ensemble, then it just might be missing something important, especially since I'd rather craft tunes you can whistle while you wash dishes. The public forum can be frustrating, and you have to know when to push for something new and stick to your guns and when to let the masses who are often resistant to new things push back. A lot of "cute" ideas aren't really that cute. A solid church choir won't let you get away with much, and your art will usually be the better for it.

You can put something together that you think has all the t's crossed and the i's dotted, but then an editor takes a look and brings it back to you smothered in red pen. That is not a moment to be discouraged, as the editing process is an essential part of the craft. It is not something that only "bad pieces" go through, every piece should be edited by people far a wide--for technical issues or to discuss the vision. Any good artist has a team of such people--whether formally assembled or otherwise--that serves this role. You should expect that a significant portion of what you create will not leave the cutting room floor (and you can always keep that stuff in the back of your mind to use again later).

Since my guitar playing has been going well lately, perhaps I tried to over-reach this Sunday and make a bit of a show of myself: I originally planned to do the opening song on banjo, the offertory in an open turning, the Psalm and Alleluia on piano and the rest on a second guitar in standard tuning. The problem was that the choir just struggled. No matter how prepared I thought I was, they just couldn't get into the pieces, and I'm still not sure why. I shelved the banjo to try to help, as I was a little awkward with it, but Saturday was still disappointing. We did close out Sunday singing strong, but my lesson had been learned by that point.

I will also admit something unfortunate: I only picked the song for Offertory because I was super-excited about an arrangement I came up with. I borrowed Erin's guitar and had a blast working on it in an open tuning. The problem was that the song had no bearing on this Mass at all. We were talking about the beatitudes, and this was a song about the centrality of the Crucifixion to our faith. As a good theology student, I can build a systematic case as to how and why those two themes are related. "Blessed are the meek" is, after all, not that far removed from the paschal sacrifice--the less becomes more and the sacrifice becomes a gain. Still, I didn't feel comfortable with it and my motives were not theological. Normally, I go to great lengths to pick music that is liturgically appropriate, but this time I let that slide a bit.

I keep getting reminded that slow-and-steady is what will win this race. Yes, it is good to stretch out and reach for more, but I reached too far and got burned this time. I also didn't reach with my feet on the ground, and that is probably the most significant issue. I picked at least one song for the wrong reasons, and probably had my focus off center on some other pieces. As a result, I'm not surprised that it just didn't work. I had too much of my focus on my own playing without giving enough thought to connecting to people through the music.

Seek the Lord all you humble of heart. As this passage from today's readings suggests, being meek doesn't mean we are passive or inactive. We need to seek the Lord, but through humility. We need to seek goodness and seek artistic fulfilment. You see, Prometheus wasn't wrong for reaching for more--he was wrong because of his motives for reaching.

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This is part 2/5 of the series "Strategic Goal Setting."

Time of Day and the Creative Process

I've always been an out-of-the-closet night owl, and I have worn that badge with pride. You can imagine that I was shocked and amazed to discover that I'm far more creative and write better in the first few hours after waking up. I was actually in denial about this for a while, because I didn’t even want to think of myself as a morning person!

I had an epiphany when I realized there was a huge time-of-day component to writing, for me. The best times are somewhere after coffee and before breakfast. I naturally sit down to start blogging or work on a song. As soon as I eat a big meal, blood goes to the belly and it’s all over.

Being a procrastinator means that I rarely wrote in the mornings during college. Each day, I took advantage of every distraction until I found myself staring at the computer screen at midnight, attempting to squeeze out a gold nugget or two. I now realize I was always writing during times that were less-than-ideal at best, and absolutely contrary to my body's rhythms at worst (with procrastinitis on top of that)! I was often working against my own grain. Looking back, I remember there were a few times when I wrote pages almost effortlessly in the AM that would have taken true grit later in the day, but I didn't fully appreciate why until much later.

There is a hierarchy to creativity for me, I’ve noticed. The deepest levels of creativity are best accessed in the morning—putting something on a blank piece of paper. It doesn’t matter if it’s writing music or songs. The rest of the day is certainly not extraneous, though, as other forms of creativity take center stage. Editing is perfectly appropriate for later in the day and so is what I call "secondary writing"--tying up loose ends, closing out scratchy paragraphs and adding essential dimension and color.

I actually do much better with music performance and improvisation in the afternoons. For example, I play guitar at Mass much better Saturdays at 4:30 PM than Sundays at 10 AM. I can crank out a better guitar solo later in the day. That could possibly be because my body has had time to loosen up during the day, too. However, any public presentation is better for me later in the day. I'm more jovial and creative in conversations as the day progresses, too. I become more of an extrovert as the day goes on. I'm much more present to people.

I finally had writing papers down to a science when working toward my Masters degree. Even on days when I was running behind and had to make every hour count, I would still subdivide my work in the following way to maximize my output and still work within my body's parameters:

First 3 hours of the day (or as long as the juices keep flowing): Writing!--Especially anything from scratch.

Next: Editing, joining disparate sections, rounding out pieces.

Afternoons: Reading, note-taking and research. Note: Taking notes provides the occasion for any later-in-the-day creativity to come out, as those notes often become the building blocks for later sections in a paper. Summarizing another author's ideas is a good writing exercise for this time of day.

Burning the midnight oil: If I need to stay up late, the best tasks are the most technical--adding citations, sculpting a bibliography, tinkering with layout & graphics.

After midnight? I used to have breakthrough moments sometime around 3-5 AM. I don't do this to myself anymore, partly because it's not kind, and partly because my body simply cannot hang in there long enough for this to happen anymore even if I wanted it to.

By adhering to the above schedule, I make use of my body's peak times. I also spread out the different types of work throughout the day. In a pinch, I can be productive nearly all day, because I don't over-tax any one area of the brain.

You can always go against your grain and attempt to force yourself to operate contrary to your body's natural rhythms. What I have found is that by doing that I would often just end up staring blankly at the screen for several hours, attempting to gather momentum via endless rounds of the latest time-waster games (that meant Minesweeper or Tetris in college; today that means Farmville). These days, if I have time to spare, I don't even try to write if my body won't cooperate. That time is best spent sleeping with the goal of hitting it early in the AM.

Keep in mind that the way I subdivide the day is relative to the individual: "Morning" is the time after waking up, it has nothing to do with the clock. My natural morning is around 10 AM, when I don't have commitments that force me out bed earlier.

Knowing this brings to mind a somewhat sobering fact: I can't do all things at all times. I have limitations. But this also means I have important information to make decisions about my day. I've been endlessly frustrated when working 9-5, knowing I am squandering my best creative hours doing something else. Even when immersed in the world world, I'd often find myself scratching down notes for a blog post or paper in my head, because it was simply in me to do during that time of day. Lately, I've been blessed to have a work schedule that is more conducive to my creative ebbs and flows. If my goal is to write, I have to find a way to orient my lifestyle around that, not give my writing the leftover scraps of weekends or occasional days off.

There are other factors that affect my creativity. Eating a protein-based meal helps significantly, while carbs make me feel more scatter-brained. I also have come to respect and know that creativity often comes in spurts, so when it's there I need to give it free voice and not just assume it will be there at a later time when I want it to be there. This is especially true when conducting research--if a particular passage sparks an idea, I need to write about it right at that moment and not assume I will be able to find that passage later, re-read it and have the same spark to comment on it.

Do you have a natural cycle for creativity like this?

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This is part 1/5 of the series "Strategic Goal Setting."