Image by Jahidul islam jahid jj from Pixabay
The Legend of Bagger Vance first entered my life in movie form. And I loved it: that adorable little southern boy; the gorgeous scenery of the old south; the courageous inner battle of the hero. Not to mention Matt Damon (and Will Smith and Jack Lemmon!) I had no idea there was a book. So when I came across The War of Art, about how to do the work of making your art, and saw it was written by the same guy (Steven Pressfield), I was intrigued. This author could tell a great story; could he teach me to do the same?
Pressfield has a website with a blog, active comment sections, and numerous online courses, one of which is free. Plus, he has written numerous novels, screenplays, and several books on the craft of producing your art (whether that is writing, painting, or starting a plumbing business.) In short, the guy is prolific, not to mention successful and, most importantly, interesting.
Certainly, that’s all great. Everyone’s attracted to the successful types; if you’re going to learn, learn from the best. There’s no doubt that Pressfield has it. But so do a lot of other artists. There are literally millions of exemplary people one could hitch a wagon to. This guy’s different, however, in that his aforementioned first successful novel, The Legend of Bagger Vance, took him thirty years to write. That’s right, thirty. As in a three, then a zero. I don’t care who you are or what gets you going, you have to admire that and wonder about it. How’d he stick with it? Dang, I’ve given up on some goals before I even finished imagining them. This guy puts in thirty years. And hasn’t stopped.
In The War of Art, Pressfield asserts that the only thing holding any artist back is his own internal Resistance. Yes, he capitalizes it; it’s that important. The book is broken into two parts. In the first, he describes Resistance at length; he gives examples; he beats you down with it. For instance, he says that seeking support before you start your endeavor is a form of resistance. So is chronic lateness, being a victim, and “the blasting of rap music at 110 dB from your smoked glass ‘95 Supra.” In fact, there are thirty seven micro chapters about Resistance in Part One of the book. Think you’ve got a real excuse to procrastinate on your creative journey? Sorry, chronic conditions of any kind, being poor, drug addiction, alcoholism, even gossip is all part of the enemy he’s named Resistance.
In his own words:
Anything that draws attention to ourselves through pain-free or artificial means is a manifestation of Resistance.
There you go. Don’t even try to sneak past him; don’t try the “Yes, but…” thing. Pressfield won’t buy it, and won’t let you buy it. Because he’s been there. He knows.
And he doesn’t stop at naming the enemy; he also identifies the solution. Essentially, the solution is Start. Just begin. Create a space, designate it for work, and do it. Yes, you can take classes or seek a mentor or meditate, but start first. Do anything: type out the first page; print out an outline; sketch a flow chart. Literally anything.
Because once you start, something magical happens. The Muse notices you, and more importantly, she approves of you. I know, for some that sounds silly or New-Agey or plain weird. But it’s really just another way of saying that once you start, your inner self (that voice in your head that is sometimes awesomely supportive but more often homicidally critical) realizes you really meant what you said. You’re going to do this. See? You’ve already started. Take that, inner critic.
Another great thing about Part Two is the genuine respect that guides every one of his words. That’s really the power of this book: he doesn’t think he’s a badass; he doesn’t assume you’re not. He knows that if there’s something in you that you really believe in (writing, sculpting, dog walking), you simply must make it happen. Nothing short of doing so will be enough. Yes, it’s difficult. Yes, you’ll be judged, criticized, often belittled (Who do you think you are?) But if you don’t work that dream, it’ll be way worse. Truly.
That first thirty years of his struggle taught Pressfield a lot of lessons. The honesty and humility with which he shares those lessons is nothing short of compelling. I’m not even done with it yet and I’m spellbound (as well as freshly motivated.) Because let’s face it, depending on where we are in life, we may very well have another thirty, forty, or even fifty more years.
Wouldn’t it be nice to have something to show for it?