Until you acknowledge this — that you are a writer — you are depriving the world of a gift it longs for.

I’ve “known” Jeff Goins for one or two years now. I soaked up his blog from the beginning stages, and I’ve read just about every e-book he’s offered the world. His new book, You Are a Writer (So Start Acting Like One), is inspiring. Challenging. Universal. Through his stories about falling in love, working at a “this isn’t so bad” sort of job, and climbing a cathedral tower, he shows us that he’s just a guy realizing a dream.

And we can all relate to that, right?

He talks about motivations and aspirations:

The more I love what I do, the more others do, too.

He talks about fears, failures, and flaws. He talks about tools you need that reach beyond the keyboard and pdf exporter.

He even uses the word “profundity,” which is, in fact, one of my favorite words.

What’s amazing about Jeff’s latest book is that these truths can apply to any creative dream-chaser: artist, writer, musician, entrepreneur, communicator. I talk to lots of other creatives who want to do “more,” whether it be drawing or painting or writing. But they don’t think their dreams can be fulfilled. Or they don’t think they have time to do the thing. Or they [fill in the blank].

And what they we need is not another kick in the pants. We need a big brother to show us the ropes.

Jeff has done that for me, and some of the same words he’s spoken to me are in this book.

He’s helping me realize my dreams and he has a passion to help you realize yours as well. He’s passionate about this because he’s lived it. I’ve seen it play out over the past few years. Jeff is legit and this book is legit and if you want your dream to be legit you need to hear what Jeff has to say.

Get the book.

I’m beginning to believe (by experience) that it can be done.

Case in point: Right now, as I’m typing, I really want to grab my art journal and pencils and a color or two and get some serious sketching done. I’ve felt lethargic and “uninspired” for most of the day, but now I’m ready to go.

How did this happen?

I’ve been wasting time on the internet, of course.

Really.

In the fatigue and lack of motivation to produce any “output,” I decided to return to a few favorite wells of inspiration for some “input.”

And it’s working. I’m typing as fast as possible so I can set the macbook down and get on with some analog art.

But, first, my list of go-to wells of inspiration:

• Pinterest, but only after tweaking and editing which boards I follow. See? Gotta fight the unnecessary noise and go straight to content.
• Jylian Gustlin’s art. Mercy. I want to be like her when I grow up.
• Random mixed media and art journaling and creativity oriented websites and blogs.
• Sabrina Ward Harrison’s “Spilling Open.” I have a physical copy and when holding it, I feel like I’m holding someone’s heart in my hands.
• Movies/videos about other creatives and their lives: TED, documentaries, interviews, etc. I look for content that centers around others’ creative process and struggle.
• My own work. Sometimes I can flip through my own pages and my brain goes “oh remember how fun this is!?” and I’m right back in the groove.
• The right kind of music. This will remain undefined because “the right kind of music” is different for different circumstances.

There ya have it. What are some of your go-to wells of inspiration? I bet if you think back on moments where your brain goes into happy “oh let’s go create something” mode, you’ll realize that you do in fact have wells.

“If you stuff yourself full of poems, essays, plays, stories, novels, films, comic strips, magazines, and music, you will automatically explode every morning like Old Faithful. I have never had a dry period in my life because I feed myself well.” ~ Ray Bradbury

I’ve been thinking about the Signal-to-Noise Ratio lately—not in the literal sense, but in the figurative informal sense: how much substance can be found in all the “noise” of my life?

For artists, for creatives, for thinkers, that’s the question we most need to ask. Where’s the substance, and are we partaking regularly? Where’s the well, and are we drinking constantly?

Bradbury says we have to “stuff” ourselves with inspiring content—true signal—not just the noise that numbs our senses and dulls our awareness of inner dialogue.

Lately, I’ve stuffed myself with:

• Rilke
• Lamott
• Emerson
• Sabrina Ward Harrison
• Jonsi
• J.J.Abrams
• Basquiat
• Christine Valters Paintner

I’m feeling more inspired, less tired, ready to pour out onto page and canvas. It’s the  steady rhythm of input and output, in balance, that gives me energy to create. But this can’t be achieved haphazardly. I have to consciously “stuff” myself with content and spend a little less time on the things that are just noise. (Did you notice what’s not on my list?)

More signal. Less noise.

What are you doing to stuff yourself?

This piece can be found at my Etsy store -- link below.

At the end of 2011, Drew and I decided to put a little breathing room in my life in preparation for adoption and all the emotions and schedule changes and excitement that is a part of that process.

We decided to call it “Mandy’s Crazy-Creativity Season” or something like that. I was let loose to stretch my creative limits, explore new realms of possibility, and just have some fun creating. No pressure. No obligations. Just fun.

And something amazing and unforeseen has happened over the past six months. Not just the art journaling classes, and not just the prints that people want to buy on Etsy, but something even more exciting.

It’s the commissioned pieces.

It’s the requests for me to make original work that will hang in people’s houses, offices, studios, and churches. I’ve lost count; actually, I never started counting because I never expected this element of Mandy’s Crazy-Creativity Season. Just when I get caught up, I get a few more week’s worth of requests.

Yesterday, when planning a series of panels for a church in Virginia and a set of pieces for a writer/blogger friend, I was in tears over this—those girlie-happy-tears.

Here’s the thing. When I was a little girl, I wanted to be an artist. Then “Growing Up” happened. And then infertility and depression and all these emotions that I needed to process and somehow I wandered into the world of art journaling and, well, here I am—right back where I started.

I don’t advertise that I do commissioned pieces because I never really planned on it. But this is now a part of my story—and may be a part of your story as well. If you’ve ever seen something that I’ve posted somewhere on the internets, and you’ve thought “Oh I like that, but I want it in a different color / size / shape / quote / etc” give me holler.

I’m your artist-for-hire.

What about you? Care to confess?

If you would like to use this page a screensaver or wallpaper or something, you can download it here. Happy Wednesday, y’all.

Let’s start by saying it really shouldn’t be that important. No celebrity couple should take up this much real estate in media coverage, especially with all the events in Syria and Afghanistan and North Korea right now. Those things matter.

But.

All we’re hearing about right now is Brangelina Brangelina Brangelina.

That, by nature of the fact, is what makes their engagement important.

This morning, a friend asked the question on Facebook: Do we really care?

I understand her question completely. This moment in our culture seems trivial and shallow, but the media won’t shut up about it: He spent a year designing this chicklet engagement ring. This is America’s version of a Royal Wedding–a State wedding–the most important wedding of the new decade.

My reply to her post: It’s important in the sense that Hollywood, celebrities, and the media have a handhold on creating culture. I know you’re being facetious, but I’m a closet-observer of their relationship. I’ve been intrigued by their intent not to get married until the LGBT community has equal marital rights in every state. That is a strong statement. And so is the fact that they’re now engaged, probably because their kids are asking questions and they are telling their kids that marriage is the most important human commitment. Whether we agree or not, Brad and Angelina have quite an influence on how marriage and family are perceived in our country.

I know all this media coverage seems like hype, but it’s not. For reasons of beauty, popularity, or whatever, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are more than Hollywood’s Royal Couple. They are national influencers. This can be seen in the fact that they don’t need to hold a press conference to issue a statement on their view of marriage.

All they have to do is go out in public with a rather large engagement ring.

This is why I care. I care because America cares.

But what about you? Do you care?

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.”  Albert Einstein

About six minutes in, I grabbed my pen and journal: “Maybe there are times when mystery is more important than knowledge.”

Wow, J. J. I’m with you on this one.

I was one of those LOST fanatics who didn’t find the vague ending and loose strings confusing. Nope. I was okay with how things turned out and I accepted that the writers weren’t going to explain everything.

In his TED talk, J. J. described the mystery box concept as “being what you think you’re getting and what you’re really getting.” It’s the conflict of anticipation and reality. The conflict of what we think should happen and what actually happens—the classic twists and turns of a good storyline.

Our lives are mystery boxes filled with jarring twists, frustrating roadblocks, surprise endings, and unanswered questions.

Ok J. J. I also hear you saying that great stories are made of great “mystery box” moments.

And that’s what has sucked me into all of Abrams’ plot lines. I can’t resist the “mystery” of wondering what’s going to happen next. It engages and entertains me and I don’t complain about the things I don’t understand. You’d think I would have similar patience with the mystery box that is my own life.