The War of Art
First off, I’ve never had a book change my life so radically as this one. I read it on a flight to Calgary a month ago, and as I devoured Steven Pressfield’s chapters on Resistance, I found myself looking into a mirror of my own procrastination and excuses why I didn’t write songs more often, work on more new banjo tunes, hone my talents more diligently.
Don’t get me wrong - I practice. Especially on the road. My bandmates and crew would attest to the considerable flow of banjo and guitar notes from my dressing room. The road is an entirely different world, and I do decently there in discipline. But many days at home I’d float through without a plan, and sometimes days would flood by, eaten up by all the etceteras of life, in the same way that serious amounts of money can slip through our hands unconsciously with a daily Starbucks or diet Coke or fast food habit.
As I read Pressfield’s book, I saw that my earlier days of constant practicing were more from drivenness, fear, and an all-consuming passion than from actual discipline. People used to tell me I was so disciplined to practice so much. But as the years went by, I developed other passions. Home. Family. Making food. Writing articles. Drivenness fell off me as I learned to trust Christ for my self-worth, as I rejected music as a source of Life. I began making a decent living, one of the more deadly foes of an artist’s output. And my lack of discipline, of boundaries, especially at home, began to show.
A discipline is something you do daily, whether you feel like it or not. Pressfield builds a strong case for turning pro, for fighting against our inner resistance (which is fueled by our fear), for overcoming procrastination, for making our art a daily job where we show up whether or not we feel like it. I like his quote from the writer Stephen Maugham. When asked if he wrote on a schedule or only when inspired, Maugham said, “I write only when inspiration strikes. Fortunately it strikes every morning at nine o’clock sharp.” Andrew Peterson gave me L’Engle’s Walking on Water in which she says essentially the same thing. The daily discipline gives a framework for inspiration to show up.
So when I returned from my Calgary trip, everything changed. My schedule changed to one I’d been talking about for months but had never implemented. Go to sleep early. Get up early, long before the kids. Devotional time. Exercise. Schedule my day. Shower. Eat. Get the kids off to school. And then my rear end hits this chair and I start playing. It stays there, with a short break or two, until noon. Lunch. And then after lunch, more playing until five o’clock. Then I’m done. And I feel great, feel I’ve used my time wisely, and then can wash my hands of the whole thing and hang out with the family.
Now, I’ve not stuck to this every day. I’m at about 80 percent, probably, what with all the irregularity of recording this-and-that, a show here-and-there, etcetera. I have to switch my schedule when I go out and play; I can’t be fainting with weariness at nine in the evening. But I have to say that even during the lesser days, I get so much more done than I have in years.
A couple of caveats for those who are offended by certain things. Pressfield is a secular writer; he wrote The Legend of Bagger Vance and several other big novels. This is definitely not a book written from a Christian perspective. Scattered F dash-dash-dash words and some slippery theology come up in places. To those who are offended by such things, or easily led astray through not having a strong Biblical foundation - by all means avoid reading it. But I took the whole thing, dropped what was wrong or irrelevant, and extracted the truth from it. And it works. The War of Art made me repent of wasting my time on trivialities while letting my God-given mission in life mosey along in the slow lane. It made me realize that inspiration shows up when I’m diligent to do my work. “I learned that he that would be a hero will barely be a man; that he that will be nothing but a doer of his work is sure of his manhood.” George MacDonald, Phantastes
A.S. Peterson has crafted a work of compelling historical fiction which begs the question, “Can this really be a debut novel?” With dogged fidelity, Peterson captures the spirit, manners, and social conditions present during the American Revolutionary War. We meet colorful, credible characters who navigate the high seas of life and love, dependence and independence, war and peace, truth and consequence, and despite forays into dark places, The Fiddler’s Gun is beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.
Walt Wangerin, Jr. strikes again.
Janner Igiby lives in Glipwood, a nothing little village in the land of Skree, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. Manhood is on the horizon, but Janner finds it hard to feel much hope for the future. Skree is ruled by foreign oppressors, snake men called the Fangs of Dang, servants of a shadowy emperor named Gnag the Nameless. The Skreeans are weak and weaponless. They’re even tool-less. Any Skreean who needs to use a hoe has to borrow one from the Fangs (and fill out the requisite paperwork). And from time to time, the Black Carriage arrives in Glipwood to carry young Skreeans toward an unknown fate across the Dark Sea.
I am not a fan of Civil War literature; in fact, I have always thought of it as one of those weird sub-genres for obsessive types. They’re almost like Trekkies with their re-enactments and maniacal devotion to detail. It’s just not my thing (although I’m secretly jealous that they get to dress up and shoot cannons).
A Randall Goodgame song is like a great independent movie. Characters deliver lines like they were lifted from a break room, a truck stop, or a downtown diner. Seemingly incongruent scenes are juxtaposed and plot isn’t obvious; in fact, narrative–a good story–is often more evident than linear plot lines. An indie movie, like a Randall Goodgame song, seems to tell itself. Rather than being rudely yanked by a chain through a sequence of contrived events, with a Randall Goodgame song, I have the sense that I’m being allowed a willing, but vicarious sneak peak into the real lives of his real characters.
Sara Groves irritates me just a little bit. With each album she makes, she moves from strength to strength and is always raising the bar with the quality, depth, and lyrical ambition of her work. And as a fellow artist, that’s just a little irritating since it means the rest of us are going to have to work harder if we hope to keep up.
I am outside on my front porch. The yellowed leaves are methodically falling from the black walnut in the yard, my breath is chalky visible in the recent cold snap, and lately I have been exploring the unpleasant nuances of the dark night of a soul - my own, to be exact. It is a strange passion we live out on this over-glorified orb of rock hurtling through space at some rate that I’m sure would astound me were I to know what it was. It is an odd series of days, I am realizing, when you question your own faith more than you question your own doubt. And, indeed, it is these nagging questions which have prompted me to share my thoughts on Andrew Peterson’s 2003 album, Love and Thunder.
11-year old Reuben Land, a character in the 2001 book Peace Like a River, provides narration that is clear-eyed and insightful, yet retains the magic, wonder, and innocence of youth. I found it easy to entrust my imagination to the author’s clever method of telling the story through the sensibilities of a pre-teen boy. An author with lesser skill would have either made the boy too smart-alecky for his own good or impossibly cute.
I just finished a book that upon closing it, I felt like it finished me in a sense. A quiet meditative book that reached down and stirred the deep waters in me. It’s Marilynne Robinson’s 2005 Pulitzer prize winner Gilead, given to me by my friend Andrew Peterson.
Eric Peters’s body of work addresses a diverse range of topics, but hope is a recurring theme that gently percolates in the midst of it all. And yet, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and Scarce, the flavor of hope that Peters’s work emits has evolved closer to a tone that is more resolute than what came before. And though the complexion of hope has a broad range, the lyrics from Scarce–while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, are now strengthened and bolstered by roots that have grown deeper, radiating an underlying grit and security.
Having read The Great Divorce many times over the years, I’ve found this classic from the great C.S. Lewis to be full of startling clarity and depth on the differences between Heaven and Hell. The only thing both have in common is that both begin in the human will; we can either let Heaven enter us and rule in us to blossom into love and goodness, or allow Hell to infect and reign in our hearts by the daily refusal to submit to Heaven.
Even if you haven’t heard Room to Breathe, its still likely you’ve heard Andy Gullahorn. He’s what I’d call a heavy lifter by trade. He writes lyrics, plays guitar, arranges vocals and adds production help to the work of artists like Jill Phillips and Andrew Peterson.
Allow me to preface this by telling you that I am a great despiser of gushing reviews. I’d much rather write (or read) a scathing dismemberment of the latest Brett Ratner film or Terry Goodkind book than suffer through four hundred words of overblown hyperbole about even the best of things. But when asked to write some thoughts on Frederick Buechner’s Godric, no amount of distaste for high praise was able to intervene. I hope you’ll take what I say with the understanding that I do not say it readily or lightly.
Thanks for the review, Ron. I keep hearing people talk about it - Rob Bell cited it as his favorite book on art during a lecture I heard him give last month - so I’ve been meaning to check it out.
Ron, do you think the book would have applications for someone with a dayjob who only gets to pursue their art in their very limited free time? Or will it just frustrate me…er…that person?
Aaron,
The book would be powerful for anyone who is interested in pursuing anything at any level. One of the main points of the book is to get the reader to look at his art as a job. When we’re at our job we’re on top of it. We can’t be idly browsing the internet or ebaying or constantly taking breaks - otherwise we’d get fired. Pressfield has convinced me of the need for daily discipline in my art - music. That means daily practicing, working, and in that I’m finding deeper enjoyment - the more we learn, and learn deeply, the more enjoyment and inspiration can flourish.
This works at any level. If you have an hour or two a day to work on your art or craft, whatever it may be, make it focused, make it count, have a purpose or end in mind of what you want to accomplish. With guitar, that means not just sitting and watching tv while noodling - it means learning a solo from a recording, or focused improvising on a particular scale, etc. It means to shut off all outside input - tv, internet, email - and do the thing wholeheartedly. By engaging in this focused way we grow a lot faster. Tiger Woods is used as an example in War of Art. He doesn’t just bang out a bucket of balls. It is focused, determined, purposeful practice that has made him what he is.
So whatever the amount of time available, we can make it count. If I increase my speed on one guitar lick in a day, and do that over the course of two weeks, I’m a lot better player at the end of those two weeks than if I’d just noodled around in my comfort zone for a fortnight. For anyone with any desire or aspiration to do anything - this is a great book to start the engine.
Aaron is no longer able to receive internet communications here at his former place of employment thanks to his constant interruptions to actual engineering work for frivolous activities. However, I assure you that your well intentioned comments, will be forwarded to him at the Salvation Army where he and his family will now be living.
Sincerely,
Human Resources
Oh no Aaron! Say it ain’t so!
I’ve been meaning to read this book for years. When I worked on the entertainment committee at my college we would take all kinds of artists (comedians, lecturers, musicians, magicians, etc…) out to dinner after their show. I would always ask about what books have inspired their work and discipline and many of them recommended The War of Art. Thanks for bringing it up Ron. I will definitely plan on reading it in 2008.
I currently fall into the same category as Aaron in that my art has become something that I have to fit into what little free time I have. I hope to continue to learn how to maximize that time.
Jack of all trades, master of none.
This rings true in my life. I have been writing songs, playing instruments, writing poetry, writing prose, taking photographs, cooking, gardening, doing too many things to count. And all this outside an established, bill-paying job.
Dabbling is something in which I’m prone to dabble. For some reason, I don’t think this is conducive to the focused mastery or scholarship of a particular art. I can’t seem to lay one down though.
I know some of you guys have multiple endeavors going. Several of you are instrumentalists and lyricists (two different disciplines in my mind). What are your thoughts on this?
Thanks, Ron. This may be an answer to a prayer. I’m about to graduate and my goal is to hopefully develop a career creating such art. But, I’m on the opposite end that you are. I’m driven, but driven to procrastinate, driven to do nothing, etc. As I have in school, I work hard when I have a deadline or a grade at stake, or when I’ve worked in the real world, when I have a boss down the hall, but I’m scared to death about disciplining myself to produce something in a vacuum that may or may not be heard, published, etc. So, it’s an understatement that I look forward to reading this book. Thanks, again.
Ron,
Thank you so much for this book recommendation. Never has such a book been more relevant to me than it is right now. I’m on the cusp of a few things…basically making plans to make plans…and I’m also trying like there’s no tomorrow to learn how to play the guitar well enough to not be an earsore whilst accompanying myself (and anyone who has checked out my You Tube knows that I ain’t there, yet……). I’ve been playing since January and it seems that ever since then, my phone conversations start out like this:
Me: Hello.
Caller: Hey, whadderyou doin?
Me: Just stinkin’ up the house with this guitar.
Caller: That’s what you’re doin’ every time I call.
Me: Yep.
And most people give me the undue credit of being disciplined because of it. Unfortunately, I’m anything but. I require discipline to do something like lay the guitar down for once and actually wash some clothes or feed the dog. I *want* to play. When I’m not playing, I’m thinking about playing. It’s just not something that I need to discipline myself to do.
MY problem is that I pigeonhole myself by deciding I can’t do something before I even try to do it. My friend was over the other day so we could work up a song to sing in church. Now, he was once a National Champion mandolin player and ranked 3rd in guitar pickin…and he’s a showoff. So, he gets my guitar and just goes to town telling me he wants me to learn this mess of notes he’s strung together (an original tune of his he wanted me to add lyrics to). No way, no how was I going to learn how to do whatever that was he was doing. I couldn’t even wrap my pea brain around what was going on. So, he’s going to teach me Tab so that he can write it down and I can practice it. Whatever, I can’t read Tab and he can’t teach me. My mind doesn’t process stuff like that. But minutes later…I was reading Tab. And a few minutes after that, I was doing his guitar lick (slowed down by about 100 times). I learned a valuable lesson, but those kind of lessons never stick with me and I know the next time he goes to showboating on my guitar and telling me he wants me to learn that, I’ll roll my eyes and say, “You’re an idjit! I can’t play that!”
It would be oso wonderful if that book addressed that sort of procrastination, as well. I put off doing the “meatier” stuff because I’m just convinced that I’m not ready to give it a try. But sometimes I do try it just to humor someone else only to learn that I can kinda, sorta do it, afterall.
Stacy
My
Ron, I took your suggestion a couple of weeks back and read The War of Art. I’m very grateful to you for recommending it. I also saw myself for the procrastinator I am and am working to change that!
I just read this book today. I’ve rarely finished a book so quickly so that speaks in part to how powerful this was for me (it’s also short). Like many, I’d swear Pressfield was spying on my inner psyche for the perhaps 20 years I’ve struggled with the myriad issues he calls Resistance. I think I should probably read this book every year to remind myself of its lessons. I am deeply encouraged by it and can’t wait for Monday to get started!
Some signs, after reading this, I plan to put on the front door of my home office:
NO RESISTANCE ALLOWED!
and
WRITE WHAT YOU REALLY BELIEVE.
John,
I have three lists, three pages, on the wall of my studio right where I sit, which I made from The War of Art:
Characteristics of Resistance - invisible, internal, insidious, etc.
Professional Qualities - show up every day, show up no matter what, stay on the job all day, etc.
Turning Pro - a pro is patient, seeks order, demystifies (focus on technique), accepts no excuses, etc.
These lists are a strong reminder to not waste time. In fact, The War of Art has made me very aware of my time as a precious commodity that ticks away whether or not I accomplish a thing. It’s easy to let it slip through our fingers. War of Art has changed my consciousness to being very aware of time passing, has made me write and stick to a schedule nearly every day - and even if I don’t completely stick to it I’m a lot more aware of time passing and get so much more accomplished.
Of course, now I look at the name of the JPG for the book, and I see:
warofart
Different kind of daily discipline.