The Art & Poetry of Mary Coleman

This morning I wrote two poems, but nothing worth sharing. On days I write poorly, I fear I will always write poorly from this point on. That I will never be inspired again. But then I remember a quote that I really live by:

“Fuck motivation. it’s a fickle and unreliable dickfuck and it isn’t worth your time.

Better to cultivate discipline than to rely on motivation. Force yourself to do things. Force yourself to work.

Motivation is fleeting and it’s easy to rely on because it requires no concentrated effort to get. Motivation comes to you, you don’t even have to chase it.

Discipline is reliable, motivation is fleeting. The question isn’t how to keep yourself motivated, it’s how to train yourself to work without it.” -The Angry Violinist.

If I just relayed on motivation and inspiration, I wouldn’t create very much. I need the failures and duds to get me to the successes. If I write every day, I am more likely to encounter inspiration on a more regular basis than if I just sat around waiting for it to come to me.

That old enemy, fear of failure, haunts me when I do something that doesn’t work. A little less in poetry than it does in painting, but it’s still present. Just keep going, Mary, keep going and keep writing. You can’t create a winner every single day, that’s expecting the impossible.

I have a very particular process when I write poetry. It only happens early in the morning when I first wake up. At no other time of the day can I write. I have to be half asleep still. 

The initial idea, however, comes to me throughout the day. I could be doing anything and a line just forms in my head, usually one or two lines. I scribble them down when I have a chance in my day planner and then the next morning, when I am in writing mode, I form the lines into an entire poem.

I write from my subconscious, the deepest darkest parts of me come out in poetry. It’s actually quite therapeutic and expels a lot of repressed crap I have hiding inside my brain.

One thing I am sure of is that I will never take a class in poetry. Never ever. I learned that lesson with art school. That shit ruins you. It stunted my ability to paint and I’ve never recovered fully. I can’t say I’m not proud that I made it all the way through grad school, but it definitely did not benefit my overall visual creative process. I will never let my poetry be caged like my art was and still is.

Getting married was the biggest one. It helped me overcome my terrible temper and rage. Basically the marriage wasn’t going to survive if I didn’t change and so change I did. I found healthier ways to express my anger that weren’t taking it out on my partner. It didn’t happen overnight, but gradually I found outlets that weren’t harmful to others. I don’t think I would have found the motivation to become a different person if I hadn’t gotten married.

I think it comes down to the free will I was discussing yesterday. Marriage happened as a matter of being fated to happen and in order for that marriage to last, which in this case it was meant to last, change in temperament had to occur and did occur. It wasn’t so much a choice of mine to be different, it’s something that had to happen in order for life to play out as it was meant to play out.