By Justin Tisdale, CIIS Admissions Counselor
I’ve always considered myself an artist, but after finishing my MFA in Poetics, I was at a loss as to what to do to pay the bills. Last fall, when California Institute of Integral Studies introduced two new MFA programs adopted from New College—one in Writing and Consciousness and one in Creative Inquiry, Interdisciplinary Arts—I found my niche as an admissions counselor, helping others to decide whether to pursue a degree focusing on self expression through writing or art. Though I love working with prospective students and interacting with the fabulous artists and writers in the programs, I felt my office job stunted my poetic output. I struggled extensively with this feeling until reaching a critical realization: Why not utilize my employee benefits and take a writing class in one of the very programs I represented?
I decided to take
The Creative Process and the Creative Work with
Sarah Stone. I picked this class because it seemed specifically designed to jump start the creative process; furthermore, it allows the student to focus on (and finish) a creative project of his or her choice. It seemed perfect because I was working on a poetry manuscript and desperately needed a deadline in order to motivate me to finish it. The class description also promised to implement a long-term artistic routine for the student. I was doubtful. I couldn’t imagine fitting anything else in my overbooked life, but decided to give it a try.
During our first class, we took turns sharing our projects and reading excerpts or showing video clips. The class was intimate—only six people—and we were all working on very different projects. There was a memoir writer, a buto dancer, another poet, a peace activist, and a short fiction writer. I was surprised at how supportive everyone was of each other and I was grateful to get my mind in gear thinking about my project.
For the next class, we had to make specific commitments to our project and our process. As we moved around the circle classmates stated commitments like, “I commit to finish my project and write for two hours a morning before work.” This made me anxious. There was no way I could make a commitment like that. I interrupted the class, saying, “Okay everyone, I’m really beginning to panic.” We all laughed, but I wasn’t kidding.
Then we moved on to the class exercise, collage. As I sat down with my magazines, poems, and quotes, I discovered a creative flow and forgot my anxiety. I finished first. The professor, Sarah, came over to my table. I must have looked as hopeless as I felt, admitting my inability to cut anything out of my life to make time for writing; everything I do felt so important. After talking for some time, she said, “Maybe it’s enough for you to just work on believing that it’s possible to fit writing in. Just work on that right now.” I mulled that advice over for the rest of class.
That night, at home, I had a small but important moment. I decided I would commit to 20 minutes of writing a day, six days a week. It sounds minuscule, but it really shifted something. My 20 minutes in the morning usually bleeds into 35 or 45 minutes, longer on the weekends, and keeps me thinking about my work all day. I made a commitment to myself, and my writing, and it actually worked. I’m taking it seriously.
It’s ironic that the thing I blamed the most for not writing, my job, was the thing that allowed me access to Sarah Stone’s The Creative Process and the Creative Work class. Because of it, I discovered a way to recommit myself to my craft. Now, when I talk to prospective students, who are people all along the continuum of having an arts practice, I have no doubt that they too can have a breakthrough. In a way, building a writing routine made me realize the importance of my job. I, too, can introduce others to a method of prioritizing their art.
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