The Creative Caveat

I’d like to introduce you to something I call The Creative Caveat. Although as I explain what I mean by this, there is every chance you might already feel strangely familiar with one.

Let’s start with a regular caveat, which simply means a warning or a proviso of a specific condition or limitation. In Latin the word caveat means “let him beware”.  So then, my definition of a Creative Caveat is a warning message that we fire, declaring the limitations of our creative abilities, efforts or results. And it’s a warning message we like to fire, a lot!

Creative Caveats usually show up in a situation, where we feel like our creativity (or lack of thereof) is being exposed to other people and as a result we feel vulnerable, usually to their criticism or judgement. You might have witnessed Creative Caveats playout in meetings or brainstorms, when someone reluctantly shares an idea, but then immediately discredits that idea by caveating it with something like;  ‘…it’s probably rubbish, …don’t feel like you need to use it, …Ignore me, I am talking total rubbish’ perhaps you’ve found yourself sharing a similar caveat of your own.

I hear Creative Caveats all of the time. It wasn’t too long ago, a member of my writer’s group, nervously volunteered to read his words aloud, but not before firing off his warning message to everyone in the group, ‘Okay, this is just a work in progress, there’s still a long way to go, it really is just a shitty-first draft… at best.’

These caveats illustrate how quickly we reach for language that sabotages our creativity, often without realising that’s what we’re doing and certainly not understanding why we’re doing it. These words, typically set on auto pilot, are then plotting entirely the wrong direction for our creative aspirations.

Let me tell you about Ben, a good friend of mine who recently went through a pretty tough break up. He was left heartbroken and what followed was some serious but understandable comfort eating. Unsurprisingly Ben gained a little weight. Nothing major but enough to make him feel self-conscious. He felt even more self-conscious about it, when a few months after that, a few pounds heavier still and he had to attend a family reunion where he was going to see relatives he hadn’t seen in years. 

Recently single, nursing a broken heart and heavier than he’d ever been, he wanted some moral support, and so, he asked if I’d join him. Of course, I agreed. I mean seriously, who could refuse such a tempting invitation.

The day finally arrived and although Ben was looking forward to seeing everyone, he was still feeling really embarrassed that he didn’t look as trim as he had the last time everyone got together. Because I knew this was how he felt, I couldn’t believe what happened once we’d arrived and started mingling. With every new relative Ben would say hello to, something very odd would happen. Rather than not mention his weight, which would have perhaps been the most obvious thing to do especially considering he was feeling so uncomfortable about it, plus, I doubt very much anyone else would’ve even noticed Bens slightly expanded waistline, he did the total opposite. Every time Ben said hello to a different member of his extended family, just as quickly, he extended a self-berating comment about the extra few pounds he was carrying these days. They were barely able to ask him how he was doing before Ben had blurted out, how much weight he’d gained and how fat he was ‘but otherwise, all good mate, thanks,’ he’d conclude with a smile. It was like an involuntary reaction; he couldn’t seem to stop himself from adding a self-deprecating warning message telling everyone how ‘fat’ he’d become.

I was horrified. And it was becoming increasingly difficult to watch my friend, shaming himself in this way.

I was just about to pull Ben to one side, to try and save him from himself when, suddenly, I had a moment of awakening.  ‘Oh my god’ I thought, ‘I get it.’

Standing there, listening to Ben fat shaming himself, I suddenly realised, why I was finding it so unbearable to watch, and it wasn’t just seeing my friend say these unkind things about himself. It was because, suddenly, I recognised Ben’s behaviour in my own. I suddenly realised I had behaved in the exact same way. Not about my weight but about my writing.

A few years earlier, when my first book was published, and just to make clear it’s a book I was and still am incredibly proud of, when anyone would ask me about it, one of the first things out of my mouth, like verbal diarrhoea, would come, some self-deprecating warning message about the book’s limitations, and therefore, my limitations as a writer and as a creative being.

Someone would only need to ask, ‘So, what’s the book called, then?’

 I would tell them, but then without even thinking, certainly without planning to, and definitely without any invitation to, I would bolt on my very own Creative Caveat, ‘…it’s really only a piece of very silly chick lit’.

And there it was.

Not only was I doing a disservice to myself as a writer, but I was also accidently bringing down all the brilliant writers and storytellers who specialise in this genre and somehow managing to bring down the entire genre with me too.

Good going!

What was I doing? But more importantly, why was I doing it?

I was caveating my own creative work and abilities by bolting on unnecessary warning messages, to manage other people’s expectations of my creative work and abilities – setting that bar so low, I might, if I were lucky be able to hobble over it.  My creative caveat was apparently not just ‘letting him beware’ it was ‘letting everyone beware’, beware that my book was basically total rubbish.

Now, I am someone who identifies as being creative. I’ve held onto my seat at the creative table and really enjoy sitting there. Throughout my career, using and expressing my creativity has been a constant requirement and I am confident in doing so. Except, my career, up until that point, had never included being a novelist with a published book on my hands – a book that was suddenly available to anyone on the planet who had access to the internet and the inclination and money to buy it. Up until then, my creative writing had only ever been for me. It was a long-standing relationship with my creativity, one that was personal, intimate, and precious to me and something I rarely shared with anyone, and then suddenly, it was available to everyone!

Don’t get me wrong, I wanted the book to be published, I’d actively pursued it, and naturally I was thrilled about it. I was also in very new creative territory and out of my comfort zone. My writing, and therefore myself as a writer, thanks to this book, suddenly had the potential for exposure I’d never experienced before. Being exposed made me vulnerable to other people’s opinions, feedback, criticism and ultimately their judgement, of something that mattered deeply to me, my writing, and the idea I had of myself as a writer. Or at least, wanted to have.

Of course, I was terrified.

As I stood there watching my good friend Ben that day, I suddenly understood what we were both doing and why we were doing it. And I realised in that moment, it was for the exact same reason.

Self-protection.

In a bid to protect ourselves from other people’s judgement and control something we had absolutely no control over, counterintuitive as it might be, Ben and I had both turned on ourselves instead.  To avoid other people picking fault in something that mattered to us, we both discredited ourselves before anyone else had the chance to do it for us. We were protecting ourselves by taking control of the narrative.

Here’s the thing though, when we care about something, even a well-crafted caveat won’t protect us from other people’s judgement.   

Creative caveats won’t protect us from having our creativity rejected, our feelings hurt, our hopes crushed. Not everyone will love, like, appreciate, approve or even care about the creative work we put out into the world. And that’s okay. If we want to use and contribute our creativity, it has to be okay. However uncomfortable, anxiety-inducing and exposing it might be, we have to be able to own our creativity, be that our creative identity, voice, or expressions, and not make excuses and apologies for them, turning against ourselves by using language that destroys them.

Because what begins as self-protection quietly becomes one of the most effective blocks between us and our creativity.

The good news, if language can create a block around our creativity, then language can also be the place where we begin to loosen that block. If we stop caveating our creativity and instead start using and choosing language that serves our creativity and protects our creative potential.

Otherwise, the only thing our creative caveats will truly serve and protect, are the blocks they represent, blocks that will only stand in your way.

By the way, my book is called Which Way to Happiness, it’s rude, sweary, and very funny.

As for Ben, he didn’t lose the extra weight, he did find a gorgeous new girlfriend.

Neither of us needed the caveats

And your creativity doesn’t need one either.