The articulation of human experience is your job.
It is your whole job as an artist.
(thus said my inner Nanny to me last night)
Well … that’s almost your whole job.
The other part is sharing it.
Don’t roll your eyes at me. Remember … I’m inside your head, they’re always rolled as far as I’m concerned. But listen – I get it. You think they should just give you accolades. They. Should. Because you’re so great. Because you’re an artist. You shouldn’t have to do the work of sharing.
Well, get over it, you big baby.
Advocating and supporting YOUR voice is your job.
The voice YOU were given.
Good, bad, beautiful, brash, weird, classic, out-of-style, in-style, devoid of style.
You are the only one who can raise your voice, who can speak for it in the world.
The things you love, the angels you hear.
Your whole job as an artist is to articulate your human experience, share your vision, raise your voice.
So do it.
Fame is irrelevant in terms of your job. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. It may affect your life or not, but it’s irrelevant to your job. Which is to pass the baton of human experience — to the one person who needs your utterly personal insight, your absolutely unique articulation – so they can take their own next step, utter their own next articulation.
This you give to one single person at a time.
And each single person is equally as important as each other single person.
And one single person is equal in value to ten million.
There is no ‘greater’ or ‘lesser,’ no ‘fewer’ or ‘more, no ‘bigger’ or ‘smaller.’
The value of sharing human experience is absolute.
Even if you, yourself, are the one person who truly hears your voice, the one whose next step is revealed … you have done your job.
Last week on NPR – somewhere, some time – I heard a writer say, “Yes, well, every writer is looking to articulate the human experience.” I grabbed a pen and wrote it down … and that illuminated one next step for me.