The War of Art

authentic in front of them, scared of writing what he really feels or believes, what he himself thinks is interesting. He’s afraid it won’t sell. So he tries to anticipate what the market (a telling word) wants, then gives it to them.
     
    In other words, the hack writes hierarchically. He writes what he imagines will play well in the eyes of others. He does not ask himself, What do I myself want to write? What do I think is important? Instead he asks, What’s hot, what can I make a deal for?
     
    The hack is like the politician who consults the polls before he takes a position. He’s a demagogue. He panders.
     
    It can pay off, being a hack. Given the depraved state of American culture, a slick dude can make millions being a hack. But even if you succeed, you lose, because you’ve sold out your Muse, and your Muse is you, the best part of yourself, where your finest and only true work comes from.
     
    I was starving as a screenwriter when the idea for The Legend of Bagger Vance came to me. It came as a book, not a movie. I met with my agent to give him the bad news. We both knew that first novels take forever and sell for nothing. Worse, a novel about golf, even if we could find a publisher, is a straight shot to the remainder bin.
     
    But the Muse had me. I had to do it. To my amazement, the book succeeded critically and commercially better than anything I’d ever done, and others since have been lucky too. Why? My best guess is this: I trusted what I wanted, not what I thought would work. I did what I myself thought was interesting, and left its reception to the gods.
     
    The artist can’t do his work hierarchically. He has to work territorially.

 
    THE TERRITORIAL ORIENTATION
    ----
     
    There’s a three-legged coyote who lives up the hill from me. All the garbage cans in the neighborhood belong to him. It’s his territory. Every now and then some four-legged intruder tries to take over. They can’t do it. On his home turf, even a peg-leg critter is invincible.
     
    We humans have territories too. Ours are psychological. Stevie Wonder’s territory is the piano. Arnold Schwarzenegger’s is the gym. When Bill Gates pulls into the parking lot at Microsoft, he’s on his territory. When I sit down to write, I’m on mine.
     
    What are the qualities of a territory?
     
    1) A territory provides sustenance . Runners know what a territory is. So do rock climbers and kayakers and yogis. Artists and entrepreneurs know what a territory is. The swimmer who towels off after finishing her laps feels a helluva lot better than the tired, cranky person who dove into the pool thirty minutes earlier.
     
    2) A territory sustains us without any external input . A territory is a closed feedback loop. Our role is to put in effort and love; the territory absorbs this and gives it back to us in the form of well-being.
     
    When experts tell us that exercise (or any other effort-requiring activity) banishes depression, this is what they mean.
     
    3) A territory can only be claimed alone . You can team with a partner, you can work out with a friend, but you only need yourself to soak up your territory’s juice.
     
    4) A territory can only be claimed by work . When Arnold Schwarzenegger hits the gym, he’s on his own turf. But what made it his own are the hours and years of sweat he put in to claim it. A territory doesn’t give, it gives back.
     
    5) A territory returns exactly what you put in . Territories are fair. Every erg of energy you put in goes infallibly into your account. A territory never devalues. A territory never crashes. What you deposited, you get back, dollar-for-dollar.
     
    What’s your territory?

 
     
    THE ARTIST AND THE TERRITORY
    ----
     
    The act of creation is by definition territorial. As the mother-to-be bears her child within her, so the artist or innovator contains her new life. No one can help her give it birth. But neither does she need any help.
     
    The mother and the artist are watched over by heaven. Nature’s wisdom knows when it’s time for the life within to switch from gills to lungs. It knows down to the nanosecond when the first tiny fingernails may appear.
     
    When the artist acts hierarchically, she short-circuits the Muse. She insults her and pisses her off.
     
    The artist and the mother are vehicles, not originators. They don’t create the new life, they only bear it. This is why birth is such a humbling experience. The new mom weeps in awe at the little miracle