That Creative Retreat Sounds Really Cool

But I'm not a Real [Artist] [Writer] [Photographer] [Musician]

Oh, I'm not a real painter. I just do this for fun.

Sure, I write. A long time ago, I wanted to be a writer, but you know how it is, life happened. So, yeah, I still write, but I'm not an actual writer.

Your retreats look amazing. I'd love to do something like that, but it's not for me. I mean, maybe someday it will be, when I'm good enough to call myself a real musician.

We've all heard things like this. Maybe you’ve even heard some version of this come out of your own mouth or rattle through your brain.

Artist. Writer. Musician. Poet. Painter. Playwright. Composer.

These are such simple words, but they loom so large in the minds of people who have some kind of creative practice but do not yet feel entitled to claim them.

Having started advertising our first retreats, we’ve been hearing this kind of thing a lot here at the Grove. We say our retreats are for “working creators” and for “creators who have an active creative practice,” but, given the number of people who don’t feel 'real' enough to attend such a retreat, it’s clear we need to talk about this. So let’s talk about what we believe it means for someone to be a ‘real’ artist, painter, musician, whatever.

Before we do that, I want to take a little side trip to another word: Skier.

I bring this word up because I ski. I actually ski pretty well. My preferred slopes are bumps, steeps, trees in the powder, or (if all else fails) zooming down a groomer. About a million years ago, I used to be a ski instructor. For me, skiing is a joy and something I actively work at. Every day I ski, I'm working on becoming better at it. But, let's be honest. While I'm good at skiing, I'm not great. I'm not leaping off cliffs or flipping off jumps or winning races. Also, it's not my job or, aside from those few seasons of teaching, something I ever pursued professionally.

So, here's the question: Am I a 'real' skier?

When I say that, it sounds ridiculous. Of course I am. I know perfectly well I'm not in the same universe of skill as, say, Mikaela Shiffrin or Lindsay Vonn. That said, I feel no hesitation about claiming the title of 'skier.' To be clear, I also wouldn't hesitate to apply that term to someone who is far less adept than I am on the slopes.

So what’s going on here? Why do titles like artist, actor, writer, whatever, feel so much harder to claim? (To be clear, I struggle with this myself.)

To explore this, let me pose a question. Since I'm a writer, I'll put it in terms of that medium, but you could easily substitute any medium you want.

Here's the question: Where do we draw the line that separates 'real' writers from everyone else? Am I a 'real' writer if I make a living in some other career? Am I a 'real' writer if I've only published a few short stories? Am I a 'real' writer if I self-publish? Am I 'real' writer if I write romance/sci fi/middle-grade fiction/experimental fiction? Am I a real writer if… Honestly, we could go on forever like this, so let’s stop and really ask the question: Where are we going to draw that sacred line of realness?

‘Realness,’ in one form or another, is actually the subject of many stories¹. In thinking about this topic, I re-stumbled into The Velveteen Rabbit (by Margery Williams), and it gave me a path forward with this question that I want to share. Here's the relevant excerpt:

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. … "It doesn't happen all at once…You become."

Since reading this the other night, this word, become, has stayed with me, and I want to propose something here. What if the thing that separates those who are 'real' from those who aren’t is actually just that word: become? What if the thing that makes us 'real' in any particular way is not some threshold of success but is rather that we are working on becoming that thing? In other words, what if the very act of practicing to be something is what makes us become it?

For me, this works with skiing. I'm a skier because, when I go skiing, I don't just throw myself downhill (obviously, because no one does that). Rather, I practice. The same is true when I write. I don't just vomit words out on the page and walk away. I think about them. I revise. I read craft books and attend classes. I ask people for feedback. I even listen to the feedback. These are, of course, the activities of practice, of becoming a writer.

So where does this leave us relative to the question we started with? When we say our retreats are for 'artists' or 'writers' or whatever, who do we mean?

Here’s our answer: We believe that what makes you an artist, a writer, a creator of any kind, is being engaged in the practice of that creative path. Our entire model is centered around creative process, around becoming--not around specific markers of achievement or success. In short, if you’re working on becoming a writer, a painter, a singer, a performer, a whatever, then you’re exactly the kind of person who belongs at our retreats.

So let's do this. Come have a look at what we’re doing! Come join us. Let’s become together.

And, as always, if you have any thoughts on this, we’d love to have you drop a comment!

1. There is SO MUCH storytelling out there about what it means to be 'real.' Think Pinocchio, humanoid robots like Ishiguro's Klara (of Klara and the Sun), Greek demigods, Frankenstein, and a thousand different mythic 'species' that tread the line between human/not human (leprechauns, anyone?). It is as if we have some sort of collective imposter syndrome about our very existence. Or, put in a less sardonic light, I think this question of 'realness' is a fundamental part of being human. It is a question I never want to stop exploring right up until my last breath.