Every single new thing we do – everything – brings up fears, teaches lessons, and leaves us with gifts.

Whether we are climbing Everest or going to a party, taking up salsa dancing or singing a solo, this is all part of the package.  It’s a package that leaves us different than we were:  expanded, a little more resilient, and with luck, a little more likely to embark upon other firsts.

My recent first has been running a crowd-sourcing campaign for my new CD, “Songs of the Poets.”  Almost a year ago, I read Amanda Palmer’s amazing and heartfelt book, The Art of Asking, and it planted a seed.  Could I undertake such a thing, I wondered, to ask my friends for financial help to release my music?  Sure, I’ve contributed to many campaigns by friends and strangers – but it’s a vastly different thing to do this yourself.

Here’s something that’s not surprising:  It’s kind of scary.

In late June a gust of wind bellied my sails and I created the bones of a GoFundMe campaign for the CD.  I invented reward levels, chose a goal, uploaded a photograph of the CD cover, and Voila!  The campaign existed and all that remained was for me to hit “publish” and share it with my family and friends.  And then without warning, I got very busy.  Very busy.

I was so busy that it was impossible to push “publish.”  That 30-second task was too lengthy and strenuous for me until the middle of September, some two and a half  months later.  I didn’t think much about it while I was avoiding the task.  But when I finally wriggled into an emotional posture favorable to getting on with it, I understood that what had stopped for all that time was fear, plain and simple.  What if people think I’m:  arrogant, greedy, ridiculous, stupid, unlovable, nervy, cheeky, and terrible?  And underneath that:  Who in blazes do I think I am?  What if I really am all those terrible things I fear people will think I am?  What if asking means – confirms – that to be true?

So it took a while to get around to that 30-second task.  That accounts for the bulk of the fear in this new venture.  Here are some of the lessons and gifts:

Obligation is a great incentive to keep going.  OK, so I may have misled you a little bit.  Not all of the fear exists before launching the campaign.  There’s still some fear afterwards, just angled slightly differently.  These wonderful, generous people have entrusted me with their faith and their funds.  I can’t bear to let them down.  And I want them to have their CDs and prizes soon.  That means that instead of letting fear of finishing hobble me for a couple of months, I am moving forwards more swiftly.  Without the psychic presence of these beloved supporters, I might amble along and launch this CD sometime next April, say.  It’s easy to stall when no one’s waiting.

Of course, this is an illusion.  The truth is, someone very important is always waiting:  YOU.  And also: YOUR WORK.  But man, what an incentive not to dawdle when the community is gathered around you asking, politely and with love:  When will it be ready, Kate?

You become loyal to the work itself.  After a fast start that brought in a bit more than half of my goal, the contributions stopped for about a day.  I’d been amazed and even stunned by those first contributions, by the sum mounting on the campaign page.  When the number stopped climbing, I thought briefly, “Well, this is wonderful just as it is!  You’re so lucky to have raised this, Kate.  You can quit now.”

That is an old, polished thought of mine:  you’re lucky to get even a little bit.  Don’t ask for too much.  (Perhaps you know this one?)

But later that day, another thought announced itself.  “This work deserves a chance to be heard in the world.  Poetry matters.  These songs matter.  Go to bat for the work.”  And I did.  I sent out a letter to people I thought would want to know about the campaign.  I created a video with a story about one of the poems.  I stirred the pot – and yes, the contributions started to flow back in.

Loyalty to the work is a good start, but loyalty to yourself is the real destination.   Because like so many other people I have been inculcated with extreme modesty about my abilities, it is MUCH easier for me to hold the banner of “Poetry” than it is for me to hold the banner of “Kate.”  And truly, with all my heart, I revere poetry and the freedom and joy it brings into the world. I’m honored to my toes to be a voice for poetry.

But this project has taught me that as an advocate for and practitioner of poetry, music, and art, and as a creator who also lives to spread freedom, creativity, vitality, and joy, I deserve my own loyalty as well.  And the form that loyalty takes is holding steady to my vision even when I’m scared, and, in this case, having the courage to ask for support to help me manifest that vision in the world.  At first, it was easier to say that I was asking for help launching a beautiful and worthy CD, but now I see that I was ALSO asking for help to support the Kate who is herself a beautiful and worthy artist and person.  This is a long journey, dear friends, and I am still making it.  But – wow.

Exercising that courage opens amazing new vistas.  I’ve been truly surprised by the influx of inspiration and new ideas since I reached my goal.  There are practical ideas about how to fulfill my “campaign promises.”  There is excitement about going into the schools to share songs and stories and hopefully to kindle some poetry love among young people.  And almost the very day that I reached the goal, I understood in a flash that my next project will involve working with orchestral instruments.  Truth be told, this has been my heart’s desire for a long time – but only now that I have exercised this courage and been met with incredible, tears-of-joy inducing generosity have I been able to allow myself to truly feel and acknowledge that desire.

What’s possible seems… more possible!  The horizon looks brighter. My dreams have a wider field in which to unfurl their shimmering wings.

You will feel part of a web of love and support in a way that you never dreamed possible.  I weep, writing those words because I feel the healing that has occurred.

I know that every creator has a history of hurts that run like a shadow under the bright history of joy and creation.  A long time ago, someone I love said to me, “No one wants to hear your songs, Kate.”  (Please don’t blame this person who is beloved and, like all of us, also nursing wounds that lead us to say things like this).  While I have spent years making songs and performing since that remark, it has lived in me like a virus, rearing its head when I am scared or tired, stopping me sometimes from dancing out into the light with all the joy and delight of a whole-hearted Maker.

Stepping forwards and asking for support for my project and for myself, and being met with love, generosity, welcome, smiles, kindness, and support of ALL kinds – well, all of this I hold aloft as shining evidence that someone does want to hear my songs.  That someone (and lots of wonderful, dear someone’s) believes I am a Maker worth supporting.    And that in the lovely dance of inward to make and outward to share, someone is waiting with a smile and a kind word for the fruits of my labor and love.  This is the most wonderful gift in the world!

 

Reader, let me encourage you here.  If you are playing with the idea of running a crowd-sourcing campaign, put a date on the calendar, create the campaign, and launch it.  Yes, you will be scared.  But you will also gain far more than the funds to launch your project.  There is a wider horizon waiting on the other side, and more work to do that is beautiful and worth doing.  We ARE part of a web of love and creativity.  You belong here with us.  Weave your strand.  Shine your light.  And if I can help in any way, drop me a line at kate@katechadbourne.com and I will gladly send some sparks your way!