Have You Had “The Conversation?”

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Yesterday, I sent out 2012's first edition of The Conversation to more than 500 Creatives across the globe. Lately, a lot of people have asked me, "What is The Conversation?" There are a couple of different answers.

The first answer goes back to December of 2010 when I wrote an essay called “Have You Had The Conversation?” that went viral on LinkedIn, Twitter, Quora and Facebook. I was completely surprised and unprepared by the attention that essay received, and I quickly learned from that experience that there was a demand out there for an effective resource to help Creatives build better businesses. About a month after the essay was published online, I officially announced The Conversation Project, which initially was just a group of people who responded personally to me about the essay. About 120 people. After the first issue of the resource—about 20 days later—the number fell to 58 people. But I kept writing The Conversation and sending it out to the people on the list, and now, a year later, the community of subscribers has grown to more than 500 actors, composers, screenwriters, directors, DPs, painters, songwriters, producers, and various other creatively oriented folk. Of those people, 219 of them are either Oscar®, Emmy®, or Grammy®-winning artists.

Another answer is that The Conversation is the most successful mentoring project I've ever launched. But, I thought you were a composer? What about that? What about SCOREcast? That's pretty successful. Uh, yeah... I know. That's what I'm thinking, too! I do a lot of stuff. But here's the deal: I am a composer. I do that every day. It's my life and my bread and butter, and it's what motivates me to get out of bed every morning, crank up the Musicave and create. The Conversation simply would not exist were it not for my composing career. But, The Conversation took off unexpectedly—once I made the choice to go at it hard, the thing literally came alive like I never dreamed it would. If I were to tell you about all the connections that we've been able to create for the people subscribing to The Conversation, you'd fall over. I've hooked producers and directors up with each other, I've hooked paint artists and art magazine writers up with each other... I even hooked up a boutique restaurant owner with a gal who does "food modeling"—she makes food look tantalizing in advertising. The relationships built through The Conversation have been incredible, and that's just what we've been able to do behind the scenes.

For those of you who have yet to check it out, here is the very first issue of The Conversation—the one that started it all way backin January 2011. Many have requested I publicly publish an example of what you get with your subscription, so I figured this would be a great example. I never ask for retweets or shares, but today I'm making an exception. Please share this around on Twitter, Facebook, Google+, or LinkedIN, if you would. If you have someone in your life who you think would benefit from this resource, please share this post by emailing the link [http://tinyurl.com/havetheconversation] directly to them. The Conversation community is a strong one—full of name artists, several of whom have done work that a lot of us have followed or admired over the years. For many, that is worth the price of admission right there. That piece alone could have far-reaching benefits for an artist looking to broaden his or her creative horizons, as long as a willingness to have The Conversation exists within themselves... Enjoy!

What Is "The Conversation?"

There are some Creatives who have zero difficulty believing that they'll find success doing whatever they put their mind to. I know, because I am one. Your art and your work come at no expense to you mentally, physically, or emotionally, and you have a unique and uncanny ability to produce creative content until you simply tire of doing so. In other words, you can turn it on and off at will, and you have a deep creative well. There is nothing and nobody dictating whether you turn out creative product in your day-to-day or not. You are the master or mistress of your domain. You are your own boss. You write your own ticket.

The other group of Creatives have a harder time convincing themselves that they are, by any stretch of the imagination, good at what they do. Again, I know, because I am one of those, also! The people in your life affirm your ambitions, but the voices in your head take a different tone. You struggle to see yourself as legitimate in your industry because you aren't sure you possess any of the hard-line relationships necessary to get you a seat at the adult table. Worse yet, maybe you struggle to stay in the positive frame of mind necessary for you to ever be considered for the adult table to begin with. You have, as they say, an inferiority complex. You feel like you are stuck. With nobody in your corner that truly—and I mean truly—understands your creative passions, you are left to your own self-talk: a recycled mess of constant doubt, worry, and frustration.

No matter which group you fall into, though, at some level all Creatives wonder if we will be able to maintain our success over time. It is a fear that plagues even the most prolific creative people. Best-selling author Stephen King refers to this as the "predicament of possibility": a theory of the mind that begs the question, "I know I am talented, but am I talented enough to build a secure and fulfilling future with my craft?" You see this phenomenon at work all over the place once you dither it down into such simple framing.

Ultimately, what it boils down to is facing the reality of your creative and artistic limitations. There has to be a "conversation" that takes place between you and yourself—an honest and open exchange—where you ask whether you truly do have the ability to step up and bring the pain. For example, I've read that Nicolas Cage's philosophy about working is to take everything he can, because he's never certain what will be successful and what won't be. While completely understandable, it's an interesting approach in that it sort of explains the glut of projects that Cage is seemingly always involved in: One minute he's turning in an Oscar-worthy performance (Leaving Las Vegas), and the next he's running around saving witches from being burned at the stake in a moronic medieval B-movie (Season of the Witch). George Clooney, on the other hand, does it differently. Clooney has stated in interviews that he won't take just any role. Instead, he carefully weighs out what he feels he is best suited for and then chooses according to his particular proven talents. While this might seem a little bit like he's removing some of the creativity from the equation, you could also say that he's using his internal "conversation" in a positive way to provide for his own well-being. Said another way, Clooney understands his strengths, he understands his weaknesses, and knowing what he knows about the business of entertainment, he makes choices he believes will help him support his success over time. He is not starring in everything just to stay afloat, Instead, he is playing to his strengths as an actor and keeping his limitations in mind. He's had The Conversation. Finally, clear at the other end of the spectrum, the typical American Idol contestant doesn't give enough credence to the reality of their limitations, and in fact, sometimes doesn't consider them at all. They often fail to have the "come to Jesus" moment that is always necessary when reaching the point of sink or swim in creative life. Consequently, they proceed under the false impression that they have what it takes to make it, and often waste valuable time pursuing something that will most likely never pay off for them. In their case, The Conversation could save them a lot of hurt and heartache, should they get honest enough with themselves to have it at all in the first place.

Have You Had "The Conversation?"

For Creatives, The Conversation is imperative. It is pretty much a non-negotiable. It is like the pinnacle "Oh shit!" moment that really separates you from the rest of the pack. It comes from the absolute most honest place in your being—the same place that hurts when you know you've royally messed something up. It comes when you realize that it's time to either crank up the heat and get serious, or seriously get the hell out of the kitchen. It's an epiphany; an event; a pivotal moment. Some might call it "a gut check", but to me, that's not even doing it justice. For a true Creative, The Conversation is the stark realization that your well of creativity—the one that you've oh-so-carefully cultivated and attended to all these years—is your only ticket to finding genuine happiness and personal satisfaction or bliss in your life. As Creatives, we know that anything less than a full-bore quest to get up every day and run within your passions in this life would be a futile pursuit. When I started composing full-time, I remember quietly repeating to myself, "If this doesn't work, I'm essentially screwed." If you are anything like me, you never gave yourself room for doing anything else at an expert level, and the things that you know how to do "good enough" are so soul-sucking that the thought of doing them as a career makes suicide seem like a plausible option. That's The Conversation.

Dare I say that there is a group of people who simply will never let go of their inevitably failing dreams because they have never given themselves the gut-check by having The Conversation. I'd love to be the cheerleader on the court of your career, rooting you on to absolute victory, but I can't be. Sure, I can offer advise or give an encouraging word, but I cannot challenge you in your pursuits if those pursuits are inherently misguided. And how do I know that they are? Well... I don't. But you do, if you've had The Conversation— if you have gotten scathingly and unsentimentally honest with yourself and looked deep to discover whether you actually have the skills to pay the bills, and then acted accordingly.

Have you had The Conversation? If not, there isn't really anywhere for us to go from here. However, if you have, tell me about it. I want to hear the story of how you realized you were meant for this.

Until next time...
DO

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Deane Ogden