Pursue Your Art
Not getting paid is less costly than suppressing a deep-held desire
Hey, it’s Alexandra. Welcome to my weekly newsletter where I share my latest reflections on professional development & well-being.
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This week, I’m sharing:
The cost of not pursuing your art
A cool way to expand your mind & vocabulary
Why every dream is a stepping stone to another dream
☕️ Read time: 5 mins (best with tea or coffee)
Last Tuesday, I stumbled upon a gem in Librairie Bertrand, the bookstore around the corner from where I work in Old Montreal. Astutely described as “visually stunning and enlightening” I concur this “must-have book for Coelho fans” is indeed a “treasure.”
The book is a curation of quotes on love from various works of Coelho’s and I opted for the French version rather than my native English for two reasons. First and foremost, French is widely regarded as the language of love given its euphonic nature and its roots in romantic culture. (So it was a no-brainer in that regard.)
Secondly, reading great writing in your second language feels even more poetic than reading it in your first. Each language has unique words and phrases that can’t be conveyed in others. Spotting those nuances is a very cool experience—one that enhances your understanding of the world.
But it’s not just reading in a non-native language that expands your mind and vocabulary. Writing in other languages is equally powerful. Writer Brigitte Kratz elaborates on this:
“I read in a few languages, but what’s particularly been interesting for me recently was reading a couple of books by authors who chose to write in a second, non-native language.”
Brigitte shared a side-by-side comparison of Pulitzer Prize-winning author Jhumpa Lahiri’s original writing in non-native Italian with an English translation below:
Cool, right? (Also, the anchor-fashioned placeholder is amazing, just saying.)
I can see why writers would exercise their expression in other languages. It’s similar to drawing inspiration from one field of work to another—a mix of comparing and contrasting is guaranteed to produce all kinds of innovations.
Curation & Compilation
Coelho’s book serves as inspiration for how I want to compile a book of my own. In terms of how I visualize the process, I want to curate the best stories and lessons I’ve written about to date and then refine and expand them to create an overall flow.
As of today, I’ve been writing weekly posts on Substack for 123 weeks. It’s been far from “easy as 1-2-3” considering I’ve only taken a two-week hiatus in that time when I burnt out last summer (I wrote about this in a post called Burnout & The Paradox of Giving Up).
But on the other hand, there has been an easiness to putting in the effort each week. Whether it’s been flowing through hours on end during weeks when my schedule was lighter, or scrambling to find pockets of time over weekends and outside of work, I’ve crossed “the publish line” a whopping 123 times because I was intrinsically motivated to.
And despite how much effort has gone into my weekly writing, it’s given me more than it’s taken. I wrote about this in the 100th edition of my newsletter—80-Year-Olds & The Perspectives They've Gifted Me—and the reply below was one of my favourites:
My Most Prominent Pursuit
As far as “pursuing my art” goes, writing is my most prominent pursuit. Like I said, I plan to write a book someday (I wrote about this in a recent newsletter aptly titled Book Dreams).
But when I think about it, it’s less of a dream at this point and more of a plan. I know it’ll happen because I want it to and I know I’m capable of it. I attribute a huge part of that to doing the legwork with my newsletter. My newsletter is my ongoing sketch pad enriched with replies from readers. In addition to building my writing and editing muscles, my weekly output has been instrumental in building my confidence as a writer.
Plus, when the time comes to create my book, I’m excited to choose colours, textures, formats, and other elements of design that will give my writing more magnitude.
Compelled to Create
I love this wisdom from “Pathless Path” power couple
and on the need to pursue your art:“[…] Angie needs to work on this book. For our family to thrive and for us to build the life we want, we need Angie to pursue her art. It matters to her and because of that, it matters to me. I’m so excited about what she’s doing, committing to something without a clear end in sight.”
It’s easy to fall into the trap of “If I’m not getting paid, I should focus on something else.” But energy and fulfillment come from embracing what you feel compelled to create. So as long as you can support yourself while pursuing your art, why wouldn’t you?
Not getting paid is less costly than suppressing a deep-held desire to create or perform. The latter will leave you frustrated and full of regret. Plus just because you don’t have a plan (or an interest) to monetize your art now, doesn’t mean opportunities won’t crop up in the future.
I don’t have any grand plans for how to make money off a book, but I know I have to write one and that’s reason enough for me. It’s something I feel compelled to do. And even if I didn’t make a cent, the experience would serve me tenfold across various areas of my life. So why wouldn’t I?
Ultimately, the beauty of pursuing your art is you wind up falling in love with the journey rather than the destination and that framing enhances how you approach every other area of your life.
A Gentleman’s Travels
Back in January, Irish writer Dylano shared this brilliant example of pursuing your art for reasons other than financial gain:
“My neighbour wrote a 600 page book about his life, printed six copies for his family, and that's it.”
I salute Sir James (and yes, I’m anointing him “Sir” as anyone classy enough to produce a book of this quality and casually hand it out to six lucky people is top tier in my book—pun fully intended). I love that he went all out with an elegant hardcover and embedded bookmark, not to mention a regal colour scheme (gold for gold as far as I’m concerned).
Imagine if we all did this—captured our greatest adventures and most profound life lessons to share with our loved ones. Our words would live on, passed down through generations in our families. It’s a boss move when you think about it.
Photo albums are great but there’s so much left unsaid. I would’ve loved to have read something like this from any one of my grandparents (or hell, their grandparents). It would’ve been cool to have more stories about them to learn from and relate to.
Dreams Do Come True
Someone asked me recently how I could tell with so much certainty that I would make my dream of writing a book come true someday. I immediately thought back to this post I wrote nearly two years ago, in May 2022, called Dreams Do Come True.
In it, I shared how one Friday afternoon in August 2019, I met a friend for lunch at Créatures—the rooftop restaurant at Galeries Lafayette in Paris. Here’s a photo of our view that day:
As we casually sipped champagne between bites of fine French food, we naturally got on the topic of how lucky we were to live in Paris. It was a dream come true.
But my path to realizing that dream was paved through the realization of other dreams along the way. Take, for instance, my first backpacking trip around Europe at age twenty, or my first overseas move (to London) at twenty-four.
Years before I made either of those dreams come true, they had felt like mere wishes with no likelihood of happening. But as I grew up and started putting myself out there more, taking bolder risks in the process, my world opened up—inviting me to tread those pathways.
Fast forward to twenty-eight, and I applied for my job in Paris when my Australian work visa was nearing expiration. I wanted the job so bad. I remember my Aussie roommate-turned-soul-sister Alana telling me:
“Believe that you already have the job. Imagine yourself walking into the office. That’s how you manifest it.”
So that’s what I did. I visualized myself walking into the Parisian office from halfway across the world based on a grainy photo I’d seen on Google Maps. I told myself I was going to get the job—that I was going to live in Paris. That’s when something shifted.
I decided I was going to live in Paris—whether or not I got the job was irrelevant. Getting the job was my hope and my ideal scenario, but if the offer didn’t come through, I would apply for more jobs once I got there. That was the new plan.
I ended up getting the job. But looking back, my decision to not be deterred by rejection was my ultimate ticket to Paris. That’s something I think about a lot—especially when I’m gearing up to sprint toward another dream.
Thanks for reading and have a wonder-full week,
💛 Like or comment if you enjoyed this edition.
☕️ Let me know if you visit Montreal & we can grab coffee or tea.
A very inspirational newsletter. You have nailed it,
I love this! We can have a dream, and we can also not know how it will manifest.