Turn the beat around, sang Gloria Estefan. Advice can come from anywhere. The desire to create isn’t the same as the desire to have created. What slows the making of things to put into the world (I should probably start capitalizing that phrase soon, as a trope) is the need to stay safe. The wish that people will like us and the things we do, and more so, that they won’t laugh at us, sneer at us, post snark at us on social media. It’s not a positive thing, the drumbeat resisting creation. But thinking of it another way, it can be a reminder to keep working.

We don’t get stronger sitting at home doing nothing. We have to push weights around, lift weary legs a hundred thousand times above the street. We have to keep getting up after being knocked down. It sucks. But without the beat hammering at us to not make a thing we desire, it’s just a meandering existence punctuated by nights spent dreaming. We make the beat useful instead of being crushed by it, and ally with it to keep turning it around. I feel like this is all airy fluffiness, so I might rather go even farther and end with a poem.

Pushing full force against the
Worst north wind of the same sane and
Sober words, cold, thin, baseless,
Chasing the same misplaced thought:
Make aimless forms unnamed to dazzle.

Crashed again and exhausted,
Too like apes who have coughed up a
Reason why those men wasted
Place and their time, why they wrought
Great changing, soaring famous castles.