Idea Debt and Redemption

Go On Love, by Alison Moncrieff

Over the weekend, I visited my friend Alison Moncrieff‘s open studio art space on both Saturday and Sunday.  I am so grateful for such a friend and also her example of creative dedication and generosity.

(She has two more days of open studios next weekend if you are reading this before June 9th and 10th, 2018 and are anywhere near Oakland, CA)

When he saw me for the second day in a row, her husband laughed and said that I might be a groupie and yes I definitely am one. Her paintings are deep and provocative. They are also gorgeous and hauntingly familiar.  I enjoyed hanging out with her and her paintings and seeing new things emerge.   One idea that Alison threw out there in one of the conversations in her art space was “idea debt.” The topic of conversation changed but that sounded familiar. I think she may have mentioned it to me before.

Over the two visits to her space, I met a few of her friends and another neighbor and we shared thoughts about creativity, inner critics, fear, enneagrams, friendship, and community.  Later, Bun Bun the black rabbit nestled on her 11-year-old daughter’s lap.

Later that night, I looked up “idea debt” and found an explanation by author Jessica Abel:

“Idea Debt is when you spend too much time picturing what a project is going to be like, too much time thinking about how awesome it will be to have this thing done and in the world, too much time imagining how cool you will look, how in demand you’ll be, how much money you’ll make. And way too little time actually making the thing.”

Abel credits the graphic novel author and illustrator Kazu Kibuishi with the idea. I appreciate Kibuishi for taking the time to define a phenomenon I know very well.  I have been equally collecting, birthing and hoarding words and ideas for stories for decades. Yes, I have shared stories and poems written over the years in workshops and classes, birthdays and open mics. But there are unrevised poems and stories stuffed in boxes and drawers. There are piles of journals. Some I’ve relegated to the flames after spending time searching for the best ideas that I could transfer to another journal. Others lay dormant within the confines of Google Docs, NaNoWriMo and Penzo. These abandoned paragraphs, in a Frankensteinian twist, have indebted me,  their creator, to them. I wonder at times how much space and energy they take from me.

And that’s why I love Alison’s art. She made a commitment to it. She’s paying her dues. She built a creative structure for herself and worked it. She writes about that here.  She also writes super cool poetry.