Tiny Beautiful Things

“Being a professional is doing the things you love to do, on the days you don’t feel like doing them.” —Julius Erving (Dr. J)

“Do exercises for writers instead of just reading them.” —Heather Sellers, Page After Page

I am not motivated today. The sky outside is neither brilliant blue nor textured grey, but a vast, featureless white. It’s a blank canvas, which is rather how I feel, like I’m staring into the depths of my soul and there’s simply nothing to see. I suppose some days are inevitably like this, just as other days overflow with creative energy. Those days, I wake up and can’t wait to get to my desk. Today, I would very much like to spend the entire day clicking from web site to web site and feeling sorry for myself.

Last Monday was an “on” day. I’d been reading up on methods for pricing artwork and several sources recommended setting a price per square inch and simply calculating the area of each piece and adding any special material costs to determine a selling price. That idea immediately appealed to me because, whether I’m writing or collaging, I hate tracking my time. It sucks the joy right out of the creative process to realize you’re not even making minimum wage for your efforts and probably never will. As I began recalculating my prices, I started thinking about what one might find in a square inch of art. In larger pieces, I suppose, there are bound to be some fairly boring square inches—patches of plain grey or simple backgrounds. Some square inches, though, some are exquisite gems.

One of the loves of my writing life is the burgeoning genre of nanofiction. I love the challenge of creating a story whose length belies its resonance. I love the idea of capturing moments, small parts of experiences that continue to shine long after other memories fade. As I did the rote work of changing prices in my online store, it occurred to me that I could create a collage version of nanofiction—tiny, exquisitely layered works of art that anyone could afford, that would resonate beyond their size, and that would let people hold wonder in the palms of their hands.

I spent the next two days making what I call “square inch art.” They look like this:





Beautiful, aren’t they? They're selling quickly, but I still have a handful on my desk. On a low motivation day like today, I think it helps to hold one and to be reminded just how small a spark of inspiration can be.

The sun just came out and the white sky is opening to reveal stretches of blue. It’s time for me to do something I love.

Actually, I think I just did.