Why I stayed up all night watching "Titanic" (Or, my latest creative crisis & confession)

I accidentally stayed up until 4:15 a.m. last Wednesday watching Titanic.

It's not out of the ordinary for me to be up until the wee hours, but even I consider anything after 4:00 a bit excessive. Normally my all-night activities include writing, catching up on work, or reading, not movie watching. And Titanic? I'm not a hardcore fan. I watched it once when it came out, and it was, you know, fine. I know this is the kind of iconic movie you're supposed to have strong feelings about, but neither a Titanic lover nor a hater was I. (I was, however, annoyed by the constant onslaught of media hype the summer it came out. That was the summer I moved to England for a year, and I thought I'd escaped the madness by going abroad. Alas, Titanic was then released in Europe after I landed, which meant I had the pleasure of experiencing the hype twice. But I digress.)

I kept asking myself why the hell I was staying up all night to watch a movie I didn't particularly love, one I could easily rent or stream at a more convenient time. What was I doing?

I think I was doing the same thing that drove me to purchase a last-minute ticket to see Ben Folds a few weeks ago.

And what is that same thing?

Seeking connection and emotion, something real and true and beautiful.

On that late mid-week night, while my husband an all my friends were asleep, I needed to immerse myself in a love story. I needed to tap into something that would allow me (make me?) cry.

I've been feeling disconnected and disheveled for weeks. Months, if I'm honest. I hate to admit that out loud, because dammit, I feel like I go through this spin cycle every few seasons. It's embarrassing. It's tiring. It's confusing. There's shame in it that I'd rather keep secret.

This summer marks six years that I've been working as a solo creative entrepreneur without a fulltime "day job." In that time I have (in no particular order) gotten my masters degree in creative writing, created and self-published a book, created and taught online writing courses, started another book, had a spiritual crisis, and gotten much clearer about the work I really want to be doing.

But that clarity has fogged up lately. I can't see where I'm headed. Worse, I don't know where I want to be headed. I do, however, know where I don't want to go. I know the things that drain my energy. And lately I've been focusing (by necessity borne of commitment) on things that drain me.

And now we know where this leads: To watching Titanic at 3:00 in the morning.

I've felt so disconnected from my self and purpose that I've started seeking ways to reconnect. This is not a bad thing. In fact, I think this is the gift of art: To connect us--to others, to ourselves, to spirit and truth. This is why we need good books, movies, art, and music.

But something about Titanic nagged at me the whole time I watched it. It's a visually beautiful movie, but the computer generated-ness is too slick to be real beauty. The dynamic between Kate Winslett's and Leonardo DiCaprio's characters was good, but the dialogue was often shoddy. I let tears fall the appropriate times (I cry easily), but something about them felt shallow.

The next day it hit me: Titanic is a movie with a lot of heart, but not a lot of soul. (I think this is a recurring problem with James Cameron movies. Cross-reference Avatar.)

Maybe this is what's happening for me right now: I'm doing my best to put a lot of heart into things, but my soul isn't in it. I've been trying to keep parts of myself in a sideroom. I've sidelined my soul. Hid it in a closet. Been afraid to come out and be all the parts of me. I've been pretending that I know what I'm doing because by this point in my life and career I think I should know what I'm doing. I assume that you (you=everyone) expects me to know what I'm doing.

I want to know what I'm doing, but right now, I don't. Maybe it's time to let this -- the admission that I'm still finding my way -- be enough for now. 

{Insert some schlocky metaphor about sinking ships and everlasting love and passion here. Or not. Sometimes you just have to let things be.}

Comments

[d smith kaich jones]

having just spent the entire day on the couch watching hallmark channel movies, interrupted by bits of laundry doing and sandwich making, i had to smile. i blame it on a fibro flare-up, and while that's a part, another part is that i just wanted a break from putting my soul out there. 2 sides of a story here. i am exhausted with it, but that's okay. i needed movies purposely with no soul to allow mine to rest.

i think we're all okay - we all reach points where, well, we just can't see too far down the road. you said that perfectly. and i for one, am okay with that. i am so much more interested in reading about you finding your way, in your missteps and stumbles, and your getting back up with the treasure you found while you were down.

and by the way, i've never seen titanic. no plans to ever do so. it sinks, right?

[pen]

This post really spoke to me, as I have often questioned my own intent interest in the likes of programmes such as Grey's Anatomy which always inevitable has me crying in every episode! What you wrote above touches on it - I needed something which allowed me to cry. I often feel on the precipice of tears - both of sorry and joy, but find I work hard to suck it in. To hold it in. As a result though I live my life and create work with definitely a lot of heart - but always feeling like something is lacking. Missing. Reading your post made me realise, it's my soul. I'm still holding that in, protecting it, as it feels ever so fragile. Instead I find a surreptitious way to release it, through a movie or TV show - giving myself permission to open the floodgates then because it's hidden behind something else... I don't know if this makes any sense - but I feel a little shroud of my own self has been lifted through your words, and I thank you for that :)

[Katie @ cakes, tea and dreams]

So honest, Jenna. This resonates deeply with me - thanks for sharing. xoxo

[Kimberley McGill]

I thought I had left a response earlier?

Thank you for opening your heart here, for being vulnerable and real.

Love you when you know and when you don't know what you're doing!

You've inspired me and let me know I am not alone when I feel lost and like all the lights are out.

[Samv]

love this..."I think this is the gift of art: To connect us--to others, to ourselves, to spirit and truth" - so true!

[Helen (Dixon Hill Girl)]

Love it when you're this real! (And, hey, you can't be a real artist unless your soul is a little bit tortured - or lost - from time to time. Can you? ;) )

[Martha]

I feel like this all the time - reaching out for connection. I am lost - my soul is lost - my heart is lost- around people my strength is sapped- I too do not know what I want and where I am going but do know what I dont want or what I dont want to go back too. ( but I loved titanic and saw it a dozen times but would not be able to watch it in my current state of mind I know ) anyway - just wanted to touch base and say " ditto" " me too" " wtf? is up with this" ....crashing bad today and trying to walk through it ....xoxo

[Barb Markway]

Hi Jenna! Just want you to know that right now I am printing out your e-book from the Alchemy writing course. I bought a pretty 3-ring binder to put it in. I loved the course and I love this post, although I'm sad you're struggling. Whatever your future holds, I hope you keep teaching others how to write. You have a gift for it. My husband even told me he thought my writing improved from your course. He also said he never knows what I'll write now, and I took that as a compliment :)

[Jenna McGuiggan]

Thanks for all the support and for letting me know this post resonates with you. It's so often the posts that I almost don't publish (like this one) that end up connecting with people. Interesting to note, yes?

@Kimberley: I think Squarespace is having an issue with deleting comments. One of mine disappeared, too. Thanks for letting me know; I'll look into it.

@Barb: No worries, I plan to continue writing and working with writers. Thanks!

[B.A. Hanson]

Sad you're struggling? No...happy you've embraced what is happening as part of coming to terms with living...there is a commonality here , perhaps amongst the most creative? A lovely, encouraging bit of writing this blog...thank you.

[shari]

really enjoyed this post. yes, "enjoyed" it! Not your struggles, but I find that I can really only be at my creative best when I'm struggling with something, or in an emotional pit of some sort. I cannot create art when I'm blissfully happy, it's as if I have to choose one over the other. And honestly, I've never met a really super fantastic artist of any medium who has created their best work under blissful circumstances. I think those of us who create art, do so as an outlet. And let's be honest, when you're super happy, you usually don't feel the need to let it out in this big blurt of emotional art, right?

So all of this is to say that I totally agree with the last comment, grab this feeling of not knowing around the neck, jump on it, and ride it until something awesome starts flowing out of your fingertips... ;)