I once went for a hypnotherapy session at the suggestion of a friend who was the hypnotherapist.  I was chewing on too much confusion about all the creative voices in my head.  All the serious writers, beatnik prose-masters, whimsical artists, musicians and maybe even a racing mechanic were always clamoring for attention.  She thought a session would help me clarify myself to myself.

While I was under, I was asked to separate all the pieces or voices into their own chambers in my vast mental workshop.  The neat and tidy part of my brain always sought to compartmentalize these separate pieces for easy categorization while the free spirit part was happy with having them blend and flow into each other.   Nothing got done either way.

One of these compartments was behind a paneled wooden door with fancy decorative molding surrounding it.  The air was heavy with the scent of furniture polish.  The shiny brass handle had these little etchings that made it look like a Christmas ornament.    The grand facade gave the impression that it was just made from the woodshop, in a different compartment down the hall but made to look and feel very old like the entrance to some great and ancient temple of knowledge.  There was a small placard on the door that announced, ” Writer’s Residence, Please Knock”.

The heavy door opened to an imposing study or library.  There were many mahogany stained shelves lined with books of all sizes and ages.  A ladder on rollers was mounted to a railing on the shelves.  There was large ornate desk in the middle of the fine wood paneled room.  On the wall behind the desk was a  large framed window overlooking something just out of perceptible range.   There was a globe on a stand, possibly outdated.  By the window was a telescope aiming for the heavens on a brass stand.  The vaulted ceiling had a broad skylight and constellations were pained around it.  There were papers, pencils and pens on the desk.  Some pencils were broken in half.  The only modern contrivance was a computer with its relentless blinking cursor.  This was the writer’s abode.

However, if you turn to the left the room opens to a breathy white space with a draughtsman’s table in the center.  On the table are brushes, pens and paints.  A collection of small stuffed animals line the periphery and the shelves around the table.  Model airplanes and spaceships hung from the ceiling.  Taped to the wall next to the table are scraps of notes, sketch ideas and lists, lots of lists.  Also on the table is a computer screen with a digital paint tablet off to the side.  It is a messy colorful active space.   Hanging from pegs on one wall are a pirate hat, aviator’s cap and goggles, an astronaut helmet and a Sherlock Holmes-style cap.  The picture book maker works here.

This is just one room of many.  While standing in this room I asked, “Who am I, the cynical mystery writer churning out one hard-boiled thriller after another or the adventure-seeking picture book writer and artist who makes this silly stories for children of all ages”?  There’s a difference between the scruffy mystery writer of riveting suspense and the guy who looks like he just jumped out of a biplane to write childish fantasies about a silly spider and his ridiculous friends.

What would my social media profile be like?  Should my photo be me in the time worn trench coat of the hard-boiled detective whilst wearing a propeller beanie as Ollie does?

I want to be both.  Herein lies the dilemma.

The problem with doing more than one thing, with not being a specialist, is you never know how to present yourself to an audience.  The same audience who courses though a steamy page turner might not be the same group who enjoys colorful stories about friendship and tree houses.  It would get tedious for me as the creator to have a different a website and media presence for every medium I create in.  Then again, the viewer who comes to my site looking for my writing and has to wade through my illustrations, paintings and photos might not stick around.

I don’t know which is best.  Maybe that same person can be turned on to something new and interesting as opposed to being turned off by all the extra distractions.  For now,  I keep everything on one page with combined-interest social medias.  These nagging little things keep me up at night because I can see the analytics.  When I post art, I get more art followers who leave when I post stories or poems and vice versa.

I wake up with these dreams on my mind every morning.  Some I can take and some just make me itch all over.

I don’t have a fix for this yet and if you have the same problem I don’t have any real solution for you, either.  Just keep doing what you do and make sure it gets out there for the world to see it.  If you do “everything” then post “everything”.  Some, maybe all of it will stick.

All I really learned from that hypnotherapy session long ago was there are more creative forces in my head than I was aware of.  Now that they all have their own apartments they argue with each other about who deserves the place with the best view.

Make your stuff and do it every day.  You need it and so do we.

Tommy.