Community over competition: part 2

How to uplift your peers, even in times of perceived scarcity.

Note: Last week I wrote about envy and how it sours creative relationships—both interpersonal and with the self. A deviation from Creativity Under Capitalism’s typical biweekly cadence, today’s one-week follow-up discusses how writers and artists can uplift members of their community, even when jealousy, fear, and other unpleasant feelings bubble to the surface. I recommend reading last week’s issue before continuing with this one.

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In a weird, backwards way, it’s been a joy to commiserate with others since publishing last week’s issue about creative envy. What I once worried was an unflattering personality trait has turned out to be a common experience among writers, artists, and everyone in between. Even the kindest, most compassionate people experience envy, and they manage to remain kind and compassionate because they manage their jealousy well. But what does that actually look like?

Last Friday I wrote that many of us create in order to connect with others: to spin yarns (literally and figuratively), relate with one another, and offer others a soft place to land. But when it’s left unmanaged, envy destroys those connections. It can move us to talk bitterly about people behind their backs, gatekeep opportunities others might find helpful or fulfilling, and even undermine those who are mere steps away from success. And in those scenarios, both people lose.

I am not above admitting that I’ve had my own envy-induced spirals of ugliness. Over time, though, I’ve come to understand that envy is fear in disguise.

If you hang out in writerly or artistic online circles long enough, you’ll inevitably see someone mention the “scarcity mindset”—more specifically, forgoing that mindset in favor of one of abundance. At its core, the scarcity mindset is based on fear: there isn’t enough money, attention, or opportunity to go around, and therefore we must do everything in our power to snap up what we can. When someone else gets said money/attention/opportunity, we feel threatened, because that’s one less piece of success available to us.

The abundance mindset flips this thinking on its head. It’s based on confidence rather than fear; it purports that there’s plenty of food to go around and enough seats at the table for anyone who’s hungry to sit down. When someone else gets the freelance gig or the first place ribbon or the last spot at an artist’s retreat, that’s okay, because the next opportunity to succeed is right around the corner.

I’ll be honest: when I first heard of the whole “scarcity vs abundance mindset” thing, I thought, What a load of BS. Print and web-based publications are folding every month; publishers, for all their control over the media world, have limited budgets; readers and social media followers can only spend so much money or so much time online. Virtually everything that’s tangible is finite, especially these days (or so we think), and it felt privileged for someone to say that something as abstract as “mindset” could change that.

But in a vast majority of cases, the opportunities we miss out on aren’t the last of their kind to enter our lives. Being rejected for one publishing opportunity doesn’t mean there aren’t dozens (if not hundreds) more waiting for us; watching another artist “take” the last spot at a coveted residency doesn’t mean we won’t eventually find a residency of our own, too. This isn’t to say we can’t feel bummed when we aren’t chosen—I’m pro-pity party, as feeling our feelings before getting back up on our feet helps to avoid building resentment over time. It is to say that gnashing our teeth at other creatives over the opportunities we want will only hinder our communities and make ourselves look bad.

An abundance-based perspective is what allows us to be givers of opportunities, too. As a freelance writer, I’ve had many people reach out to me asking how they can kick off their own freelance writing careers. I love talking about both writing and freelancing, so I’m always thrilled to have these conversations, but every time, a tiny voice in my head pipes up: What if more freelance writers = less writing opportunities for me? Aren’t calls for pitches already meager enough?

It’s my responsibility in these moments to remind myself that this voice is the product of a scarcity mindset. It’s my job to tell that voice: There are plenty of opportunities to go around, even now. Remember that writing gigs newsletter you don’t even bother opening these days? I can’t write everything; this person can’t, either. I’d much rather know I helped a fellow writer achieve their dream than be a bad community member and get a couple article commissions I feared they’d take from me. (The abundance mindset takes a long time to train, as you can tell.)

We can practice banishing the scarcity mindset in other practical ways. We can share a cool contest we’ve just entered, even though fewer entries means we’re statistically more likely to win. We can promote each other’s newsletters, even though we wish more people would read our own. We can retweet calls for pitches that we’ve answered; point potential customers toward our friends’ art fair booths after they’ve already passed over our own; we can refer clients to creatives who might be better suited for the job. The right thing will come around to us eventually, even if we have to pivot slightly to get it.

We can also remind ourselves why we’re in the creativity game in the first place. In my second-ever issue of Creativity Under Capitalism, I shared that writing is important to me because it’s personally fulfilling above all else:

“I want my craft to be something I’d do even in the dark. I want the words I write to fill my soul before they have a chance to fill anyone else’s. I want my stories to take me places and teach me things more than I want them to earn a few bucks in royalties or make a bestseller list.”

- “Why I don’t write to sell” | Nov. 2023

Why is creating important to you? Is it because it’s fun to play with words or paint or clay? Do you like experimenting with new styles in an effort to find your own? Do you find that art is the easiest or most satisfying way you can express yourself?

I used to struggle with envy to a debilitating degree, my friend Marble, author of the newsletter Hello - Marble, shared in the comments of last week’s issue. I’ve learned to just spend less time centering myself and to center the art instead. That way, when other writers are where I want to be, I view it as a team effort. In the end (at least, I’d like to believe) we’re all after and in love with the same thing.

If you’re reading this newsletter, you probably are after and in love with art, no matter its form(s). You’re probably also a part of a community, whether you realize it or not, that cares deeply about that particular branch of creativity. Why not revel in that community in the best possible way: uplifting others? After all, community is one of the few things that aren’t finite.

What’s been inspiring me lately:

✰ Wednesday’s Child, a book of stories by Yiyun Li. I’m very interested in writing short stories but for some reason have always struggled with structuring them. To fix that, I’m doing a self-guided short story-writing class of sorts, reading through at least 5 books of short stories while seeking out other instructional resources. (If you have any favorites, please let me know!)

✰ A peaceful walk I enjoyed last weekend through the Desert Botanical Garden. In August, Phoenix hits 90 degrees at about 8 AM; most of the day is spent over 100 F. This meant no one was at the DBG except me and the staff (well, also my cooling towel, sunscreen, and bottle full of ice water). I saw a bunch of desert spiny lizards—they’re like tiny dinosaurs!—and plenty of one of my favorite birds, the Gambel’s quail. I always wonder what those little dudes’ inner lives are like.