Kern Carter's Blog, page 141

Open call for submissions — We don’t do this often

At CRY, we like to send you themes that spark ideas for you to write about. Our guided submission requests have become part of who we are. But every once in a while, we do open submissions where we let you decide what you want to write about.

This is one of those times.

Our only ask is that your submission be related to creativity in some way. Other than that, it’s totally up to you.

Same rules as always:If you’re already a writer for CRY, go ahead and submit.If you’re not a writer for CRY but would like to submit to this request, let us know and we’ll add you ASAP.Be as creative as you want in your submissions. As long as you stick to the topic, we’ll consider it.Just because you submit doesn’t mean we’ll post. If you haven’t heard back from us in three days, consider that a pass.Deadline to submit is this Friday, August 21.

Please reach out if you have any questions at all. If you are new to Medium, here’s how you submit a draft to a publication.

Open call for submissions — We don’t do this often was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Bad Partners Make Bad Collaborators

Our Filmmaking Was Like Our Love: Toxic

Continue reading on C.R.Y »

Childhood trauma, mental health and the cost of creativity

This week, we saw some emotional posts about what it means to be an artist. It’s always great learning about these shared experiences because creatives need to know that they’re not alone. These stories tackled issues of childhood trauma, mental health and the emotional and physical price we pay to be artists. Check it out:

THE PRICE OF BEING AN ARTIST — INTERVIEW WITH TORONTO ARTIST MARGAUX SMITH by Kern CarterI WAS A TORTURED ARTIST by Zen BlumWHAT’S SO BAD ABOUT A BAD MOOD by Martha Manning

Thanks so much for subscribing to CRY. Don’t forget to follow us on IG @wecrydeep

Childhood trauma, mental health and the cost of creativity was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Gaining The Confidence To Be A Creative

How I got the conviction that innovation is what life is all about, while accepting to go against the grain.

I have always been creative. I do not want to fit the archetypes that you are either a logical person or a creative. Person A or Person B. Nonetheless, my mother has endless accounts of when I had told melodramatic stories since I could talk. I would stay up in the middle of the night and pretend I was a teacher along with my siblings, who were the students, making up non-sensical scenarios in the classroom to entertain them as we drifted off to sleep.

Photo by Les Anderson on Unsplash

But as I grew older my love for books and the arts declined as I realised what type of world we lived in. I had discovered that if one wants to be a ‘writer’, you had to have your book in the ‘New York Times Best Sellers List’ in order to be seen as a ‘success’. If not, you would be broke, seen as lazy, and ultimately, a loser. I felt as if your book was not in a bookstore. You were a loser. Success and nothing less.

It did not help that I come from a family of lawyers. My father. My grandfather. My great-grandfather. It was as if from a young age, my siblings and I were destined to be in the courtroom. As a child, I had spent hours in my father's office staring at the hundred-year-old law books with their red covering in pristine condition which nobody read. I would tag along to meetings, networking lunches, and my father would report to me all the happenings from his international travels. However, as much as it surrounded me, I never felt a connection to the world of law and justice. I desperately wanted to feel something, to make my family proud, to go down the path that seemed clear and made complete sense. A life that was, all in all, a blessed one to have.

Photo by Giammarco Boscaro on Unsplash

My creativity sparked at the age of eleven. When my teacher entered the class into a 100-word short story competition centered around the idea of Grim Tales. I titled my piece, “Why so White, Snow White?”. I loved it. I spent the evening writing. Thinking of ideas. Making it unique. Editing. It brought me joy. I handed in my short story the next day. I won. I had gotten into the anthology. It was an incredible feeling. I had my little eleven-year-old voice heard. But, after all that excitement and jubilation, I stopped. I was proud of myself but silently, ashamed I did not want to enjoy it. Subconsciously, I had hoped that it had been a fluke. To my disappointment, it was not, I found myself generating new ideas, looking forward to English lessons, and entering more competitions.

Photo by Sai De Silva on Unsplash

Although, I celebrated silently. I think it was due to the embarrassment that centered around the idea of ‘writing’. Every time I had heard of a writer, the words that popped into my head were: Broke. Lazy. Failure.

As time passed and the clock drew closer to university. The conversation swerved back to the career of law. My extended family knew about my writing but persisted that ‘law was the way to go.’’ You know, they make a lot of money now.’’ ‘Law is easy, you can do your writing on the side.’’ To be honest, nothing they said was wrong. Still embarrassed of my love for the arts, I took their advice on board. I had pictured myself in an office with red law books in pristine condition office, going for networking brunches, traveling the world for conferences. I knew in my heart that law was not for me, that I would be miserable, but people do say “It is better to cry in a Bentley than to cry in a Honda.” I was too scared to be seen as a writer, to be seen as a failure.

I was ready to follow my miserable fate. It has only been during this quarantine that I decided to look into myself and be alone. Away from all the family members and friends to discover that writing is the only thing that I look forward to doing. Being creative is what I have to do. I am miserable, moody, and not the best person to be around when I am not innovating. It was only on a summer evening, my mother brought up a conversation concerning my future and saw how distressed I had been discussing university. She rounded her lecture off with the notion, nobody cares.

Photo by Thomas Le on Unsplash

Nobody Cares

It had never fully dawned on me, how much I have been a people-pleasing, seeking people’s validation before my own. I was ready to kiss away my joy for the approval of my family. I am lucky enough to live in the western world, to have the option to do what I want. I should not care if I am going against the grain. Creating us what I am meant to be doing. It is inconsequential how everyone else felt about what I would do with my life.

My ask of you is to live largely. Think about what brings you joy. Take each day step by step. As creatives, we do not have to follow the path that the world approves of. Make your own version of success. Do it for the child that used to spend hours reading, the child who told stories until they fell asleep.

Gaining The Confidence To Be A Creative was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Do Yourself Some Justice

How I put the hammer down to be myself, and own my decisions, forget fearing judgment.

I have always been creative. I do not want to fit the archetypes that you are either a logical person or a creative. Person A or Person B. Nonetheless, my mother has endless accounts of when I had told stories since I could talk. I would stay up in the middle of the night and pretend I was a teacher along with my siblings, who were the students, making up non-sensical scenarios in the classroom to entertain them as we drifted off to sleep.

Photo by Les Anderson on Unsplash

But as I grew older my love for books and the arts declined as I realised what type of world we lived in. I had discovered that if one wants to be a ‘writer’, you had to have your book in the ‘New York Times Best Sellers List’ in order to be seen as a ‘success’. If not, you would be broke, seen as lazy, and ultimately, a loser. I felt as if your book was not in a bookstore. You were a loser. Success and nothing less.

It did not help that I come from a family of lawyers. My father. My grandfather. My great-grandfather. It was as if from a young age, my siblings and I were destined to be in the courtroom. As a child, I had spent hours in my father's office staring at the hundred-year-old law books with their red covering in pristine condition which nobody read. I would tag along to meetings, networking lunches, and my father would report to me all the happenings from his international travels. However, as much as it surrounded me, I never felt a connection to the world of law and justice. I desperately wanted to feel something, to make my family proud, to go down the path that seemed clear and made complete sense. A life that was, all in all, a blessed one to have.

Photo by Giammarco Boscaro on Unsplash

I had always opposed the idea of being a lawyer since I was a child, wanting to be a fashion designer, then baker, somehow a businesswoman after seeing Kimora Lee Simons ‘Life in the Fab Lane’.

I began writing at the age of eleven. When my teacher entered the class into a 100-word short story competition centered around the idea of Grim Tales. I titled my piece, “Why so White, Snow White?”. I loved it. I spent the evening writing. Thinking of ideas. Making it unique. Editing. It brought me joy. I handed in my short story the next day. I won. I had gotten into the anthology. It was an incredible feeling. I had my little eleven-year-old voice heard. But, after all that excitement and jubilation, I stopped. I was proud of myself but silently, ashamed I did not want to enjoy it. Subconsciously, I had hoped that it had been a fluke. To my disappointment, it was not, I found myself generating new ideas, looking forward to English lessons, and entering more competitions.

Photo by Sai De Silva on Unsplash

Although, I celebrated silently. I think it was due to the embarrassment that centered around the idea of ‘writing’. Every time I had heard of a writer, the words that popped into my head were: Broke. Lazy. Failure.

As time passed and the clock drew closer to university. The conversation swerved back to the career of law. My extended family knew about my writing but persisted that ‘law was the way to go.’’ You know, they make a lot of money now.’’ ‘Law is easy, you can do your writing on the side.’’ To be honest, nothing they said was wrong. Still embarrassed of my love for the arts, I took their advice on board. I had pictured myself in an office with red law books in pristine condition office, going for networking brunches, traveling the world for conferences. I knew in my heart that law was not for me, that I would be miserable, but people do say “It is better to cry in a Bentley than to cry in a Honda.” I was too scared to be seen as a writer, to be seen as a failure.

I was ready to follow my fate. It has only been through this quarantine have I decided to look into myself and be alone. Away from all the family members and friends to discover that writing is the only thing that I look forward to doing. Being creative is what I have to do. I am miserable, moody, and not the best person to be around when I am not innovating. It was only on a summer evening, my mother brought up a conversation concerning my future and saw how distressed I had been discussing university. She rounded her lecture off with the notion, nobody cares.

Photo by Thomas Le on Unsplash

It had never fully dawned on me, how much I have been a people-pleasing, seeking people’s validation before my own. I was ready to kiss away my joy for the approval of my family. I was lucky enough to live in the western world, to have the option to do what I wanted. I should not care if I am going against the grain. Creating was what I am meant to be doing. It was inconsequential how everyone else felt about what I would do with my life.

My ask of you is to live largely. Think about what brings you joy. Take each day step by step. As creatives, we do not have to follow the path that the world approves of. Make your own version of success. Do it for the child that used to spend hours reading, the child who told stories until they fell asleep.

Do Yourself Some Justice was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The price of being an artist — [Interview] with Toronto artist Margaux Smith

What’s the cost of being an artist in the city?

Continue reading on C.R.Y »

I was a tortured artist.

I recovered and you can too.

Continue reading on C.R.Y »

Call for submissions — how has being a creative affected your personal relationships?

There are so many interesting nuances that come with being creative. You are comfortable making sacrifices and certain decisions that may not make sense to the people you care about. Years ago, I remember telling my girlfriend that even though I just graduated from university, I wasn’t interested in getting a full-time job. I only wanted part-time jobs so I could focus on building my writing career. That was a tough pill for her to swallow because it had an impact on the way we were able to live.

What are your stories? How has being someone who is working towards or already full-time creative impacted your relationships? It could be with your family or an intimate partner. We want to know the sacrifices, the reactions and what it’s like if your partner is not a creative.

Same rules as always:If you’re already a writer for CRY, go ahead and submit.If you’re not a writer for CRY but would like to submit to this request, let us know and we’ll add you ASAP.Be as creative as you want in your submissions. As long as you stick to the topic, we’ll consider it.Just because you submit doesn’t mean we’ll post. If you haven’t heard back from us in three days, consider that a pass.Deadline to submit is this Friday, August 14.

Please reach out if you have any questions at all. If you are new to Medium, here’s how you submit a draft to a publication.

Call for submissions — how has being a creative affected your personal relationships? was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

What’s So Bad About A Bad Mood?

There can be dividends to darkness

Continue reading on C.R.Y »

All women should have a day a week in bed — and other stories on CRY

Another wonderful week of emotional creativity on CRY. Here’s what you missed:

ON STAYING IN BED by Angela MeyerRIDING THE WAVE: PORTRAITS OF A JERSEY SHORE COMMUNITY DURING THE PANDEMIC by Michele DougardSHE TOOK THE MONEY INSTEAD OF HER DREAM JOB by Kern Carter6 TIPS FOR YOUR BEST CREATIVE LIFE FROM THE ARTIST’S WAY by Stephanie Ouimeto

Don’t forget to follow CRY on Instagram for more content! @wecrydeep

All women should have a day a week in bed — and other stories on CRY was originally published in C.R.Y on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.