How to Be Average: An Average Book for Average Creatives

By Devyn Fraser Price

Overflowing with regrets? Terrified nothing's ever good enough? Stuck in a creative rut? Uninspired?

Maybe you haven't picked up a paintbrush in months. You haven't written a single sentence. Your guitar is cuddled up with the dust bunnies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Devyn Price
• Release date: Jan 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781956989205

Devyn Fraser Price

Devyn Fraser Price is the vocal director at the School of Rock in Cypress,Texas. This is her first book, though probably not her last. Devyn has aBachelor of Arts in Creative Writing and History from the University ofHouston and an Associate of Arts in Music from Lone Star College. Shecurrently lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband, two children, andtwo dogs.

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

I am a productivity nerd. Before 2020, and even through parts of it, I had my systems and goals down perfectly. I have ADHD, so the systems I put into place acted as a sort of scaffolding for the chaos that was going on in my brain.

Over the years, I have perfected a series of scaffoldings amalgamating several productivity systems that I had learned, relearned, implemented, organized, and integrated into my life.

I wrote my SMART goals, worked my way backward with deadlines, and got out a calendar with multi-colored highlighters. I set out a series of tasks to do each day to lead me up to the big fat goal. I scheduled marathons, college degrees, music performances, novel writings, and kids’ school activities. My calendar looked more lit up than a Griswold’s Christmas home.

I spent my time full of anxiety, running from one goal to another. Whenever something would happen that would put a spanner in my perfect plans, I would go into full panic mode—or I would completely ignore the problem until it became a bigger problem. If I got sick during marathon training, I would stress—most likely prolonging my sickness and making me miss my training for longer. I felt like I was spinning plates, knowing that if someone gave me one more plate in my perfectly choreographed performance, they’d all come crashing down.

Then 2020 happened. COVID became a pandemic. The world shut down.

I had more plans. To run the Houston marathon for the first time, form my own band, and get some gigs. To record my own album and get it out there. To finish editing and publish my novel. To revive my acting career and get out and start auditioning again. When COVID hit, so much of that became impossible. My running group canceled the marathons when we stopped gathering. Gigs were no longer available; theaters were closed. My children were home in our open plan house, which meant no quiet for recording, no chance for concentration in learning my piano pieces, and very little for writing.

I realized that there were goals that I had made that were not in my control. I had to come face to face with the fact that I could not control everything. Still, I was determined. I knew things were in my control, so I kept working out and running at home and learning more about songwriting. Because of COVID, classes for Broadway performers that were usually only available in New York City were now available to me in Houston, Texas. I continued to make goals for myself, piling on more and more work. If I couldn’t control the venue in which that shared my outcome, I could control my development as an artist and athlete, right?

Then my back went out at the end of 2020. Three herniated discs, a genetic issue, I learned later. I could not walk more than a few minutes at a time, let alone run or work out. Even doing simple singing performances for my Broadway classes was difficult. On top of that, helping my children get through this time with virtual schooling was like taking on another job, and my time to develop as an artist became even less. Suddenly, things that seemed in my control weren’t at all. I couldn’t even control what my body did.

So as I was laid out on my sofa on Christmas in pain, I realized that my body had done what it needed. I was not listening to it. It tried to whisper to me months before, but I had ignored it. It needed me to slow down. Take it easy and listen. Be receptive. Take care of myself and my family. Stop always trying to prove myself: move forward, make goals, and just enjoy life.

As I sat and wrote in my journal, I wondered what I had achieved in life so far. If I didn’t have any goals, I wouldn’t get anywhere. Hell, at 38 years old, I had done nothing with my life, barely able to walk and nothing to show for my efforts: no band gigs, no album, no book, no thriving business.

I decided to list the things I had done in my life. At first, that list started with some items I thought were things you were supposed to achieve to be cool, interesting, and successful. I traveled to and lived in Europe; I ran marathons, ultra marathons, and half marathons. I got a few college degrees. I got married. I gave birth to two wonderful children.

From there, I started writing down things I felt proud of. I adopted two rescue dogs. I faced my extreme fear of heights on a 50-foot ropes course. I planted a garden that produced food my family could eat and enjoy.

And then, I listed the smaller things in life I enjoyed and appreciated, things I would miss if I had only had a day left to live. I have smelled roses, I have blown the seeds of a dandelion, I have watched a dog having the time of its life rolling in the mud, I have watched fields of heather blowing in the wind, I have seen gorgeous sunsets, I have walked on the beach, I have eaten lunch by a waterfall.

I realized that I had achieved so much. I have lived. Just because I don’t have the fame and fortune society expects from me to be a successful and productive person doesn’t mean I am not a successful and productive person. I have lived, and I will continue to live.

I decided at that point to write this book. To share with other creatives that it is okay to be okay with where you are, that you don’t have to keep going in that straight line trajectory up and up and up with no stopping, no resting, no playing, no enjoying. You have to wear every hat—artistic genius, marketer, editor, accountant, lawyer. That it’s okay to still be in a place where you’re finding your voice; you can live your life the way it is now; enjoy your life the way it is now. Life is cyclical. There are times to rest and times to work. We need to know our bodies and the seasons, work with those and maintain what we have, nurture what we have right now and ultimately work toward a greater good, not to make money for some entitled guy