The Stumbling Path Forward

For Every Creative Who’s Still Figuring It Out

Hello!

Before we jump into today’s post … welcome!

My name is Tanner. I am an author, spoken word poet, and speaker. Every week I share a few hopeful poems, prayers, and reflections. If you enjoy the words I share, I’d love to have you support this ministry at the monthly, annual, or founding member level.

The Stumbling Path Forward

Facebook reminded me that twelve years ago, I was in a friend’s basement studio, recording my first spoken word album.

The album is called honest thoughts. If you're in the mood to feel slightly uncomfortable for 38 minutes, you can still listen to all 11 tracks here.

Just trying to try

Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing when I wrote and recorded this album.

I was 23-years-old and nobody knows what’s going on at 23.

I was a new writer with big dreams and very impatient.

I was fresh out of college who had recently been let go of their first full-time job.

Most of my friends were getting married, starting families, and buying homes.

I, on the other hand, had just gone through another breakup, took a job as a part-time barista at a local coffee shop, and was telling everyone that I was going to become a poet.

So, things were not going the way I thought they would be.

I was lost and tired and felt behind.

Yet, something in me whispered that I needed to pursue writing. Or maybe I just desperately wanted to be a writer. Either way, that’s the direction I started walking in.

The poems I wrote back then were long. Angsty. Earnest.

I was proud of them. But they weren’t very good.

Sure, there were a few lines that landed, but I was far from where I wanted to be, both as a writer and a person.

I was mimicking other spoken word artists I admired. Loud. Fast. Forceful. Long winded.

But that wasn’t me.

When I stepped up to the mic, I tried to be someone I wasn’t, someone different from who I was off stage. And I didn’t like that. I was trying to be what I thought others wanted me to be, or who I thought I wanted to be. It didn’t feel honest or right. But when you're just starting, you don’t know what you don’t know. You just try. You fall forward.

Sometimes moving forward looks like stumbling.

And I was stumbling.

2013

Sometimes artists have to try to be like other artists so you can figure out what kind of art you want to create. It’s a messy process. Beautiful. Clunky. But necessary.

What’s the saying? Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. It’s true. Imitation also helps us find out who we want to be and who we do not want to be.

Answering a calling or pursuing a dream rarely begins with clarity. More often, it starts with confusion and faith. You feel behind. Unfit. Frustrated. Some days you think you misunderstood God altogether. Other days you feel like this is truly the thing you were created for.

So, you keep going.
You wake up early to write.
You turn off the TV to read.
You practice in front of a mirror.
You tell people your dreams and you endure the awkward silence that comes with their confusion.
You step into new rooms and make new friendships and create new art.
You keep trying and trying to try.
You pace around your apartment, reading handwritten poems out loud, searching for your voice.

It took me years to find my voice.

It wasn’t until I wrote a poem called Some Days that I thought, Hmm. This feels like you.

The poem was far from perfect, but it was a breakthrough.

It was written two years into my writing career.
Two years of writing every single day.
Two years of reading every single day.
Two years of trying to believe that I wasn’t just someone who wanted to be a writer, but that I was an actual writer.

Writing Some Days made me feel alive.
Reading it back left me feeling seen.
And for the first time, I didn’t want to edit it into something better. I just wanted it to be what it was, a flash of lightning that left me changed.

Some Days is short and soft.
Inviting. Honest. Intimate.
When I read it aloud I felt like I was offering hope and peace.

And that’s really what I wanted to give the world: Hope and peace.

Some Days

Some days you'll need the open road and loud nostalgic music.

You'll need phone calls with family and conversations with old friends.

Some days you'll need the rain and you'll need the window down.

Some days you'll need to get out of the car and take a picture in the middle of the road, or pull over to watch the sunset.

Most days you'll need a cup of coffee and an open Bible.

And you'll need to get a refill on both.

Some days you just need to be reminded that today is another day.

And you'll need to do things to remind yourself that you're you and you're alive to live.

But everyday we will need each other and we will need to be reminded that we aren't alone.

Everyday we will need meaningful hugs and hopeful smiles.

We will need to hear we are loved and that it's ok for us to be ourselves.

Some days we will have to ask to be told these things; other days honest words of love will be freely spoken into our lives.

And those are the days we live for.

Those are the days that keep us alive.

And being alive is a good thing.

It’s twelve years later and I am still wanting to offer the world hope and peace, still stumbling forward. I think this is just how artists navigate the world. We give what we have. We try. We stumble. We skin our knees. We heal. We show you what we’ve made. We point to our scars. We continue. We repeat.

I’ve written books, toured across the country, released countless spoken word poems, and turned a dream into a career.

I’ve played shows for 3 people. I’ve been sent awful messages. I’ve lost countless followers. I’ve been called terrible names. I’ve lost friends. I’ve wrestled depression and insecurity. I’ve contemplated giving up.

But I cannot get away from the thing I believe God has invited me to do.

I share all of this to say:

Give it time.
Stay patient.
Remain committed.
Pay attention.
Continue with hope.

We all start somewhere.

Sure, you might feel behind, but starting just means you’re brave enough to begin.

There will be rejection letters, awkward performances, half-finished drafts, and days you question everything. Literally everything. There will be messages sent with no response, social media posts that get 0 likes, and endless moments of insecurity.

But there will also be quiet affirmations: a line that moves you, an unexpected invitation, an audience member who sticks around to say thank you, a moment when something inside you clicks and says, Yes. This is it. You’ll be drawn closer to God. I cannot explain, but you will be. Create with the Creator and everything changes. You’ll feel the heaviness on your chest become lighter. You’ll be filled with unexpected, but always welcomed gratitude.

If something inside you burns to create, don’t snuff it out just because the world isn’t clapping yet. Us artists don’t create for the applause, but because we cannot help but create. It is our way of giving to the world what we have. An offering of words and ideas and beauty. Your worth isn’t tied to your audience. Your worth is not connected to numbers, finances of followers. It’s tied to your honesty. Your courage. Your persistence.

Keep writing the messy poems.
Keep painting the imperfect canvases.
Keep recording the shaky demos.
Keep making things that feel like you, even when no one else seems to notice.

Because one day, someone will.

And more importantly, you will.

You’ll look back and realize that all the false starts and failed attempts and stumbled steps were not detours, they were the path forward.

So keep going.
The work matters.
You matter.
And your voice is worth finding.

Much love,

Tanner

Coming Soon: Creative Consulting

I don’t just want to tell you that you can do it!

I want to help you take those next steps.

For the past few years, I’ve quietly offered one-on-one sessions I call Creative Consulting.

Hour long conversations where you get to ask questions, wrestle with dreams, walk away with clarity, encouragement, and a custom plan for your next season of creating.

Nothing is off limits.

Helping creatives move forward is one of my favorite things to do.

Because creating can be lonely—but it doesn’t have to be.

Next week I’ll share more about Creative Consulting and how we can work together to help you take the next step in your creative career.

If you’re interested, keep an eye out or send me a message asking for more details.

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