This week I've been thinking about comfort zones. We all want to be in one. They're comfortable, by definition. But they're not where we learn new skills or where we do our best work. They're not where we find out who we really are.
They are good places to recuperate after undergoing the stress of change, however, so don't chuck them out altogether.
In martial arts, you most often find people wallowing in their comfort zone once they hit their first blackbelt. Whitebelts look at you with a bit of hero-worship. You often get asked to be uke (partner) for your sensei when he demonstrates (which is considered a mark of your ability as an uke). You are called on to help lower belts learn new techniques. It can be a heady time. So it's easy to feel like you've made it and you can cruise now.
Which, if your sensei is keeping an eye on you, is normally when he/she will step in and demonstrate something you don't understand. Or point out a flaw in a technique you thought you had down pat.
At that point, it's up to you. Do you suck up your pride and hurl yourself out of your comfort zone again? Back into the world of uncertainty and frustration you spent so long pulling yourself out of? Or do you ignore the promptings and rest on the laurels already achieved; bask in the warm fuzzies that come from passing on knowledge to new students.
Don't get me wrong. There's absolutely nothing wrong with passing on knowledge and enjoying helping others. You learn a lot from teaching people, as well. I quite enjoy it, myself.
But there's a danger in it, too. A danger of becoming too comfortable and too used to adulation. A danger of believing your own publicity, as they say.
The same happens in the writing world. Writers who have a few acceptances under their belts, maybe a few awards, a few published books. They gather a group of acolytes and mentor them along the path. It feels good. Everyone likes to be listened to and respected.
And you do, undoubtedly, learn from teaching and analysing other people's writing.
But there comes a time when you have to push yourself again. There are always new things to learn. Always new ideas, new techniques, new ways of seeing the world, the industry, how stories work. And these days the publishing industry changes so fast (as does reader taste) that you cannot afford to sit back and gloat over how great a writer you are.
There's always someone better. Never doubt that you can learn. Never arrogantly believe that you are the only one with good ideas and experience.
Find people you can learn from. Make yourself feel the discomfort of uncertainty again.
It takes humbleness, determination, and a dollop of self-awareness to push through the boundary between the comfort zone and the discomfort zone.
But it's worth it for how much better you become, and how much larger your new comfort zone is when you master the new skills.
The best blackbelts, and the best writers, are (I find, anyway) the ones who are most humble, least self-aggrandizing, and most open to learning from anyone.
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I live in Australia - which tells you I have a sense of humour. We're a self-deprecating people, we Aussies. My aim is to, one day, vanish in a blinding flash of enlightenment. In the mean time, I'm doing my best to learn as many