creative heist

Imagine:

From the nearest door, or, if necessary, window, two burly looking people in ski masks burst through. They jam a nine millimeter into your ribs and throw a burlap sack over your head, duct tape your hands together and throw you in the back of what you can only assume is a white passenger van.

The light is blinding as the sack comes off your head. Someone cuts the duct tape from your hands with a big, scary looking bowie knife. In front of you is your guitar, or your paint brushes, or the half-started remnants of the comic book you dreamed of at 15. 

The voice says, over an intercom, finish your work or it’s all over for you. You believe them.

By the power of metaphor—you might think two things to yourself.

First, maybe your calling is important enough that even though no one will do this, somebody maybe should.

Second, sans the ski-mask, maybe you could plan this for yourself? Not a working session, but a full on abduction of your artistic self from their all-too-ordinary world, inviting them into a place they finally belong—even if getting them there requires holding them at knifepoint. 

Thank you. Let’s have a great day.