Your Union Card
I am watching a show called “45 rpm” on Netflix. It’s about an aspiring singer and a fledgling record label attempting to make rock ‘n’ roll music in 1960s Spain. Like everywhere else, rock music has taken over the hearts and minds of young Spaniards. They love it! It gets them. They get it.
Unlike, say, Britain or the U.S.A., this is a repressed and backward Franco-era Spain. El General wasn't into 'newness.' Don’t whisper of revolution, even if it’s just a rock revolution. Franco liked tradition. And the authorities weren’t hesitant to remind you of that.
In the show, Robert, an aspiring singer, must go before a board to gain approval to receive his union membership card. You cannot play music for money or in any formal setting without your membership card.
Unfortunately, the dice are loaded against him. He has long hair! And swagger! This isn't classical music!
His fans love him. He loves playing music for his fans. But Robert can't gain official approval.
No card for you.
Where are you looking for your official approval? How much time do you spend worrying about your union card?
Card-Carrying Artist
Are you a card-carrying artist?
Who hands out the cards?
Who says 'yay?'
Who says 'nay?”
Growing up, countless adults and teachers took it upon themselves to be my union board. Maybe you can relate.
They weren't official. This isn't Franco-era Spain. No one could officially stop me from my writing, my music, or my art. But I let them. I gave them the power.
We creatives spend so much of our time and energy worrying about going in front of the board.
My college writing professor was a young Southern gentleman who was into Faulkner. Only elevated Southerners were into Faulkner. In a Midwestern world, the man with the beard and the smooth drawl is king. He stood out in a good way.
I was so excited about my creative writing course.
He told me my writing was disjointed.
It probably was.
Here's what he didn't tell me, "Keep going."
"You need more reps. Write more."
I wish he had. That should have been his job. Not to critique these young kids, although certainly there is a role for that, but to encourage them. Help them develop consistent writing practices. The output will magically improve.
Show them healthy frameworks and encourage them to persist. This is the artist's way. Persistence.
The Union Board In Our Head
Can I tell you a secret?
I'm not sure my writing professor ever said anything overtly negative (or positive) to me.
But in my head, he tore my work apart. He tore me apart. I hear his southern drawl softly saying, "You are not a writer, Morgan."
I hear it, but he never said it.
Can you believe that?
What demons we create!
Here is what your union board might be asking you:
Are you a real artist? Do you belong up on that stage? What business do you have showing anybody your art?
Where’s your union card?
Or maybe it’s not art.
Are you a real professional, realtor, consultant, entrepreneur, bodybuilder, manager, or executive?
Who gives us their approval?
Why do we care?
Stamp Your Own Card
Imposter syndrome has become a buzzword because we all relate to it somehow.
I take the Seth Godin approach. To paraphrase, you should feel like an imposter. That’s how you know you’re pushing into new territory.
Imposter syndrome is the feeling of waiting for your union card. You desperately want someone to give you the official affirmation that you’re in—that you belong here.
But here’s the deal: Official approval is not coming.
In fact, if the critics, wet blankets, and repressed artists have their way, you might even receive messages of disapproval.
So what do we do?
You gotta punch your own card.
Do it. Right now.
And then get back out there.
You got this.