What Season Are You In?

Balancing Process, Progress, and Presence

Dear friends,

Over the last weeks, I’ve been asked several times what I plan to do with my new songs.

The question surprised me!

First, because I have been in “bunker mode” and the idea that there might be outside interest has seemed very foreign.

Second, it was the first indication that the project had grown from seed to shoot.

What interested though, was how clearly I felt my response.

I am not yet in that season.

This week’s newsletter explores the importance of understanding and honouring the season you are in and, when necessary, consciously protecting it before being drawn into the next phase.

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1: The Season of Not Rushing

“So when are we going to hear all these songs?” asked Ralf, who is the director of Mahalla, where my office is situated.

I knew with certainty only one thing; not yet!

Writing songs takes time.
Renewal takes time.
Earning money for the studio takes time.

Sometimes our seasons are forced, sometimes they are chosen.

But each one has its own character.

I felt a great sense of peace when Ralf asked the question, because it showed me how very much in this season I am.

Yes, at times, I’ve felt frustrated.
Yes, at times, I’ve swung high and low.

But there have been breakthroughs and realisations.
First in myself.
And then in song.

A song does not arrive unless you have the courage to be first in your life.

We have a tendency to over-will the future.

This moment represents a future, too, though.
What about being in it a while?

My Takeaway:
A rush to the future does not guarantee a better future.
A commitment to the moment does.
The foundational decision I’ve made in this new creative cycle is that I will not rush it.
Sometimes, things take the time they take.

2. The Season of Disappearing

It's easy to force our work nowadays due to the obsession with content.

“Make more content!” screams the hustle guru.

For creatives, this leads to two predicaments.

Either they embrace the “content challenge,” constantly creating and sharing, or they resist and feel left behind as others build audiences and cultural clout.

The elephant in the room is that the loudest artists often skip the season that produces the best work.

Those who opt out then struggle to get noticed because cultural gatekeepers demand proof of an audience before considering any work.

This paradox neuters traditional art-making, trapping artists in a never-ending content cycle.

As someone said, “It doesn’t exist unless it’s on YouTube!”

But to make great work, sometimes you have to disappear.

As Goethe said, “Talent is nurtured in a room, but character in the stormy billows of the world.”

In the age of social media, the line between the room and the world is blurred.

Bukowski puts it well: you are always “alone with everybody.” Recognizing this paradox, I have sought a middle path:

a) I won’t release anything this year
b) I will only release the best of what I write
c) I will release only if it meets my highest standard

It’s led to a rollercoaster of a year psychologically. I am vetting my songs hard. If they are going to get to the recording studio—with its commitment of time and expense—I have to know in my gut that they are good.

My Takeaway:
There is value in disappearing for a while. The world is drunk on noise and desensitized. When all the fish swim with the current, have the courage to struggle against it. That’s when you find something new in yourself—something worth saying.

3. Negotiating Blurred Seasons in the Age of Social Media

Gary Vaynerchuk, the CEO and co-founder of VaynerMedia, says:

"There’s no reason to do anything other than content and distribution.”

Yet most people in the arts would say that the most significant work they do is when they are not producing.

That’s when the value in something you release is made.

And yet, to build an audience, it's important to build a relationship with that audience. That means showing up for them.

Having spent a lot of time offline during the pandemic, I wanted to do this project differently.

That meant committing to sharing the process from the start without being drawn into an actual release cycle.

When it comes to the content side, I’ve committed to

a) sharing what I enjoy
b) giving value when I learn something
c) documenting
d) shedding the need to perfect

This approach has helped solve the content problem.

At the start of the year, I realised I was entering a long game.

I decided to take a leap.

What if the product was not the outcome but the creative process itself?

Sharing the creative process without pressurising the creative outcome has helped me in three ways.

First, it means that I’ve kept a hand in the game. While I think disappearing to focus on what you’re working on is sometimes necessary, most creatives need to build an online audience if their work is to reach anyone.

In this, time is your greatest asset.

Given that the creative process is a daily companion, sharing it has been an enjoyable outlet rather than an ongoing disturbance.

It brings companionship, feedback and community.

And having exchange is so alleviating on those days when the path feels lonely or hard!

My God, I am glad for you all!

My Takeaway:
In the digital age, everything is designed to grab your attention. Sometimes, you need to shut it out, and sometimes, to let it in. The critical thing is to be conscientious about the season you are in. Is letting in social media distracting or adding to your path? I’m finding a balance, but it requires continuous effort to be conscious of how I use it.

4. The Season of Improving

The main reason I have decided not to release this year is because I want to improve.

As a human and as a musician.

When I am promoting something, I have less time. “Little jobs” compound like hydras, you’re always on the move, and you have to get your work to market.

Releasing is a season of doing.
Improving is a season of being.

Yes, to improve takes work and a lot of doing too! But it is an entirely different mental space.

Improving requires saying “no” to the world.

You have to zero in.
You have to focus.
You have to find the discipline that exists beyond motivation.

For instance, I had the dream of learning the piano. For twenty years, it was on my list, but it was only when the pandemic hit and the world stopped that I began.

Why?

Because I un-busied myself.

As you get older and your time becomes more limited, it becomes harder to learn new things.

I am still wrestling with the piano!

Some people just get something. But for me, every inch forward has taken conscientious effort.

Eventually, I fulfilled a lifelong dream and wrote and performed my first solo piano piece - Stages of Grief.

Then, when the pandemic finished, my playing stagnated again.

This year, one of the reasons I’m saying “no” to many things is because I want to make space to get better.

That is my season.

It is a slow season.
It is a season of incremental change.
It is a season of probing the edges of talent.

And exploring what is on the other side.

Despite my occasional grumblings about finding this period of testing, I am gradually improving.

As a person and as a player.

It feels really liberating, to make this value my highest.

Because when we improve, we learn something new about ourselves and our relationship with the world.

And even when there’s a tough day, it is always a good day if you’ve improved at something.

My Takeaway:
If this season feels undefined or has left you feeling stuck, take some time to consider the season itself.
If it feels that life is not offering you something, why not go into a season of trying to improve?
In my experience, there is so much we can’t control.
But we can control the decision to reapply ourselves to our lives.

And if that improves you as a person - and as a player - that is not just worthwhile, it is enough.

Who knows what lies on the other side?

With love,

Jim

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