naming the monsters
The Artist’s Way — Week 01 (deep dive)
watch the full deep dive on YouTube (click the link above)
I’ve been living as a shadow artist for most of my life, and I didn’t even know it.
Julia Cameron says that “audacity, not talent, makes one person an artist and another person a shadow artist.”
A shadow artist is someone who orbits around art but doesn’t make it. Someone who reads every book, watches every film, studies every master, but never picks up the brush themselves. Someone who judges themselves so harshly that creating becomes impossible.
Shadow artists didn’t receive sufficient nurturing, Cameron writes. They blame themselves for not acting fearlessly anyway. But how do you know if you’re an artist? There isn’t proof. It’s like that scene in The Matrix when Neo asks the Oracle how he’ll know, and she says, “Being the one is like being in love - no one can tell you you’re in love, you just know.”
I’ve always been obsessed with reading and learning and being inspired by others’ greatness. But instead of propelling me forward, it only made me paralyzed to try.
There’s this beautiful clip of Ethan Hawke talking about creativity that gave me permission I didn’t know I needed. He says: “It’s not up to us whether what we do is any good, and if history has taught us anything - the world is an extremely unreliable critic.”
“Art is not luxury, it’s sustenance.” – Ethan Hawke
The Core Negative Beliefs
Cameron has this devastating list of core negative beliefs that shadow artists carry. These are the top ones that gutted me:
It will upset my mother and/or father. (How dare I ruin their sacrifice of immigrating to this country by becoming an artist)
I will never have any real money.
I will die.
I will feel bad because I don’t deserve to be successful.
It’s too late. If I haven’t become a fully functioning artist yet, I never will.
That “I will die” one? That’s not metaphorical for me. But I’ll get to that.
Homework: The Three Creative Monsters
One of the Week 01 assignments is to identify your three creative monsters - the voices that keep you from creating. I got stuck on this one. I couldn’t seem to get anywhere at first, but through a series of self-diagnosis and asking myself deeper, intentional questions, I unearthed them, and even better—I gave each monster a name.
Monster #1: Moby Dick
The voice: “You’re not special enough to make anything worth anything.”
I haven’t seen or thought about this particular book for decades, maybe since I was 9 years old. It was called “The 100: A Ranking of the Most Influential Persons in History.” My father was obsessed with greatness, and this book was a constant reminder that if you’re going to do anything, you better be great at it, and if you’re not great, then don’t even bother trying.
I’ve always been obsessed with reading and learning and being inspired by others’ greatness. But instead of propelling me forward, it only made me scared to try. Because I’m not measuring myself against my peers or even against professionals in my field. I’m measuring myself against the 100 most influential people in history.
Moby Dick is the impossible white whale I can never catch. The obsession that will destroy me if I let it.
Monster #2: Ursula
The voice: “No one cares. You’ll never be one of the greats. You’re just a never-was.”
Here’s the weird thing about this one - I actually love sharing my work. I have the courage to put it out there. But after I share something, this voice shows up and tells me it doesn’t matter because no one cares.
It’s my inner saboteur telling me that my work isn’t moving, inspiring, or impactful enough. A big part of me wants the validation, the flowers. But that doesn’t even matter to this voice. This voice says I’ll never be one of the greats. I’ll just be a never-was.
Ursula is the sea witch who steals your voice and makes you feel worthless. She works hand in hand with Moby Dick - even when people do respond positively to my work, she reminds me that I’m still not one of the greats, so what’s the point?
Monster #3: Mean Aunties
The voice: Suffocating with judgement.
This one is different from the other two. This one doesn’t tell me I’m not good enough. This one knows I’m great. It knows I have infinite value. But it won’t even let me get a word in or start, because it’s afraid of my power. It’s afraid of what it means to hold that power and unleash it.
When I tried to understand what this monster was afraid would happen if I actually unleashed that power, I realized: I will die.
I got hit a lot as a kid when I was too big or expressive or bold. My mom would hit me, and it literally scared me. It’s a South Asian culture thing that aunties and moms constantly judge and compare their kids - how fat I was, how smart I was compared to someone else’s kid. You had to thread this impossible needle: be impressive enough to compare well, but not so impressive that you were too much. Be accomplished but submissive. Be great, but small.
It’s with this monster that I learned that being big, expressive, bold - being myself - was literally dangerous. So this monster isn’t trying to be mean. It’s trying to keep me alive. It learned that my power, my bigness, my full self equals harm and danger.
The Trap They Built Together
Here’s how these three monsters work as a team to keep me from creating:
Mean Auntie stops me from even starting - she suffocates the impulse, keeps me frozen, because creating anything means being seen, being big, being expressive... and that’s threatening.
But let’s say I push past her and actually create something. I finish it, I share it (because I’m brave). That’s when Ursula shows up and poisons it: “No one cares. This isn’t moving or impactful.”
And underneath both of them, Moby Dick is the foundation - the impossible standard that makes sure nothing I do will ever be enough. Because I’m measuring myself against The 100 Most Influential People in History. Against true heroic greatness.
It’s a perfect closed loop. Before, during, and after - they’ve got every exit covered.
Once I could see them clearly, name them, understand where they came from... that was the first step to not letting them run my life anymore.
The Three Creative Champions
But Julia Cameron doesn’t just make you face the monsters. She asks you to remember the champions too - the moments when someone saw you and believed in you.
Champion #1: My Name in a Book
My college friend Joshua Kent Bookman used my name in his first published book. I’d never seen my name in a book before. But my father had - he found the name “Asa” in a book as a boy and always loved it. So when I opened up my friend’s novel to see my name for the first time, it was incredibly emotional. I truly felt so special, so seen. The full circle of it - my name that came from a book, now in a book.
Champion #2: Adrienne’s Monologue
My favorite college professor of acting was Adrienne Krystansky, and I felt like she really saw me. One of the most powerful moments in her class was when she gifted me her personal monologue - the one she used for all her auditions. I remember feeling confused: why would she give little old me her monologue? I felt the other students in class sense the bigness of it. Wow, she really likes you and what you have to offer.
Every time I did that monologue, I felt like a superhero. Like she anointed me.
Champion #3: Teaching Meditation Live
The first time I taught meditation to a live audience during meditation teacher training was a weekend I flew to NYC. I was bone tired from training and a series of bad sleep nights. But I delivered this meditation - from entering the room to curated Bollywood music to a heartfelt dharma talk. I felt like I had everyone in the palm of my hand.
My only objective was to generate love, and I know love more than I know most things. The room was vibrating with love after we were still for a moment after it ended. Like we had just created something perfect.
And then a floodgate of emotions came over me. Like I was doing and being exactly who I was meant to be for the first time in over 11 years. The tears poured out of me like poison oozing out of a wound, and everyone in the audience - my fellow trainees - rushed up and we embraced and it was a human mandala. A perfect design. The love was palpable and thick.
It left such a lasting impression on me of who I am. And the power I have when I don’t hold back.
The Five Imaginary Lives
The last exercise was to list five imaginary lives. Here are mine:
A film director
A somatic movement teacher (yoga, freestyle, pole)
A surfer
A coffee shop owner
A flower farmer
What’s beautiful about this exercise is realizing that parts of all of these already exist in me. I’m not starting from zero.
What I’m Learning
Week 1 is about permission. Permission to be bad in order to be good. Permission to create without being one of the 100 most influential people in history. Permission to be big, expressive, bold - even if scared.
“To live a creative life we must lose our fear of being wrong.” –Joseph Clinton Pierce
I’m learning that this work is about seeing the monsters clearly. Because once you can see them, name them, understand them... they start to lose their power. They’re still there. But now I know who’s talking. And I can choose whether to listen.
The morning pages? I’m being honest - I didn’t do great with them this week. I need to commit deeper. The artist date? I watched the first two films of the Before trilogy and planning to watch Before Midnight soon.
This is just the beginning. Week 2 is coming.
I’d love to hear about your creative monsters. What are they? Where did they come from? How do they keep you from creating?
Til next time.
This is Week 01 of my journey through The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. Follow along as I work through 12 weeks of creative recovery.