Ditch “Stay in your lane” backlash: How to change lanes in work, life, art, etc.
You don’t always have to “stay in your lane” because sometimes the lane you’re in doesn’t get you where you want to go.
As someone who has done many different types of art, craft, work, etc. with varying degrees of depth. I generally don’t hold with “stay in your lane” nonsense.*
Mixed-media, cross-pollination, creating in the space where two fields overlap, having a wide range of interests and disciplines, all create some magnificent works.
It is also true that people tend to get confused (at best) when you try to change lanes. “Stay in your own lane” is a common criticism.
But the reality is, sometimes the lane you’re in doesn’t get you where you want to go. If you’re driving in the middle of the highway, and you want to exit, you need to change lanes.
From my experience, “stay in your lane” is most often said almost automatically as a reaction to change, and sometimes to try and keep people in their place.
Sometimes it’s said in a “I liked what you were doing, please don’t change” way. Sometimes it’s said in a “how dare you try something different” way. Some people are protective of their lanes and don’t want others entering. Sometimes it’s said for no reason other than that’s what they say when someone tries something new.
But some people manage to change lanes in their business, their life, their art, etc without getting too much of this blowback. They might hear “this new direction isn’t for me” or “I’ll stick with your older works” or “I’m not so sure about this.” But less reactionary “stay in your lane.” How might that be?
Because there’s a skill to changing lanes. Whether in your creative process, life, business, or anything really (including highways).
So how do you change lanes without causing a metaphorical road hazard? Here’s how I think about it:
1. Understand the landscape. What lane are you currently in? Where are you trying to go? How far away is it? Why are you trying to get there? Get clear about the landscape first. It makes the rest of the process a lot easier.
2. Understand the conditions. Who else is on the road? How crowded is it? How large a gap do you need? How frequently do those gaps appear? How angry is someone going to be if you merge too close to them? The conditions don’t need to be ideal, but you do need to understand them.
3. Signal and look for the opening. This part might be the most important and also the most overlooked when changing personal or professional lanes. Surprises are not always appreciated.**
4. Get it done. This is why step 1 is so important – knowing where you are, where you’re trying to go, and how to get there, helps you stay focused. You can always change back to your previous lane, but driving in between lanes is not cool.
If you change lanes badly and people will be (understandably) confused
When we’re driving and change lanes improperly, we understand that’s on us. But we don’t apply the same understanding to changing lanes in our business, our art, our life, and then get annoyed when people are confused.
If the people yelling at us are in the metaphorical car with us, it’s because they don’t know where we’re going anymore.
If the people yelling at us are in the lane we’re merging into, it’s because they also don’t know where you’re going or what you’re doing.
If you decide to change lanes in your business, or life, or art, etc. without understanding the landscape, without understanding the conditions, without signaling and looking for an opening, and then half-ass it, don’t be surprised when there’s backlash.
*The types of projects I’ve done include: theater, writing, lifestyle, designing, business, fiber arts, etc. (many of which have been documented here over the years.)
**Some people don’t even like change they know is coming. (See: Taylor Swift’s career and The Life of a Show Girl discourse.)
Photo by Denys Nevozhai on Unsplash
First glimpses of fall
A collection of the first glimpses of fall from an early September walk in the woods.
We’re at the very beginning of leaves turning their fall colors here. I’m always taken a little bit by surprise how quickly fall arrives once the leaves start to turn – cold mornings with warm afternoons, colorful landscape, crunchy leaves, sweaters, cider, etc.
But before fall officially makes itself known, there are hints and glimpses of the season changing that are easy to miss. Here’s a collection from a few weeks ago, when we were in that time between the end of summer and beginning of fall.
The first glimpses of fall from an early September walk in the woods:
🥾 First walk in boots! Keeping your feet warm and dry is A+. (Even if your feet don’t cramp when they’re cold, like mine do.)
🧥 Wondering “maybe I should have brought a jacket?” but being fine without it. The classic between seasons conundrum.
⛈️ The cool damp smell after the rain. Smells regenerative.
🍎 Hot apple spice tea. Not quite cider weather yet, but getting there.
🕷️ “Do you want this?” Halloween decor texts. Of course I want the spider tea light holders! (Halloween season is also when I got the tray I use to contain my dishes.)
🌬️ Crisp breezes replacing humid ones. And springy forest floors replacing dry ones.
🍂 First hint of a crispy leaf. A single crunch here and there, hinting at the piles of leaves to come.
📙 Cozy (very) early mornings in the dark. And trying to remember where you put your book light.
🌚 Eclipse season.
🍄 Mushroom logs.
🌿 Browning fern forests.
❤️ Red ground berries.
💧 Ending a walk with a half full water bottle instead of an empty one.
🌳 Acorns falling on your head and pinecone sap sticking to your boots.
😅 A sheen of sweat replacing buckets. (Fortunately I didn’t take that jacket.)
It’s collections of glimpses like these that remind me not to rush from one season to the next. They let me savor the moment watching the world turn.
Photo by Mihály Köles on Unsplash
Is writing about writing still writing?
The title is a little tongue in cheek perhaps, but here’s a glimpse into how I’m thinking through my own curious lack of writing.
Maybe it’s writer’s block. Maybe it’s being busy. Maybe it’s thinking I can do two things at once. Maybe it’s living through whatever they’ll call this moment of time in history books. Maybe it’s something else entirely.
If you’re a writer with this same tension, I’d love to hear your thoughts on your own writing/not-writing tensions.
Good morning, a rare open schedule day – lots to do, but no timed commitments. And I would like to use this scheduling gift to carve out some writing time.
I do think the lack of longer form writing and the idea development and testing that comes with it is indicative of a problem. I’m just not quite sure what that problem is.
Maybe it’s the state of things at large. Maybe it’s personal. Maybe it’s energy vampires.
Maybe I don’t actually need to know the problem, because I know the solution is writing.
Step 1: Fill paper with words.
Step 2: Turn words into sentences.
Step 3: Turn sentences into paragraphs.
Step 4: Repeat.
Maybe the form needs to change: a blank page instead of my running document, or handwriting instead of typing, or voice to text instead of paper.
Or maybe it’s a question of time: create the time container and cement it into the schedule.
Or maybe it’s a topic question: create a series, or a menu, or freewrite and decide if it goes any further later.
Maybe it’s a commitment question: decide a standard and relish in the freedom of not needing to decide.
Like right now, I’m writing about writing and it feels like that doesn’t count because it isn’t in a form that can be given to anyone else.
It appears some part of me thinks that writing “doesn’t count” unless it’s typed.
I think that comes from believing that the ultimate point of writing is to communicate. And the point of writing for yourself is to communicate with yourself.
But what is the point of only ever communicating with yourself? That leads to being trapped in the echo-chamber of your own self, and I think the echos would eventually be maddening.
Life and communication are interpersonal pursuits.
But coming back to the question at hand.
On a more practical, less philosophical level, I have a number of non-writing projects with very easy on-ramps and very clear next steps, which makes them easy to pick up and move forward. At the moment, I don’t have any writing projects with those qualities.
Writing about whatever grabs your attention may have worked in the past. But it is not working at the moment.
Maybe the project just needs to be: write the next idea on the list unless something better comes up.
Again, if you’re a writer with this same tension or unmoored feeling, I’d love to hear your thoughts on your own writing/not-writing tension.
PS. since writing this out, the spell seems to have broken. I’ve written a few more essays and a few more emails with delight and ease.
So maybe the next time this happens, I just need to write it out.
Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
