CR 037: Amie McNee on the Rebellious Act of Making Art
The author, podcast host, and champion of creativity discusses her new book, “We Need Your Art.”
Though Amie McNee is, first and foremost, a fiction author, to her 482,000 Instagram followers, she’s so much more: a fierce defender of the arts, a cheerleader for creators, and a constant source of inspiration. Through her podcast, her Substack, and her social media posts, McNee reminds creatives every day that the work they’re doing is not only valid, it’s critical.
Now, she’s published a manifesto, We Need Your Art, through which she encourages readers to create, provides prompts to break through creative blocks, and lays out a two-week reset to help dormant artists establish a sustainable artistic practice. She realizes that in our current political climate, making art might seem frivolous to some, but she argues that it is more essential than ever.
“Art is the way we evoke change in this world,” she says. “Yes, policy, legislation, and activism are an important part of asking for change, but we have to use our art to express ourselves, to hope for a better future. The world changes because of our culture, and our culture is made by creations. We’re constantly underestimating the power of art, and to underestimate it now when we need it the most is terrifying to me. People will say, ‘I’m not a famous artist; I’m not going to change the culture.’ I need people to understand that by taking time out of their day to regulate and use a coloring book, that’s fucking revolutionary. The way that serves you, your body, your nervous system, and the people around you, that is a form of revolution and rebellion and will help this world to become a better place. We’re constantly underestimating these things. I think it’s because we live in a culture that is constantly sidelining the arts as something that’s self-indulgent or not for hard times, when it is literally the opposite of that.”
From her hotel room in New York City, where she was beginning an East Coast book tour, McNee chatted with me over Zoom about the key messages in the book, celebrating small wins, and why choosing yourself and your art is the ultimate act of rebellion.
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SANDRA EBEJER: I’ve been following you on Instagram for years, and you’ve consistently posted powerful, encouraging messages to your followers about pursuing creative work. How did this aspect of your work begin?
AMIE MCNEE: I was documenting what it was like to be a writer, and how vulnerable and wild and hard and beautiful the journey was of creating stuff and putting stuff out there and being rejected. And as I was doing this, I was getting so many people saying, “I don’t write, but I create x, y, z, and this is exactly what I feel.” Initially I was sharing within communities of writers, but I realized this ain’t just about us. The act of making and sharing is such a beautiful, vulnerable, hard thing to do, and none of us have enough support as we do it. And so it evolved as I was listening and sharing and finding community amongst those of us who dare to create things. We all need to be championed, and we need a culture that respects us and takes us seriously. And unfortunately, we just don’t have it at the moment.
You had a great Substack post recently that was titled “I didn’t want a job.” And you write in the book about the shame that comes from saying that. We’re supposed to want to pursue jobs and leave creative pursuits to our time off. What is your message to those reading this about why we should reframe that narrative?
Yeah, it was the most controversial thing I think I’ve ever said. I’ve never had such a large response. I didn’t want a job. I wanted to make stuff with my life. I wanted to have a life full of meaning and creativity and stories, and I felt so embarrassed and ashamed, like there was something inherently wrong with me, because I couldn’t settle into any one job, because I hated every single vocation I chose. I went through so many different genres of work. I hated them all, and I felt very broken, because all I wanted to do was chase my creative callings, to make stuff and create stuff.
So I think the first thing that I want to say to anyone who’s feeling similarly is that it’s entirely fucking normal to not want to labor meaninglessly for somebody else. To want to have a life that is filled with art and creativity and meaning is a beautiful and normal thing for human beings to want. I just want to remove that stigma and remove that shame. And no, we’re not living in a world that makes it easy for us to follow those creative callings or to monetize our creative callings, but it is possible. I want a life that sparkles, and I want everyone else in the world to start demanding a life that sparkles. You’re not asking for too much when you ask for a life that you love. I think that’s something that we need to understand first—you’re not asking for too much when you ask for work that feels meaningful. Or when you say, “I don’t want to work at all. I just want a life of leisure.” This is a beautiful and holy thing, and I want us to remove the shame around it.
Some people will read your book or read this interview or check out your Instagram and think, “Sure, it would be great to live a life where I could just paint or draw full-time, but I have bills to pay. It’s not possible.” What would you say to those people?
It is possible. It is definitely a lot harder for [some] people. We’re going to all exist on a spectrum of having the privileges to much more easily find a life full of art, and other people are going to be squashed down by a system that makes it nearly impossible. But we’ve seen, and we see more than ever now, creatives carving out a life that they love. I think the internet makes it more possible than ever. And I’m not saying, “It’s easy. Just quit your job!” It isn’t easy. I’m angry at the world and the way it is, because it needs to be easier, and our culture needs to shift, the way we view work needs to shift, the way we view art needs to shift. But I want you to start finding ways for you to claim what you can right now, whether that looks like slacking off at work and saving your energy for art after work, whether that looks like building a community of people online who think similarly to you, whether that looks like monetizing your art, putting something up for sale. There are tiny baby steps that we can take that reclaim our power. That say, “I want to build something that actually works for me,” rather than just accepting what’s been handed to us. Because what’s been handed to us fucking sucks.
You’ve written extensively in this book and on social media about how journaling has impacted your life. What role has journaling played in helping you to form your beliefs about art and creativity?
It’s a really lovely question. I have been journaling every single day since April 16, 2018, except for one day. I just randomly forgot one day. But over that extremely long and consistent time, journaling has brought me home to who I am and has made me understand myself in a way that I don’t think I could have without the practice. And even though I don’t explicitly think about the creative act on the pages, because I’m exploring who I am, I’m listening to my inner critic, and I’m examining the narratives I’m experiencing, it was also inextricably linked to the creative process. But it’s very, very personal. I basically just dictate the internal monologue, and then after that I take care of myself. I listen, and then I respond. Of course, over the years, huge amounts of shame has come up about my devotion to the creative act. Pride has come up. There’s been so many different things, it’s almost too big to talk about.
One of the things you write about in the book is that many of us think of ourselves as failures if we don’t get the approval of gatekeepers. For example, if I don’t sign with a major publisher and instead self-publish a novel, my work has no value. How can creatives get past this notion and accept that all art, regardless of how it comes about, has worth?
This is how I did it: For a long time, I thought that I was the biggest fucking failure, because I had to choose myself. No one was choosing me. I self-published, I took up space on my own. I was pushing my books by myself. No one wanted me. Only I wanted to put my art out in the world. And I thought that meant it was failure. But I reframed it slowly into an act of rebellion against a world that is trying to be very picky about which artists are allowed to be seen. By framing it as, “When we pick ourselves and when we anoint and coronate ourselves and take up space,” that’s an act of rebellion against systems that are archaic and discriminatory and not good for society. That’s how I managed to get behind what I was doing. I love the archetype of the rebel, so it was an easier way for me to shift from “this means no one wants me” to “this is an act of revolution, and this is a movement that I’m a part of and that I’m leading.” And if you choose to take up space on your own, whether you’re putting your music out on YouTube, you’re hosting your own galleries in your own home—there are so many different ways to do it no matter what form of art you create—you are a part of the revolution. And that, to me, feels better than that constant narrative of, “Oh, nobody wanted you.” You had to pick yourself. Understand that that is the most powerful thing you’ll do in your whole life.
I’d like to talk about social media. One of the things you write about is silence as a failure—as in, “I’ve posted something I’m proud of, but no one has paid it any attention, so it’s probably a clue that I should just quit.” But in the book, you write something I really loved, which is, “Silence is an invitation to pick yourself first.” Can you expand upon that a bit?
It’s so, so upsetting to receive silence after you’ve done something so vulnerable and shared your art. It was traumatic for me. I could not handle the silence. I found it so painful because I wanted to be seen. And I think to have this conversation, we need to understand that wanting to be seen is not a bad thing. It’s not vain, it’s not selfish, it’s not self-indulgent, it’s not shallow. It’s so valid to want to be seen. But we will all navigate the silence. You can’t avoid it. Most of us will navigate it for years. How are you going to stick that out?
For me and the many creatives that I’ve worked with, the way we handle the silence is by, again, ferociously picking yourself. It is an opportunity for you to be on your side, because it’s very easy to go the other way and for you to become the antagonist in your own story. You think, “I shared this beautiful piece that meant so much to me. No one responded. That must mean something about me.” We develop this inner critic that says, “You’re a piece of shit. Nobody wants to listen to you. Nobody likes you. You’re a loser. Why are you doing this?” We can go that route, or we can go the route where we say, “No one’s seeing it, but I still back myself. I’m going to do it again.” And when you do it again after the silence, that is such a profound act of resiliency and commitment. To receive silence and be like, “I’m going again!” To do it the fucking 40th time, after you’ve received silence? You are phenomenal and so fantastic.
And the silence will crack eventually. If you keep listening to your curiosity and creativity, you will find people, maybe one or two here, one or two there. The silence will crack, but we must be able to endure it. I love that you picked that line out of the book. Silence is an opportunity and an invitation for you to pick yourself. You must be your own first fan. Imagine being your own first critic, your own first troll. This is not the way we want to go, but it is unfortunately the way so many artists go on this journey.
What was the writing process like for this book? You cover so much ground and it’s clear you did a ton of preparation and research.
Why can’t I remember, Sandy? [Laughs] Why is the writing process like this? I did it very fast. I had a really, really tight deadline of two months, so that first draft was done rapidly. I had been preparing to write this book for 10 years, though, and I had chapters that I’d written stored on my computer, so I had this body of work. I knew that I wanted to culminate all of this experience and thoughts and ideas into this book, so for a long time it had been brewing. And then I was like, “Let go.” Because I had such a tight timeline, it was just like a brain dump.
I knew my topics; I knew the things I wanted to cover. The biggest problem for me was the structure. How do you structure the creative journey? Because it isn’t linear. You have a huge issue with perfectionism, get over it, and then 10 years later, you’re like, “Everything I do has to be perfect again!” There is no natural progression through the creative journey, so structuring was super difficult.
You are a source of inspiration for so many people. Who do you turn to when seeking artistic inspiration?
Such a plethora of artists and creatives. Just watching us, the creatives, do our work, is the most magic thing for me. I’m in New York City right now, so I’m seeing a huge amount of graffiti art and murals, and they’re so beautiful. Just seeing how, no matter the circumstances, we as a species cannot be stopped in terms of our creative urge. We have to make stuff. And so I see art everywhere, and that really keeps me going. But in terms of a person, I have a very collaborative partnership with my husband, who’s also a writer. Lots of idea sharing there, and lots of support happening there, as well. If I had to pluck a writer out of the air, Seth Godin was incredibly important for me. His book The Icarus Deception took away a lot of my shame for wanting to do life differently, because the whole book is about how we’ve been sold this story that we’ve been flying too close to the sun, which will get you burnt. I always felt like I was asking for too much; I was flying too close to the sun. And he says it is the deception. “Fly close to the sun” is the message of that whole book.
Does it get exhausting to be the cheerleader for everyone else? You have such a positive attitude about all of this. But do you ever have days where you’re just like, “I can’t be everyone’s support today”?
Yeah, of course. Sometimes I’m like, “This is so hard. I can’t be bothered. I just won’t post.” [Laughs] Or I share that [it’s hard]. This journey is so up and down. I never prep any of my posts. They’re always something I think of on the day, so a lot of things that I share are things that I’ve experienced as a creative. I write fiction. That’s my art form. I write fiction every day. So I stumble across something that interests me about the creative journey every single day, because I create every single day, and that’s what I tend to share. And yeah, it trends hopeful because I’m fucking determined to be hopeful. I think that a big part of the artist’s job is hope. And so I do try and stay there. But I’m the most emotional, up and down lady in the world. Some days I will just be fully out of it, and I have to take it easy. And I know those moments pass.
It’s hard to boil your book down to a few talking points because there’s so much in its pages. But what would you say are the key things you’d love for readers to take away from it?
There’s two things. First, I want you to leave the first section of the book feeling undeniably sure that what you’re doing is very important. Because we come from a culture where art is lucky for some. “Someone’s got time to paint.” That kind of narrative. I need artists to feel validated, and I need them to feel like they’re taking this seriously, because it is serious. Yeah, art is play and fun, but it is so fucking serious.
Second, I want people to understand how very, very capable they are. The first [part of the] book is convincing you this is worth it, and the second part of the book is convincing you that you can absolutely do this and that it is worth your precious time to try. And giving people the tools to create abundant, regular, consistent practices that will always be hard. This is a hard journey to be on, but that you have the tools to navigate those harder times—this is what I really wanted to do with this book.
You write in the book that celebrating milestones and small wins is an important part of the creative process. How are you celebrating the release of your book?
It is a big week. We are on tour at the moment, me and James, my partner, and we’ve built in a lot of space on this tour. We’re not even calling it a tour; we’re calling it the victory lap. We’ve got 10 days in New York, which is absolutely not necessary, but we’re going to be spending a lot of the time having good meals, walking around, enjoying the city. Similarly, when we go to Australia and Amsterdam and Berlin, we’ve couched in time so that we get to enjoy this travel. It’s like a little book holiday for us to soak it up and enjoy it, rather than feeling like we’ve got to jump from one thing to the next. So I am currently celebrating by being on my victory lap.
To learn more about Amie McNee, visit her website.
To purchase We Need Your Art, click here.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
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Loved this. I ordered the book a while back 🙏
This is such a great interview and such a great example for people who don't know how to promote their books, to think about articles like this. Thank you for sharing.