What I've Learned from the Villain Challenge

In September I was scrolling through TikTok, when I discovered a creator named Vanessa Aldrich. Aldrich posted a series of videos discussing a creative challenge she invented called the Villain Challenge. I was immediately drawn in.

The challenge is structured similarly to 75 Hard, except entirely focused on the creative process and the ways in which we get in our own way. It's interesting because I didn't feel particularly stuck creatively when I decided to join. But I know something subconscious must have been calling me to dig deeper and figure out the subtle, lethal ways I have been holding myself back.

I joined the official Discord server, moderated by Vanessa herself, and started the challenge in earnest. Participants were first tasked with constructing their own villains to "battle" and break through blocks in the creative process. These villains were to be rooted in the sources of our creative futilities, personalized to each participant. This challenge is essentially a potent, dynamic form of shadow work.

My villainess's name is KAIRA (she prefers her name in all caps). She is a 38-year old multimedia mogul and the current richest woman in the world. She's always front-cover pop culture news for her business savvy, lofty ambitions, and diva attitude. She is also stone-hearted, an unapologetic unethical billionaire, and insufferable nepo baby.

And to reiterate, the goal was never to become the villain. My villain is purposely designed to challenge some of my core moral belief systems. But we can all learn from our villains. Our villains hold wisdoms that we already know but won't let ourselves know.

Practically, the challenge consisted of a set of daily requirements that our cohort of villains were expected to carry out for 30 days straight:

• 45 minutes of the integral creative work you always put off

• 45 minute workout

• Villain journal pages

• 10 minute meditation

• Pristine villain lair (home/creative space)

• Giving up one vice

• Daily villain embodiment

Some elements of the challenge definitely came easier than others. I have been pretty consistently active for over 4 years, so the workout step was no issue. Neither were the journaling nor the clean villain lair. The hardest, yet most crucial, requirement was definitely embodying KAIRA.

I go on a walk everyday, on weekdays it's back and forth from work, and on weekends I take a nature walk. I would embody KAIRA on these walks, imagining what it felt like to be someone who was completely entitled and felt like they owned everyone and everything. Imagining what it felt like to love attention and revel in being obsessed over. It was definitely out of my comfort zone at first, but now I know what it feels like to "shift" into that state.

Here's what I've learned from getting to know my worst enemy----and ally:

I had already established a routine of working in at least 1.5 hours of music time each day. But I realized that I was not using that time as diligently as I could be. I had been avoiding the more tedious, rigorous work that I knew would take me to the next level in terms of creative skill. So now I have dedicated time blocks within my music time to focus on specific skills, like singing, writing, and playing guitar. I was also avoiding making bigger moves that I knew could boost my career, like networking at local gigs and building a robust solo set.

Now, why was I avoiding the actual meaningful work? Fear.

KAIRA did not hold back as I was peeling back the subconscious layers. Through this internal dialogue/monologue, I learned that I was afraid to take myself seriously as a musician. I was afraid of actually putting the work in and then the possibility of ending up a failure even after all of the effort. Built into this fear is an inherent belief that I didn't have what it takes to be a successful musician. Ouch. A belief that my art is meaningless and doesn't add up to anything, especially if I'm not seeing proof of its impact in views or money.

I've been afraid to invest into my music, both creatively and monetarily. I've made some money, but have been stingy about reinvesting it into creating even better output, whether that be purchasing better gigging equipment or working with a professional studio engineer. I have this fear that I will be judged or shamed for taking myself seriously, especially since I haven't achieved massive music success in the traditional, capitalistic sense.

I've had to work through what music actually means to me and accept the fact that it is my vocation and lifelong passion. Even if it doesn't pay the bills right now. I can no longer turn away from it or sideline it in my life. That was one of the scariest things I've ever had to admit to myself in my life.

I simply have to see this music thing through. I have to create and improve and collaborate and share.

I'm still working through dismantling my self-limiting beliefs. I ultimately want to de-center myself from my creative process. My art should be at the center of my process, not me, not my self-involved worries and fears. My art does not owe me anything, not money, not fame, not respect. But I do owe my art my continuous involvement and presence. I do matter insofar as my art matters.

I'm learning to be okay with dreaming big and asking directly for what I want, like KAIRA would. KAIRA would not make herself small for anyone. KAIRA would not let anyone get in the way of her mission.

What's my mission? I'm still figuring it out. But I do know that I am calling myself a musician, because I am. I want to connect with other creatives and grow together. I want to help lonely, misunderstood people feel a little more loved and connected. I want my music to create a safe space for people to get vulnerable and understand themselves better and be more empathetic and compassionate. And I want the platform to be able to create this space.

I am excited to be witness to my creative unfolding. I hope this post inspires your unfolding as well :)

(Bonus side quest: I got my first tattoo!)