Being an artist and being frustrated seem to go hand in hand. In my experience, you can't have one without the other; it's a mutually exclusive relationship, like a roller coaster that constantly goes up and down with a depressing ebb and flow; you stroll down the street holding your lover's hand, and then as a joke they push you in front of a bus.
All of this is to say that I've been plagued with self-doubt lately regarding my creative projects and the direction I should be taking with them. It probably doesn't help that I'm also facing a professional quandary as well. There was a long stretch of time when I first started my current job where my work life left me feeling creatively fulfilled (I work in the television industry) and so my personal projects took a back seat. I always knew that if I were to work in a field that didn't allow me to express my creativity in some way, I'd probably be working much more feverishly in my downtime.
My current contract expires in a few months, however, and right now there's a big fat question mark sitting at the end of that road. I can't expect to stay on at my current place of business, and the desire to formulate a plan of action that would see me build a career on my writing and other talents has been on the rise. I don't expect to suddenly become a best-selling author in a few short months, but it's certainly a shit-or-get-off-the-pot moment for me, where I've realized that if I want to make a living as an artist creating their own work then I gotta get this gravy train rolling and on its way out of the station.
There's just one nagging question: where the hell do I start?
Where the hell does any artist start? There isn't a handbook for this sort of thing, and this is where the relationship with frustration starts to pick away at your confidence and withhold sex. You can train to be an artist, go to school to perfect and practice your skills, but making your way in the world? That's a different story entirely. Almost all of the artists I admire (which includes those who work in film, literature, and other mediums) all had a different recipe for success that seem one part talent and three parts pure damn luck. There were those who went to school and made connections which led to subsequent employment, and they simply climbed the ladder from there; there were those who simply created with no better intention than to make their work available for free until people finally noticed; and then there are those who fell somewhere in the middle, who created the right thing at the right time with the right people watching.
But where does that leave the rest of us?
I currently have multiple projects on the go, and I don't know what to do with any of them. I feel like I'm one of those people who should just create without worrying about the business side of things, because I swear the business aspect of the artist-driven industry sucks every last morsel of fun from the creative side. I love to sit down and write a story, but I dread thinking about submitting it to publishers, which is why everything I've done is almost available exclusively through this blog.
As it stands, I'm currently writing a new novel, which I'm releasing episodically. Writing novels is my bread and butter; I wish I could do that and nothing else and just be allowed to survive comfortably doing it. I'd love to only write and think nothing of what needed to be done afterward, but there's this niggling doubt in the back of my head. It says things like, "what's the point of writing something if you can't market it so people will actually read it?" and "maybe you're just not good enough to make a living as an artist, and that's why nothing's happened yet."
Those are paralyzing thoughts, and they're strangling the creative spark in me. I just want to create, but I (like every artist before and all of those still to be born) realize that unless I have a means to support myself, I won't have the freedom to create the things I want. And because the world doesn't owe me a damn thing, the only outlet I have to vent is this blog.
I've spent the last few days researching literary agents, and I think I just need to come to terms with the fact that I absolutely suck with the business side of things. For all the creative spark in me, there's that voice in my mind that likes to rear its ugly head to cut down the enthusiasm.
For every blog article posted, there's: "Only the same four people will end up reading it."
For every book written, there's: "You've already written a bunch and they weren't good enough."
For every song played, there's: "Now you just have to compete with everyone on YouTube."
For every film idea, there's: "You don't have the resources to do it properly."
For every screenplay, there's: "You don't have the right connections, and the Canadian industry sucks anyway."
I'm starting to think my mind is my own worst enemy (a hypothesis I've been contemplating for awhile now) but I get the sense that every artist - or at least everyone who considers themselves an artist - experiences the same crippling self-doubt at one point or another. It's the line between wanting to create and wanting recognition, or at the very least wanting the means to continue creating comfortably without wondering how you'll afford food next month. Perhaps it's fueled by ego and greed. Perhaps it's an aspect of human nature.
Perhaps it's my mind indicating it might be best to take a break and clear my head for a bit.
Or perhaps it's time I stop complaining and just keep creating without giving a fuck about the rest.
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