When you feel like your work sucks.

dsudis:

I was going to reblog a whole bunch of things on this topic but then I thought I could do this more efficiently in a single post. So, links!

1. You have permission to make as much bad art as you need to and it will be okay. Seriously, it’s okay! It’s fine! YOU ARE NOT BEING GRADED. Make whatever you want, decide later who you’ll show it to. If it’s terrible it still taught you something or entertained you and more importantly, you still made some art. Now you can make some different art! Possibly also still terrible, but who cares? Make as much terrible art as you need to! For whatever value of “terrible” and “need” apply in your case! You do you!

2. If you are worrying about how people will receive it remember: more art = more cake. You are comparing your work to the work you admire most, but the person hungrily clicking through AO3 notifciations and tumblr tags is comparing your work to NOTHING TO READ. People want more stuff! And you are making stuff! Everybody wins!

3. “For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit.” As Ira Glass explains–again, you’re comparing your own work to the work you admire most. You have the critical eye to tell the difference, but you don’t know how to produce something better yet. Well, the only way out is through. You can quit make stuff and sit back and criticize other people, or you can just keep trying and failing and trying again and failing again and failing better.

4. “That still happens occasionally. It’s like, ‘Oh my god, nothing I’m drawing looks any good anymore. My life is over as an artist.’” Walt Simonson explains that not only does this thing Ira Glass described happen when you’re starting out, it happens over and over as you improve. You have to develop the eye for something better before you can learn to produce it–which means that over and over you may go through periods where your own work doesn’t meet your expectations, even if for a while there it did.

5. And this isn’t even a linear process toward some Ideal Perfect Best Writing/Arting Self, as T. S. Eliot describes…

Because one has only learnt to get the better of words 
For the thing one no longer has to say, or the way in which 
One is no longer disposed to say it.

Sure, you might know how to write or draw one particular thing really well–but as soon as you decide to try something new or different, you’re starting all over again. Probably you bring a lot of tools and techniques with you, but still, you’re in new territory. Change fandoms, pairings, styles, artistic focus, kinkmemes, whatever–you’ve got something to learn again, and it takes time to get there.

6. In Conclusion: Writing is about dealing with failure all the time.

7. But the only way to get anywhere is to show up and do the work.