I wrote in a little notebook that I won’t let myself write because deep down I don’t believe it’s worthwhile. I accepted that and wrote a list of things to do, little things I am supposed to do somewhere down the line. And then I got up and did them. Three hours later I feel great. Weirdly great. Like I took an antidepressant or did a line of cocaine.
Maybe I should just accept that I’m a practical person instead of trying to make myself into an artist.
nope, you just needed some immediate gratification, some sense of quick fulfilment and satisfaction .Art doesn’t give you that – you slog your heart out until you have nothing left to give and yet you will STILL never be satisfied with a peice of your own art.
You’re so smart. Thanks 🙂