I look back over my creative output in the past…months? Year? Two years? I simultaneously feel I have produced too much and too little. Thoughts like:
I need to produce more work, and feel more comfortable with throwing work away or maybe with sharing subpar work. I need to become more comfortable with not working, or planning for work, or being self-critical about my work, or otherwise take the initiative to actively improve the quality of my work. Creating art is a privilege and I should take it more seriously. I should avoid repeating myself. I should embrace repeating myself because some of my favorite creators have beautiful, fully formed bodies of work rife with repetition. I need to get back to writing regularly about comics. I need to stop reading comics for a while. I need to read all the comics I own and haven’t read. I need to get off the Internet. I need to write those emails I owe people. I should take up more non-comics personal projects, like working on my languages or reading Difficult Books. I need to stop whining, and certainly stop whining on the Internet. Et cetera.
“You can’t tear your hair because literary prestige attaches to a published novel rather than to a series of posts in the drafts folder. If something wants to write 19 hours a day and put the results in the drafts folder, you have to trust where it comes from.” – Helen DeWitt