Where I dont upload any pictures. I've been on a lack-of-doodles slump and I would like to blame it on the fact I dont have a sketchpad at the moment, but that's never stopped me before. I can draw on anything so long as it holds a mark (and can preferably be scanned into a computer). I will however blame it on stress, work, and writing. These days most of my doodle time cedes to the aforementioned.
All this aside, I had some thoughts on why artists & creators tend to be their own worst critics. Its something that most people who are friends, family, or even just co-workers of creators should be blatantly aware of. As soon as we put some art work, story, or game in the world, where people can interact, view, or play with, we doubt ourselves. We brace in anticipation of harsh criticism. Why did I do that? We ask. Why did I write that story like that? Why did I think I could write at all? Why did I post that picture, didn't I know it wouldn't be received? Why did I think I could make a game? (or in most cases, help make a game).
Its true, in one of the eternal perverse struggles of a content creator, we desperately desire an audience for our work. We want people to read our stories. To view our art. To play with our games. We starve for an audience, and some of us (myself included) yearn for critique. Not criticism, mind you. Not trolls or vitriol, not hatred or anger. As much as we want fans, we mostly want peers. People who understand the form we toil in, who we consider at the very least our equals. Its more than validation (thought its a bit about validation, especially if we feel we are impostors in a form we admire if not adore) its about getting better. If all you have are fans, how can you improve? You need the guidance of those who came before you, who shape the craft. That is, after all, why meet-ups, workshops, and classes exist.
We put ourselves out there because we must. Art cannot exist in a vacuum. Even when we believe ourselves impostors; even when we believe our work is paltry, pathetic, worse than an imitation, we ask others to view it. And we can be our own worst critics because we know how to battle ourselves. We know how to be harsher than the average consumer. We know all the faults, flaws, and mistakes in our work. Because of how close we get to what we create. When you surround yourself in your work, delve deep into the creative process, you become blind to what you're doing. All you see, throughout your struggles to create what your mind designs, are what you do wrong. So when you put it out into the world (despite the crushing self-doubt and needless anxiety – the desire to be viewed trumping even the greatest fear) the finished product is never right. Its merely as good as its going to get.
We struggle to see the created work as a whole.
My personal mantra has recently changed from "do it because you have no mental choice" (like write or draw, two compulsive habits of mine I've fed and nourished from childhood) to "fake it till you make it." It stems from my recent foray into the "real working world" – something that I find a bit too silly to take most days. For some bizarre reason, people want me to create art for them – and will pay me to do it! Are they blind? Crazy? Artistically challenged? Obviously, the answer to all of these is a resounding NO. These companies are run by smart, capable people who actually like my work. WHAT??? WHAAAAT???? I find myself asking. Because its hard to get over being an artist. Its hard to see past all the flaws to the good. But you have to fake-it-till-you-make-it. Thats the only way to improve; the only way to make it in this "real working world." Because, I believe you'll find, everyone else is doing the same.
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