Create Like You're Dying (You Are)

Hello, darklings.

I’ve recently taken on a new cat. Long story short, it was a cat that I rescued from a coworker who was going to drop him off at a kill shelter. I later gave the snuggle-butt to my mum who lives some four hours away, who then gave him to my sister, who lives in the same area. But then he got ill and was being bullied by a bigger cat there, and since neither can really afford vet bills, we agreed it’s best he return to me. 

Atreyu remains as cuddly as ever. Vet gave him a clean bill of health, but did note his broken tooth would become an issue. Over next few months, I’ll be making sure he regains healthy weight and no concerns crop up that would make anesthesia a bad idea. Then we’ll get that tooth fixed before ol’ boy can experience the joy of an infected fang. 

This, people, is why I work a gawdawful amount of overtime: so I can take care of sick beasties, save for a few conventions, house repairs, good coffee, and pay for upfront author expenses. 

And is that rough trying to work so much and do writing? The impolite answer is, duh. Yes. Yes, of course it is. That is the struggle for so many of us trying to create and make sure we can eat week to week. 

But what I want to tell you is that if it’s in there, no amount of life trouble except the strongest of depression or medication will ever shut the artist in you up. 

Nothing. It’s always going to be in there, lurking when you stop to breathe for a moment. 

And really, the only thing between that artistry being shared in the world or being muffled inside to the grave is putting in the work. 

Now for some, they are in a situation where they are given means to create. I’m so happy for this, because I always love when more art can be created and shared.

Most people aren’t in that position. There’s a sad part of me that always wonders what beautiful works could exist if people were given sanctuary to create. I wonder how many exhausted mothers could have created the next best seller or directed a hit movie. I wonder what we could have learned, beheld, and read if prejudice hasn’t barred minorities from sharing their works in the common market. I wonder what Generation Z would be giving us if they weren’t stuck in impossible economic war trenches. 

I also acknowledge that the ones with even more barriers, like disabilities, lack of proper healthcare, chaotic environment, caretakers, abusive relationships past or current, have it much tougher. 

Some of you are going to have the odds stacked against you, but some of you also will have an inner artist that won’t be stopped, because it’s going to shake hands with guts and work ethic and buckle down. 

I’m telling you, that’s the difference. 

It is not enough to just have the muse inside. You gotta put in the work. You gotta believe the work is worthy, even if you can acknowledge it needs polishing. You gotta show up and put the words and drawings down. You have to continue practicing your craft and improving it as often as possible. 

You have to treat it like you work two jobs, one for bills and one for craft.

And yes, it may be harder for you than others. Your situation may not be ideal. But if you care enough and are passionate for the art, you will manifest the work. 

Otherwise that will stay in your imagination, in your head, in your heart, and to your grave. That is the lot of millions. You have to decide if you care enough to carve out the time and keep at it even when it’s tough, when you’re stuck, and when new ideas are trying to pull you to a different project without finishing anything. If you don’t and can’t pull up the willpower, you need to make some changes or accept that you don’t care enough to marry craft to labor. 

Do not despair. You may not get to that place for years. It’s not too late to get your life to a point where you can write at last or you find the courage and self-worth to believe your work is good enough for the world. Keep practicing when you can until you are healthy and well-off enough to be mature in your art and can put in the work. 

But keep in mind, you are dying. Every year you put off finding the means is another year that you can’t get back. 

Get to creating, corvids. Create like compelled creatures being stalked by death, like young adventurers racing into danger to save the world, like you’re saving your characters and colors’ lives by operating on the editing and touch ups. Clapping will not save any fantasy creature here—only your dedication. 

Meanwhile, here’s a pic of Arteyu’s smug face. He’s doing well.