Lately I've been wanting to write something spectacular—the kind of book that blows people away, leaves them in shock not only of how good the story is, but the writing as well. Yes, I want to birth a masterpiece, basically.
And of course because this is the way I'm feeling, absolutely none of my writing can possible live up to it. Some of my ideas might have potential, but then I realize I just don't have the skill yet to write them the way I want. I've grown a lot as a writer, but not enough.
Please don't think I'm depressed. I guess I've just been thinking a lot about the path of an artist in general. It's always this battle—the battle to improve and create that image in your head on paper.
I feel like I'm in yet another growing phase, where I just have to push out a lot of crap in order to learn. Both in writing and drawing. I went through this a few years ago with writing. Thousands of crappy words, just so I could figure out which ones were good. I've gone through this several times as an artist as well—lots of horrible sketches to figure out the right place to put the lines and shadows and light.
Sadly, having gone through it before doesn't make it any easier this time. It's always frustrating to feel like you've gone backwards, to feel like you're a greenie all over again.
But the only way to get through it is to push forward. I know, I'm a broken record, but I'm mostly reminding myself. My natural impulse is to give up, to accept that I'll be at this level forever and that's okay. I've learned, though, that when you push forward you really do get better.
I have thousands of horrible drawings and hundreds of thousands of awful words to prove it.
So maybe someday I will write that masterpiece, but it sure as heck won't be anytime soon. And though that sometimes makes me restless, I'm also okay with it.