Fear of failure is the enemy of art?

Huh. And here I thought it was the dayjob, kids and husband . . .

*g*

Velociraptors! In F-16s!

THE HEALING POWER OF MANLOVE!

*ducks*

I can make art without flinching. I can freehand complex celtic knots, I can riff on a chord progression, I can sing like nobody's business. But the thing I'm best at? I can't even look in the face. My eyes slide right off it. My brain, or my subconscious I suppose, refuses to sit and write.

It's like trying to reason with a two year old. Maddening.

I know I can write good. ("rite gud" she says in her head) I've done it before, and I wasn't the only one who thought it was good; other people, even professional people, thought it was good. The ideas are there, and the words are there, but sitting down and nailing them to the paper makes them bleed and cry and die, and then I have a document with a bunch of horrible badly-pinned still-twitching words stuck all over it, and it's so far from "proofreading" I might as well print it out and toss it in a fire. I want it to come out beautiful, like the books I read that make me cry and dream, like my dreams and visions, and I can't. Part is lack of practice, and the only solution to that is just keep writing. But underlining that is the fear... every practice session churns out pages of crap, so why am I writing again? I want it to come out clear and pure, and if it comes out muddy, awkward, ugly and sticky... it's like something that's just been born, all bloody and slimy, and do I really want to go to the effort of cleaning it up, doing all that work to raise it, on the chance that it might grow up to be something beautiful?

..... bah.

Yah? Heh... that's somewhat heartening. Thank you.

I have a new motto. "Half way between Asperger's and Alzheimer's, and you think I'm scared of art????"

Maybe you were just supposed to Carry This Holy Message Unto Your Flock, That They May Realise It Is Not Just Them?

O Prophet, I hear thy Word.

Actually, I think Fear Of Failure might just be the Enemy, period.

It used to think you were scared of math, obviously. Now that you are facing al-jabr head-on, it's casting about to figure out what to put under your bed and in your closet. (Something under the bed is drooling!) *grin* Maybe it wants you to write chick lit--or a romantic comedy? And WHY NOT? A whole new readership. . . .

I though eny fule no it was the pram in the hall.

It's almost 8:30 there, and you're not cowering under the bed in terror yet?

Dammit, you have a duty to the world to be haunted by fear so you can be managed and controlled. If you can manage to crank the effects up to the "paralytic" level, so much the better, because it makes managing you so much easier.

And Tivo.

And the Internet in general.

And cake.

And playing with the cat.

And HALO.

Um I don't read all those blogs apparently. Blissfully unaware.

But it makes a certain sense to me. Art only happens when the artist is so self-directed and obsessed that they can't help but make their art. If they have a choice in the matter they usually don't because making Art is hard.

If you care whether you fail, you probably will find something easier to do, because nearly everything is easier than making Art. Of course you do care if you fail, but in the act of creation you need to be fearless. And you may need to do every possible wrong thing before you find the right thing.

Unfortunately, there are lot of people out there that make bad art -- churn out horrible novel after novel, paint crapulent painting after painting. They've got the fearlessness, the immunity to criticism, the self-discipline. They just don't have the talent.