Consume Art. Don’t let Art consume you.
Creator: Giotto di Bondone c. 1267 | Credit: Wikimedia Commons
Run.
Run through this maze. Chase that flickering light dancing on the walls.
Run faster.
It’s within reach. Something tells you it is the key to surviving a tale as old as modern mankind. A way out.
But as you inch closer to this glow, pushing yourself beyond known limitations, the light fights back.
It is now faster, more agile, almost sentient.
Run.
Run faster.
There, you break, collapsing on the cold stone, in this maze that seems to forever expand with the light’s coverage.
There it is. Your analogy to a writer’s struggle in this digital age: produce more, faster, better.
Let me break it to you: you can’t.
Unless you have a team of dedicated assistants and ghostwriters working around the clock, and a few million stashed in a brokerage account, or your book covers are subtle variants of a shirtless dude in dimmed lighting (and AI writes it all for you), you can’t put out content at that rate.
Creative fields require sacrifices, yes. But to a certain extent.
At some point, I was (and you will be if you haven’t already) willing to commit to any sacrifice to find success in publishing. I flirted with that path: sleepless nights, no proper bonding with my kids, studying around the clock, polishing my brand, dumping hundreds of dollars into cover design and editing…
And one day, I broke. I was no longer able to chase that light. Burnt out, it all turned into a numbing darkness, hope lost as I didn’t allow myself to develop as an artist and connect with a more invested readership.
Cry spells and anger outbursts were common. Insomnia and isolation. Financial distress.
You name it. I was putting out content at an insane pace, but was this content received and engaged with?
Social media writing gurus and low-quality opportunistic authors (AI dope fiends and get-rich-quick schemes) have also been instrumental in pushing for this false narrative, adding to the warped expectations we set for ourselves.
“Write your book in 90 days!”
“Become an Amazon bestseller!”
“Hear me out. Journals.”
“A new breakthrough. AI.”
A bunch of bullshit aligning with the crooks’ agenda and their fucking courses.
Great art takes time. It takes love and careful planning.
A fulfilling life meets the same requirements, defined by similar variables.
You must achieve a balance between productivity and self-care. Between momentum and stability.
Your readership only cares about your identity and your brand, not your raw output.
Unless you churn out hood romance and smut where your target is a bit more voracious and maybe more forgiving…
…Slow down. Reevaluate the way you approach this passion of ours.
Allow yourself downtime, sharing your days between branding, the craft, and your personal needs.
Evade the turbulent convection currents and rise above cloud level, while others set on a crash course, seeking the path of least resistance.
