If you stick with this artistic life long enough (and by that I mean years, not months) you will come to recognize that the act of making stuff up to share with the world is frequently cluttered with dashed hopes, disappointment (in others sure, but also in oneself) and days and days when it feels as though nobody, not one living breathing soul other than yourself, really gives a damn or is even aware of what it is you’re up to. Or that you even exist.

When you are making something for the world and the world doesn’t appear to care, that can feel like one hell of a lonely bed you’ve made for yourself.

But here’s the thing. The loneliness and purposelessness are transitory. They can arrive and pull you down into the darkest despair quite unexpectedly. Often with little or no warning. Thankfully, they can just as easily pick up and fly off with the next slight breeze. So stick to your guns. In this regard, time is your greatest friend. Because the act of continuing, of not giving up, of pursuing when you don’t really even know what it is you’re chasing, that is rare indeed. Very few of us have the nerve to stick it out through the hopeless spells. If you do, you’ll come out the other end and you’ll open your eyes and look around and see that you’re in mighty fine company. You’re surrounded by serious and fun and brilliant creative souls who actually do make the world more vivid.

The greatest comfort you can carry on your journey will not come in the form of fancy awards, enormous paychecks or adoring fans.

No. When push comes to shove your journey as a generative artist begins and ends with your vision, with the WHY that percolates just beneath the surface of every line of dialogue or bit of physical description you write. Why you became a writer in the first place is the safe haven you’ll return to again and again as you slog your way from one imperfect project to the next. Knowing why you showed up in the first place will be your greatest comfort as well as your reliable fuel. Try not to lose sight of it.

Because, you see, the WHY of what you do will always leave its fingerprints all over the HOW of your artistry. And you don’t want to wake up one day to find you’ve been chasing somebody else’s artistic North Star for the better part of your adult life. That can feel like hell. But, even if you should find yourself there, in that shameful, stale, regretful, sorry and frightening spot, know this:

The next time you feel completely lost, just close your eyes and recall that first thing you wanted desperately to bring to life. And there in an instant you will reconnect with your artistic soul. And nothing will get in your way.

With purpose and passion the world is limitless.

What the audience sees is entirely up to you.

The banner image on this page is intentional. It may look like a fairly primitive wooden table on a weed-laden driveway beside a parked truck and an open garage. And it is all those things. And so much more.

What if I told you that table was built for me by one of my best friends I’d known since we were 14 years old. And that she built it out of recycled wood from her deck after it was ripped apart by Hurricane Sandy. And what if I went further to let you know that she built the table a couple years before she finally lost her battle with ovarian cancer and she was determined not to die without first finishing it. And what if I went further to point you to the inscription on the top which reads “Life is a banquet made richer by the sharing.” And then, I wonder. Should I also tell you that the table now sits outside exposed to the elements, fading a bit more each season, a kind of living embodiment of my grief? No. Maybe that, I’d better keep to myself.

Your life as an artist is yours and yours alone to define. I am here to help you with the HOW of things. The WHY is yours alone to find within you.

And here’s some more wisdom for you, courtesy of the one and only Gary Garrison, a great artist, inspiration and dear friend of mine who never stops seeking to go deeper, wider and richer in his craft and in his artistic purpose.