waiting for inspiration to strike is my downfall
on the creative process
For the past thirteen days I’ve been thinking about writing. My notes app continues to pile on with short passages and bullet points all titled “SUBSTACK IDEA” hastily written out on the bus, still in the middle of my room, in the midst of class. Yet, when I lay everything out on a document, everything that I’ve needed to say has already been said by someone else, or I couldn’t possibly put it to words, or I just. don’t. feel like it.
I’ve ruminated on writing this for months, how very ironic, you’ll come to see. It started out inspired by what has become a quarterly rewatch of CJ the X’s 7 Deadly Art Sins, only to be scrapped and restarted and rescrapped because of my hatred for anything I produce that isn’t deemed “profound” enough.
One of the problems I’ve had the most with Substack – or I suppose not with Substack itself, rather what has become my attitude towards it – is the fact that I have so many ideas! I have so many things I find important enough to start to pen, but not enough to even try to finish. I find myself asking so frequently “What am I saying?” I’ve had to revert back to the basics with figuring out my audience and purpose. Purpose grows harder each time.
The reason why first drafts are so hated is because of how unclear you realize your point is in the midst of trying to find it. I tout to everyone that “a shitty first draft is better than nothing because at least you have something to work with!” and still kill myself over a half start.
It’s weird to be vulnerable and admit that a part of me simultaneously wants to be recognized for some greatness without having the courage to do something. To want to be succinctly and effectively understood for who I am whilst only ever manic pixie dream girl implying my way to being thought of as “cool” or “academic” [1]
It’s weird to know, and so greatly believe that the only way to improve is to share, yet still only feel shame for not meeting an entirely arbitrary standard that I’ve created by obsessive comparison.
![[Image ID by @lilririah on Twitter “A graph where vertical measure is "awesomeness", & the horizontal measure is "time". There is a solid line that represents "time" that curving somewhat upwards, & a dotted line that represents "skill" following right under it between the solid "taste" line & the dotted "skill" like, it says "The Gap" /End ID]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!QTbI!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9032ba28-d446-46d7-9987-a53563c337c6_1080x1080.png "[Image ID by @lilririah on Twitter “A graph where vertical measure is \"awesomeness\", & the horizontal measure is \"time\". There is a solid line that represents \"time\" that curving somewhat upwards, & a dotted line that represents \"skill\" following right under it between the solid \"taste\" line & the dotted \"skill\" like, it says \"The Gap\" /End ID]")
This whole “tortured artist” vibe is not working out for me.
![[Image ID: Archived Instagram close friends story dated January 17 at 23:00 reading “pov: ur watching me spend too long thinking about the action of artists restricting putting themselves and their artwork out into the world for the fear of not being good enough. (tbh while this is broad it’s mainly from a written work perspective sooo oops ig) because while striving to be a better version of yourself is admirable, going to such extremes and trying to get yourself to reach an unreachable level of perfection is inherently sisyphean. by definition, it is an over exhausting task for no real goal. and also, by not publicly expressing your art form you’re stunting yourself ANYWAY. you’ll never be perfect. so, you might as well get over your fears lest they continue to fester and crawl out of the whole that you’ve dug forcing yourself away. CONTINUING ON THAT, literally just do whatever !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I HAVE MORE POINTS SO LITERALLY NO ONE TALK TO ME FOR THE NEXT FOUR HOURS i will unapologetically say that i literally don’t know where this was going but i think you can tell i cry because of poetry. i want 2 thank rayne fisher-quann and my bird 4 everything ever bye now” /End ID]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!T9Hw!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fec493515-73c7-49f7-9ed0-ed49d25244f0_1080x1465.jpeg "[Image ID: Archived Instagram close friends story dated January 17 at 23:00 reading “pov: ur watching me spend too long thinking about the action of artists restricting putting themselves and their artwork out into the world for the fear of not being good enough. (tbh while this is broad it’s mainly from a written work perspective sooo oops ig) because while striving to be a better version of yourself is admirable, going to such extremes and trying to get yourself to reach an unreachable level of perfection is inherently sisyphean. by definition, it is an over exhausting task for no real goal. and also, by not publicly expressing your art form you’re stunting yourself ANYWAY. you’ll never be perfect. so, you might as well get over your fears lest they continue to fester and crawl out of the whole that you’ve dug forcing yourself away. CONTINUING ON THAT, literally just do whatever !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I HAVE MORE POINTS SO LITERALLY NO ONE TALK TO ME FOR THE NEXT FOUR HOURS i will unapologetically say that i literally don’t know where this was going but i think you can tell i cry because of poetry. i want 2 thank rayne fisher-quann and my bird 4 everything ever bye now” /End ID]")
[1] When I was 12/13 (I don’t remember the exact age for fear of having to dig through my diaries and find the entries where I stated this), I embarrassingly lived for the line in Hikikomori by Crywank that goes “I wanna be academic, confident, and romantic / But I just feel weird and overdramatic”
![[Image ID: private Spotify playlist by laïa dearest titled “laïapilled” with the description “must listen if u want to understand me ever / the essentials” and the playlist cover as an image of Crywank’s album cover “James Is Going To Die Soon” in the top left, Los Campesinos!’s album cover “We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed” in the top right, Ethel Cain’s album “Preacher’s Daughter” in the bottom left, and Leith Ross’ single cover for “We’ll Never Have Sex” in the bottom right /End ID]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!IeVj!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffc8c93ef-4ec8-459c-ac9b-5780868ed757_1080x968.png "[Image ID: private Spotify playlist by laïa dearest titled “laïapilled” with the description “must listen if u want to understand me ever / the essentials” and the playlist cover as an image of Crywank’s album cover “James Is Going To Die Soon” in the top left, Los Campesinos!’s album cover “We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed” in the top right, Ethel Cain’s album “Preacher’s Daughter” in the bottom left, and Leith Ross’ single cover for “We’ll Never Have Sex” in the bottom right /End ID]")
Further Reading / Viewing:
inspiration, mya moon via moongirl.substack.com
7 Deadly Art Sins, cj the x via youtube.com/@cjthex
It’s weird to be vulnerable and admit that a part of me simultaneously wants to be recognized for some greatness without having the courage to do something. To want to be succinctly and effectively understood for who I am whilst only ever manic pixie dream girl implying my way to being thought of as “cool” or “academic”
this is such an astute reflection of the self awareness that comes with signaling your identity via taste and having to bridge the gap between that implied identity and the reality of DOING something… i feel as though i’ve fallen into a trap of being understood the way i want to be, but not having the will to actually fulfill that identity. thank you for sharing <33
no bc i love and live for your writing. i was just squealing when i saw that i was in your further viewing again !! i missed your writing when you were gone <3