Okay, I admit it. I can’t draw. (So, I envy every single one of you, albeit in the nicest possible way.) You have a gift, subsequently extended by “a helluva lot of hard work.”
What I :banghead: to do, and fail to do … you guys and gals just … :arteest: do!
A very interesting thing happened to me recently, though. I took on a collaborator. “Couldn’t pay him, but couldn’t finish.” Needed help. Needed things that I had been trying to do by myself, but which I could only do, well, “half-assed.” And I guess I was “too damn proud to admit it.” Or maybe, a little-bit scared that, if I could not do everything, there was no value in anything I was setting-out to do (within this frame-of-endeavor, that is).
Maybe I was just being a horses-ass who didn’t want to have to share the copyright.
It was an epiphany. There are things that I have become “very good at.” Things that I guess I “have a knack for,” even though I can’t draw a storyboard to save my pet parakeet. And even though I have some sort of self-tutored “knack” for these things, I have only managed to scramble up to the point where I’m confronted with seeing just how much I don’t know.
The second epiphany, I guess, is to realize that perhaps everyone in any field of professional endeavor confronts this. You’re not in this alone. You don’t have to be. Even if you can be “a one-person band,” you could be both hurting yourself and frustrating yourself. Sure, drive yourself forward relentlessly in pursuit of this unattainable goddess named “perfection.” But, think of yourself as part of a greater whole. Create, or become part of, a team. (You will never reach the goddess. No one does. But she will smile at you, now and then.)
It works. Better. Much.