Repeat after me, "My art does not suck."
The only way to keep from feeling frustrated past the point of self control is to submit to Motherhood.
Over the next weeks, I’m not going to accomplish what I want to, or even most of what I need to. That little death to self is a good thing. Somebody keep reminding me!
So stop worrying about the bills (when has that ever been what drove your art?) and get back to work (Unless worrying is what forces the art to happen. Then…carry on).
Your muse sucks sometimes. She treats you bad. Set boundaries for the relationship. Too much time with frigid non-corporeal women is toxic.
My eleven year old daughter, who, not ten minutes ago, was riding a wave of euphoria while singing her new song, is now angry and in tears because that same song “is actually trash.” I’ve been writing (as a career) for twenty one years now, and I still do the same thing.
