“The secret of success of everyone who has ever been successful—lies in the fact that they formed the habit of doing things that failures don’t like to do…We’ve got to realize right from the start that success is something which is achieved by the minority of people, and is therefore unnatural and not to be achieved by following our natural likes and dislikes nor by being guided by our natural preferences and prejudices…You’ve probably wondered, ‘Why it is that those who are the best at what they do seem to like to do the things that you don’t like to do?’…They don’t! … ‘Then why do they do them?’ Because by doing the things they don’t like to do, they can accomplish the things they want to accomplish.” -excerpt from a speech given by Albert Gray
“Greatness comes not from believing you’re great, but on the contrary, from an obsession on how to be better.” -Mark Manson
“Artists don’t get down to work until the pain of working is exceeded by the pain of not working.” -David Bayles, book Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking
Sonya: “Well. Uncle! Now. What shall we do?”
Vanya: “Work.”
Sonya: “Yes!” -Excerpt from the play Uncle Vanya, by Anton Chekov
Working on your mindset doesn’t get you to the point where you no longer feel negative thoughts. No matter how much success you’ve achieved, those negative thoughts and doubts never go away. Especially if you’re in pursuit of excellence.
Doing self work just shortens the gap between a negative thought (noticing it without judgment) and getting back to work.
Here’s a terrific excerpt from David Bayles’ book Art & Fear…
The desire to make art begins early. Among the very young this is encouraged (or at least indulged as harmless) but the push toward a ‘serious’ education soon exacts a heavy toll on dreams and fantasies….Yet for some the desire persists, and sooner or later must be addressed. And with good reason: your desire to make art — beautiful or meaningful or emotive art — is integral to your sense of who you are. Life and Art, once entwined, can quickly become inseparable; at age ninety Frank Lloyd Wright was still designing, Imogen Cunningham still photographing, Stravinsky still composing, Picasso still painting.
But if making art gives substance to your sense of self, the corresponding fear is that you’re not up to the task — that you can’t do it, or can’t do it well, or can’t do it again; or that you’re not a real artist, or not a good artist, or have no talent, or have nothing to say. The line between the artist and his/her work is a fine one at best, and for the artist it feels (quite naturally) like there is no such line. Making art can feel dangerous and revealing. Making art is dangerous and revealing. Making art precipitates self-doubt, stirring deep waters that lay between what you know you should be, and what you fear you might be. For many people, that alone is enough to prevent their ever getting started at all — and for those who do, trouble isn’t long in coming. Doubts, in fact, soon rise in swarms:
“I am not an artist — I am a phony. I have nothing worth saying. I’m not sure what I’m doing. Other people are better than I am. I’m only a [student/physicist/mother/whatever]. I’ve never had a real exhibit. No one understands my work. No one likes my work. I’m no good.”
Yet viewed objectively, these fears obviously have less to do with art than they do with the artist. And even less to do with the individual artworks. After all, in making art you bring your highest skills to bear upon the materials and ideas you most care about. Art is a high calling — fears are coincidental. Coincidental, sneaky and disruptive, we might add, disguising themselves variously as laziness, resistance to deadlines, irritation with materials or surroundings, distraction over the achievements of others — indeed anything that keeps you from giving your work your best shot. What separates artists from ex-artists is that those who challenge their fears, continue; those who don’t, quit. Each step in the artmaking process puts that issue to the test.