I have found that art is a lot like writing fiction. You start out with an idea. It doesn’t matter if it’s a good idea or a scribble on a page, it’s an idea. Then, right away, you decide if you like it or not. If not, you probably forget about it forever. If it’s a really good idea you probably forget about it forever. Unless you wrote it down. Or doodled enough of it to remember.
The idea works on you a while, and it tries to convince you of its merits. After a while you give in and try exploring it a little.
Then you start to see that the idea really actually has potential. You spend some time on it, you flesh it out, you give it a world to take place in, add some character to it. You make it more than the original idea was.
Then the real idea hits you. Then you turn it into something really good. You give it the spark that only you could give it, and you make it into something special, something unique. After all of that, you stand back and look at it for a long time, proud of yourself, embarrassed of yourself, wondering if what you’ve done is worthwhile.
Then you see a way to make it better.
While you go through that cycle a few times, another idea is getting angry that you haven’t been paying attention to its merits. It starts screaming your name, vying for your attentions. It NEEDS you.
And you need it.
Sooner or later, whether you think it’s ready or not, you have to let the old one go out into the world.
And move on to the next….
and the next…
There is always another idea out there.
One’s calling you now…