A reflection on fear.
Read the piece at Desk Lunch. Excerpt below.
¶ About halfway through the year, I began struggling with wanting to draw. That is, I didn’t want to. It was a chilly, foreign feeling: I had never struggled the same way with design. (I had hated design in the past, sure, but never had I fully lost the desire to try at it. Hatred has a certain workability; disinterest is cold and dead.) At that point I was not failing, not technically, not publicly, but I was almost always disappointed. Disappointment may sound like a small thing next to failure, but it is debilitating and self-pitying and gross. It lives in the heart.