The Fear of Wasted Time as an Artist

So you you watching this right now, you're an artist. You have a desire to do art for a living. And I mean any kind of art, animation, painting, hell, even

stuff like video editing or live action directing, I don't know. Now ask

yourself this. How do you want to achieve this? Do you want to work in a

achieve this? Do you want to work in a studio? Want to be self-made? Sell your

studio? Want to be self-made? Sell your

own art for a living? You just starting out? Or have you been at it for a while

out? Or have you been at it for a while now? I want you to ask yourself this.

now? I want you to ask yourself this.

How much time are you wasting? Because

this is something that I ask myself nearly every single day. And the idea of time just freaks me out. Now, I

graduated art school well over a year ago. And to say I've been coasting is

ago. And to say I've been coasting is kind of an understatement. In all

honesty, like everyone else I went to school with, I want to be in the animation industry, specifically as a storyboard artist. And regardless of the

storyboard artist. And regardless of the horrible state of the animation industry right now, I know I have it in me to do it. I just got to buckle down and make a

it. I just got to buckle down and make a kick-ass portfolio. But then I have a

kick-ass portfolio. But then I have a lingering thought process in my mind that sets in every single time I sit down to work.

You're running out of time.

And then I stop what I'm doing and I play video games while I sobbed to myself. This is something I've noticed a

myself. This is something I've noticed a lot of people my age, especially those pursuing creative careers, struggle with. And honestly, I think it comes

with. And honestly, I think it comes down to one thought that we haven't accomplished enough by now. A lot of that pressure probably stems from the online world we're currently living in.

We're surrounded by people our age showing off what they've done, who they've worked with, what studio they're at. It becomes way too easy to compare

at. It becomes way too easy to compare and to measure our own progress against someone else's. I catch myself doing

someone else's. I catch myself doing this all the time. I'll see someone who graduated art school the same year I did and click on their LinkedIn and see that they've already worked on multiple professional projects. They've got a

professional projects. They've got a steady position at some bigname studio and suddenly I have one of two thoughts.

Bad thought number one. I'm not good enough and I never will be. I mean, if I couldn't get that crazy internship halfway through college and then immediately get a full-time job right after graduating, which will lead to a

big director role which then will lead to a series getting picked up at the ripe age of 26, then I'm obviously not going to be good enough ever. And so,

what's the point in even trying now?

video game time. And this is obviously dumb. Yeah, shocker. Other people's

dumb. Yeah, shocker. Other people's

accomplishments, especially those who happen to be your age, are not an accurate measure of your own talent or worth. Yeah, crazy, I know.

worth. Yeah, crazy, I know.

Realistically, you might have the same or even more skill than someone who's made it, but they may have had access to very specific opportunities, timings, or connections you simply didn't. There are

a lot of variables at play and your journey isn't supposed to look like theirs.

Bad thought number two, the regret. It's

hard not to compare yourself when you hear stories about young artists who started early, like really early. By the

time they were 12, they were already leagues ahead while you were just playing video games. And now it's easy to spiral into that thought of if I had just taken this seriously sooner, maybe

I'd be where they are by now. There's

this quiet pressure that builds. You

know, the sense you're constantly behind trying to make up for lost time. It can

feel like you've missed the window, like you're too late to the party and now everyone else has connections, confidence, and a 10-year head start.

But that regret, as real as it feels, doesn't define what's still possible for you now. It's okay to mourn the time you

you now. It's okay to mourn the time you think you've lost, but don't let that stop you from starting now. I've known a few people who are around my age who have expressed that they would love to learn art, but that just would be too

much of a time commitment at this point in their lives. And I mean, I get it.

Sometimes waiting for success when you know you could have had it earlier just kind of sucks. I mean, why spend so much of your adult life trying and trying to get a shot in a really difficult industry to break into when a shot isn't

even guaranteed in the first place? And

next thing you know, it's too late and then you've already wasted so much time.

I often think to myself where my life might be if I had the skills I have now, 5 years ago, fresh out of high school.

Maybe I could have been more prepared for art school. Maybe I could have landed an internship. It's easy to fall into that whatif spiral, wondering where I could be by now. But then I look back

at the art I was making 5 years ago. And

honestly, I'm proud. I'm proud of how far I've come. And I realized that the only reason I'm at this level now is because of that version of me from 5 years ago. the one who kept going even

years ago. the one who kept going even when work felt rough or uncertain. Sure,

I don't have my dream job yet, and maybe that'll take another 3, five, or even 10 years to get there. And that used to really get to me. Honestly, it still does sometimes. But then I think about

does sometimes. But then I think about how much I've grown over the last 5 years, and that still gives me hope. It

makes me excited to see who I'll become in the next five, and that's enough to keep me going. And even beyond all that, I try to come back to the core of it. I

make art because I love making art. I

love creating characters and stories, whether they resonate with someone or not. If people see my work and enjoy it,

not. If people see my work and enjoy it, that's all that really matters. That's

always been the heart of it. And

honestly, that should be enough. All of

this to say, I don't really have much of a solution if you're feeling these. But

I do want to say that it's okay if you do think these things. I'm sure every artist who has ever lived has had similar thoughts to what I'm saying. You

know, the imposttor syndrome, the feeling like you'll never be good enough, the regret of not trying sooner.

It's called being human.

Unless you're an AI artist and you should be feeling all these