Can’t Somebody Just Tell Me What I Should Do?

Today’s post will be shorter than yesterday’s. I got a bit carried away. I spent 3-plus hours on that one. Not that I regret it, but if I’m going to write here every day from Monday to Friday, I need to keep a sustainable pace.

I got carried away yesterday, treating it like another place to answer questions about illustration. Answering questions is something I enjoy, and it’s something I am good at. But answering others’ questions is not what this blog is for. It’s one possible format, and I will definitely answer more questions here, but it cannot be my primary purpose.

The purpose of this blog is to write every day. Answering questions is writing, but it’s responsive writing, reactionary. I also need to cultivate my ability to write unprompted. Answering others’ questions is easy, because the prompt is supplied, and I have anwers. And when I write 5,000 words in response, I feel like an expert. Reflecting on what’s inside, finding questions that I am asking, or wrangling all those loose thoughts spinning around, putting them into words — that is harder.

For all I know, it may also be unnecessary. There’s always a market for expertise. Sharing things more personal can be risky.

It’s not that I want to keep a diary here. It’s just that I want to mine myself for deeper ideas, things that of course we all care about, but which are so close to me, and I can use writing to give it some shape. Again, it’s not that I want to get super personal, it’s that I hope to find deep things (emotions? ideas? thoughts? desires? fears?) and put words to them. Expressing things we all experience and know intuitively, but for which others lack words, can be one of the most helpful things in the world.

I decided this morning that I wanted to do more than answer questions here. Because I don’t want to lose sight of why I’m here: to learn how to write. To exercise writing. Not always answering. Not being an expert. Maybe even being a bit of a failure. I’m excited about today’s post because it does anything but set me up as an expert. It’s rambling and sort of lacks a cohesive, singular thought. At least it feels that way in this moment.

I don’t want to lose sight of why I’m here: to learn how to write. To exercise writing. Not always answering. Not being an expert. Maybe even being a bit of a failure.

This morning, in response to yesterday’s post, someone said, “Great post. Which should I learn first: Illustrator or Photoshop?” I had two conflicting initial inner reactions. My first was, “Great. Now my blog has become another place to answer the same old questions.” My second was the strong urge to answer the question (UPDATE: to the person who asked, I do have an answer for you). I guess I’m getting protective of this blog. I want it to be different from my YouTube channel, where my sole intention is to answer questions, to be an expert.

I deeply value being asked questions, because it is evidence that others value my opinions and see me as an expert. But something in me today did not respond well to the Illustrator vs. Photoshop question, particularly as a response to yesterday’s post. It made me feel misunderstood—or that my intention and role here on this blog was misunderstood. Suddenly, instead of writing in service of my own thoughts, here I am again, dishing out free advice to everyone who asks. (Work with me here, I am analyzing my inner dialogue, not validating my resentfulness).

I don’t know. There’s something here to work with. This strong reaction to an earnest question: what does it say about me? What do I want? Isn’t it good to answer questions, even the simple ones? Of course it is, and of course I want to help. But it makes me think about why I want to write and what sort of book it will be. My vision is to write a “why-to” or a “yes you can” type book, not a “how-to”. To write a companion, almost a devotional, that can put into words things you already know but need help seeing more clearly. Yes, I want to write a guide, but not necessarily a guide that instructs you on the exact steps to take. Everyone wants to be given a map. Everyone wants to be given the answers in the back of the book. Nobody wants to find their own path, craft their own story. People don’t see the value of their own journey.

Nobody wants to tell you what to do. Nobody wants to be responsible for your decisions … you’d hate it if they did.

Of course, we all want to avoid mistakes and get to where we want to be going faster. We all want an expert to give us the answers. We all want a mentor who will tell us who and how to be. To this very day, I want this for myself. The desire goes unfulfilled. When I call out with, “Can’t somebody just tell me what I should do?”, there’s a quiet voice that calls back, “No.”

Then it leaves me in awkward silence for a moment.

Then it follows up, “No. There is nobody who will tell you what you should do. Nobody wants to tell you what to do. Nobody wants to be responsible for your decisions that are yours to make. And besides, you’d hate it if they did.”

People: I love answering your questions. I love shining a light in the dark. My passion — and at least half of my literal job—is “giving people the leg-up I wish I had when starting out” (as I often say).

But the greatest service I can give (maybe?) is to give shape to the shapeless enemies we don’t even know we’re fighting. “If you can name it, you can tame it,” I once read somewhere. “Know thy enemy and know yourself; in a hundred battles, you will never be defeated.” said Sun Tzu.

In his book The War of Art, Steven Pressfield gave shape to one of creativity’s greatest enemies by calling it The Resistance. Maybe this is something I can do, directly or indirectly in my book. It may not be as singular, as focused, as Pressfield’s revered book. But it can be singularly focused on a group of people I care deeply about: illustrators.

“But really”, you ask, “what should I learn first—Photoshop or Illustrator? Can’t you tell me what to do?”

No.

[Awkward silence]