Image by Becky Wetherington

A day in a creative life
She stares at the half-finished piece on the table in front of her. The twisted bulb, too close to her head, hums and crackles, bathing her tiny studio in a flood of alien light.

The knot between her shoulder blades is hot. She imagines herself bursting into flames, nothing left for the coroner to find but a small, unrecognizable pile of ash.

And that bloody damned thing would still be sitting there, a final, glaring testament to an utterly failed artistic career.

She winces as she straightens up on her stool, rubbing her neck. A headache lurks at the base of her skull.

And right on cue, there’s that hollow, spinning place in the pit of her stomach, the familiar, growing panic she feels every time she tries to do something ambitious.

She wants to run, change her name, go to dental school and pretend she never aspired to anything other than the endless joy of being utterly average.

Beats the hell out of being second rate.

She paces the length of her small table, eyeing the piece with disgust.

No one will ever want this. Why can’t I get this right? Why can’t I get anything right?

She tries not to think about what she’s really thinking.

Oh, well, mediocre and meta all at once. Aren’t we clever?

About what she really wants.

Why can’t I be as good as—

She stops, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands.

I don’t want to do this again.

I don’t want to ever do this again.

She could quit. Just chuck it all.

No relief there. Not really. She’s done it before. That kind of comfort is false.

Wherever you go, there you are.

She stands over her work.

It’s better, isn’t it? From when I started. Isn’t it?

The answer comes creeping quietly, from somewhere still and deep, slowing her churning stomach as it rises.

Yes.

She frowns. She’s done any number of off-the-self-help-shelf pep talks, and none worked. Could it be as simple as just deciding to stop beating herself up?

The drama queen has abdicated. Huzzah, the peasants are revolting.

She snorts.

It doesn’t matter.

What matters is how this moment feels, right here, right now. The panic has faded.

It’s better.

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Where you are is the perfect place to start
There are a myriad of things that can stop you in your tracks. Comparing yourself to someone you see as wildly successful, telling yourself you can’t “do marketing,” that you aren’t smart enough to master the simplest technology.

You can tell yourself other things. Better things.

Truer things.

Things that don’t make you feel ill.

Business skills are learned, not bestowed
Most of this business we call creativity is about learning, whether it’s artistic technique, a new medium, or marketing.

We all start somewhere, learn in different ways and in our own time.

There’s no shame in that.

“I want this to be better” isn’t a reason to stop. It’s a reason to push forward.

That desire won’t derail you, it’s the baggage you bring along for the ride.

Ditch the baggage. Do your work.

About the author: Stacey Cornelius is a writer and artist who believes successful creative ventures run far deeper than snazzy sales pitches. She helps empower artists, designers, writers and craftspeople to do their best work and show it to the world. Sign up for her free, jargon-busting foundation marketing email class right here. For high-speed inspiration, follow Stacey on Twitter.

Three people I know have said nearly the same thing over the past few days—Why can’t I get this right?

One person was frustrated at not being able to master a new skill quickly. One was trying to wrestle designs into lower price points. One was overthinking her marketing message.

Their intentions were honourable, but they weren’t getting the results they wanted, and for good reason. Trying too hard interrupts your flow. It hangs up your thinking and twists you into a ball of anxiety.

Learning takes time
It’s beyond frustrating when you try to master something that looks like it should be easy. When your initial efforts are met with unabashed defiance, you wonder what could possibly be wrong with you, particularly when other people seem to be doing the very same thing with little or no effort.

But they had to learn it, too. If you want to get good at something, you have to work at it. You have to practice. And you are required to make mistakes.

(You could say mistakes are a natural part of the process, but if mistakes are a prerequisite, your pride will take less of a beating and you’ll be less likely to quit.)

Give quality work the respect it deserves
Trying to dumb down good design is as bad as trying to copy it. You end up with a pale imitation of the original. The balance is off, the shapes are wrong, and there’s an unmistakable sense that something’s missing. It’s like the cheap knock-off gowns that appear every year after the Academy Awards. Yes, you can have the fabulous dress that Penelope Cruz wore! Except the cheap version usually ends up looking like an okay-ish prom gown.

You’d be better off going to the local vintage clothing store. At least you get a dress that still has its original character.

You could drop the price on an original piece, but that sends its own unfortunate message. Quality buyers get suspicious when they see a price that’s too low. What’s wrong with it? Substandard materials? Poor production?

The price has to be in proper alignment with the quality of the piece and the person who makes it.

That advice is hard to take. You need to earn a living. But pricing creative work is like dating—the scent of desperation is only attractive to vampires.

Selling creative work is also like dating—if you don’t see good prospects, you’re in the wrong place. Move on.

Use your head, but trust your instincts
When you know who your ideal customer is, you have a strong sense of how they think—what delights them, what bugs them, and what they really, really want. All the marketing books in the world can’t replace that kind of understanding.

What they really, really want is a function of emotion. They feel good when they buy directly from you. It’s cool—you’re cool. Your work makes them feel sophisticated. It makes them feel special. There are theories to explain the emotion and techniques to help you enhance that feeling, but sometimes the complicated logistics get in the way. Sometimes it’s best to just be human—to exercise empathy and meet your customer where they are, instead of trying to pull them to you.

So let’s take those three experiences and combine them to craft a basic marketing plan.

Marketing 101 revisited—the creative version

• Make excellent work. (Practice. Learn new things. Practice some more.)
• Don’t sell yourself short—price your work properly.
• Sell in the right places.
• Sell to the right people.
• Don’t overthink it. People are emotional creatures. Let your creativity and empathy help guide you.

Wanting to get it right drives you to do better, but it doesn’t matter whether you’re trying to learn something or get your message out—pushing too hard drives you crazy.

You might think marketing is just another skill, like learning to roller skate, but that’s not true. Marketing is a multi-faceted activity. So much of you is wrapped up in your work, you can’t separate yourself from your marketing. And you shouldn’t, because you is what helps sell your work. Marketing isn’t just a matter of following a recipe. It’s an organic process. If you approach it that way, it feels more natural, and more like a part of your creative process.

Just remember: don’t try too hard.

Over to you: What happens when you try too hard? More importantly, what happens when you step back, relax, and let things unfold?