feeling like i'm fundamentally incompatible with my chosen career
!This is gonna be a long one.
I recently ran a Pinterest ad for my commissions page. I was hesitant at first. I mainly worried about how it would come across, how it would impact my (nonexistent) reputation. It felt hypocritical, since I hate ads and make an effort to avoid them. But if I don't advertise myself, how else am I going to get my name out there? In the end, I decided to run it, as a test.
It was uncomfortably easy to set up. All I had to do was to decide how much money to put in and link the ad to my commissions page. Then, I gave them my card and voila!
It's been 3 days now. The ad has accrued about 16k impressions, which is a shockingly high number until i realise it just meant the number of times it has appeared in someone's feed. It has 46 clicks, but my inbox is still as empty as ever.
Pinterest tells me that my pin is underperforming and I should plug in more money.
A sick feeling has been forming in my stomach.
What am I doing wrong?
Becoming a professional illustrator is so much more than being able to draw. In fact, drawing seems to be a relatively small part of the profession. At least from where I'm at.
Ever since I ran that pinterest ad, I've been obsessed with analytics. Fun fact, in a pinterest business account, your 'homepage' is not your pin boards or feed, it's your analytics. I've also been checking my tumblr notes, google analytics for my portfolio (thinking of switching to Fathom), and bearblog analytics.
I feel compelled to check it every hour or so, refreshing the page and hoping that something's changed, as if every numerical increment would bring me closer to becoming a real illustrator. It's bad, I know.
Just to be clear, I'm not going to complain about not getting the attention I deserve. There is a finite amount of people on this earth and there's never enough love to go around.
I'm also not begging for pity.
Rather, I wonder how I got to this point. How did my dream of earning a living through illustration lead to me spending time watching numbers go up?
Conventional advice on self-promotion says to put your work on social media, that social media is a necessary evil. I have an instagram account, but I have no motivation to post there. I really don't like social media! I used to be addicted to twitter, but one mental breakdown later, I managed to quit. I don't want to fall back in.
Another advice is to network. I personally find it really difficult to interact with people beyond surface level. I'm not shy (I think). I work front-of-house at a popular salad bar. I talk to customers all the time. But there, I'm basically an NPC. I have a set script. I know I'm supposed to smile and have a friendly inflection. I've memorised the names of our regulars. Both parties know exactly what the other wants, and interactions last for 2 minutes maximum.
When networking, I'm no longer Employee #4, I'm wenxuan the illustrator. I'm alone. The spotlight's on me and I don't have a script. I don't know what they want to hear. An illustrator's work should speak for them, but I can't exactly shove my portfolio in other people's faces. I can't just "be myself" either. I like myself, but over the years, I've noticed that I bore and repel people easily. There's something about me that's kinda off-putting, and I can never quite put my finger on it.
I haven't had a friend since I was 12. On a personal level, it feels freeing. I'm not obligated to another person. I don't have to do unpaid performances. But now that I'm looking for work, I'm starting to feel the effects of not having a support system. I can't get the help and guidance I need unless I shell out huge amounts of money (which I don't have).
I know the power of word of mouth, and yet I have no motivation to make friends. I don't know what I would contribute to the friendship. How would I benefit other people? Time is money. How much am I worth?
Any time I spend gambling on potential friendship and networks is time that I could spend honing my craft. But if I don't make connections, I won't get work. And no work means no money. No money means giving up and getting a 9 to 5. A 9 to 5 means no energy to hone my craft. ...Is this a catch 22?
In the end, I'm the problem. My incapability to connect with other people meaningfully is hindering me from becoming a real illustrator.
You know, the reason I want to be an illustrator is because I want to spend most of my days immersed in drawing. Drawing is a way for me to belong in this world. My motivation to put pen to paper is purely self-serving. A life where I don't have the time or energy to draw is a life not worth living.
What am I supposed to do if my reasons for becoming an illustrator is in conflict with parts of the job description?
Do I give up?
I cant. I'm scared of what I'll do myself.
Well, not every question has an immediate answer. Why don't I focus on some positives for now?
A few weeks ago, I got my first commission (by some miracle). The client was lovely and the experience confirmed that, as impossible as it seems, I'm on the right path.
My illustrations are getting better and better. Ever since I started scheduling posts on tumblr, it's been more pleasant to draw without the pressure of a weekly post.
I've been trying to sort out my professional and personal digital presence. I'll try to keep the two separate. I've just turned off analytics for this bearblog (thank you Herman for providing the option!). This is going into the "personal" side of my digital presence.
Personal websites and the "tiny internet" has been fascinating me recently. Now that my bearblog is analytics-free, it feels so cozy. I love how most of the people here are also trying to get away from social media! I've been really enjoying going through other people's blogs and adding them to my rss feed.
I think I'm gonna remove the "professional" elements from my personal website (e.g. commission info etc.) except for maybe one link to my portfolio.
There's this quote from Joe Moran's "If You Should Fail" that I come back to often:
"Whenever I feel most like a failure, I try to remember this. My life has been like a painting gone wrong. I attempt to fix it by tweaking and tinkering at the edges ad nauseum, until I decide that the whole thing is misconceived and I need to paint over it and start from scratch. Now the canvas is showing its age. The paint has begun to crack, flake and discolour and assume a coating of grime and dust.
The painting that is my life will never be finished, just as I will never feel like an adult. But it remains, in the sense that every life is, a work of art. Not an immaculate masterpiece, should such a thing exist. Not a work that will trouble the great auction houses or hang in the Louvre or the Rijksmuseum. Just something I extemporized in the shambolic course of living it, and that only I could have made with my own hands - out of the crooked timber of humanity. I think I will carry on working on it."
I'll find some way to make this work. I'm an artist. Every piece I'm proud of always involved a healthy amount of mental turmoil and humbling in the creation process.
Perhaps I should treat this journey the same way?