I've toyed with the idea of going on camera for fun and (possibly) profit. I never follow through, though.
It's not about being ready; it's about being willing to fail.
What do you do when you want to do everything?
At first people think creating things is more like discovery than construction.
Zen's influence on my work.
On art as the alleged antidote to life -- although life is no illness, is it?
"Is this something I can see myself sitting down to work on literally every day for the next year or more?" If not, why?
On pushing your envelope as a creator (and not getting all moralizing with yourself about it).
Some say "good, better, best" is an absurdity and best done away with. I agree, sort of.
And should, even if they aren't great marketers.
Creative paranoia: when you know, just know, your work is worthless in a way only others can see.
What is the good, and bad, in saying "I do what I dang well want" in any creative medium? I know there's both.
"Don't worry about someone stealing your good ideas. Worry about someone stealing your bad ones!"
The very best advice I received was not a command but a seed for discussion.
How I used to get caught up in thinking about the surfaces of the things I admired.
Why much of what we call "genius" is mostly cultivated stubbornness.
"Greatness is lived, not had."
What do you do when there's just so much to do and so many things to know? Focus. But how?
There was once a time when I felt I was a better writer when I didn't really know what I was doing.
Make something that is your answer to all the things in the world you don't want.
You miss out on less than you think.
It's hard not to be foolishly romantic about certain things, like the workspaces or utensils of great artists.
My work can only really be measured against my other work. Same with yours.
Fun game to play: Pick a person, and imagine what kind of creative advice they would give you. Then compare that to the actual advice they give you.
More from Steve on the whole vexed issue of doing what you think you want to do, not what you actually want to do.