Step 1: Throw Yourself Against a Brick Wall

Some things just go together:

• Peanut butter and jelly
• The internet and porn
• Creativity and crippling anxiety

Ah, yes. That pesky churning in your stomach that gnaws at most of the world's creative-minded population. There's something inherently inane about artists pursuing careers in a field that relies solely on the approval of others, and I've often thought about whether I made a mistake when I abandoned UCSD's Biology department three years into my degree in favor of becoming a professional doodler/part-time keyboard masher. At least in the sciences, there's little room for subjectivity; the answer is either right or it's not, and you can generally uncover the reasons for why it's wrong.

The arts, on the other hand--well, go ahead and cry. No, really. I'll wait.

Editors thrive on the salt of your tears.

Rejection is thy name, and it's something every creative type is intimately familiar with, either in the form of personal deprecation or an actual refusal from that all-important gig you had hoped to land because you just knew your career would take off if someone out there took a chance on you. I mean, sure, everyone knows what rejection feels like; maybe you were passed over in favor of someone with a better resume than you, and, hey, not every team can win first place in their little league or I dunno maybe they can I can't keep up with kids these days.

But with art, it's... different. I don't know why it's different, and maybe you'd argue that it's really not that different, but it's definitely not something you can put your finger on. Maybe Joe got that job over you because he's been at the company six weeks longer than you have, and maybe little Tommy is the lead-off batter because his batting average is higher than yours. Yeah, there are technical aspects to art and writing, but how do you account for taste? How do you explain to someone just why their piece doesn't speak to you?

The short answer is, you can't. And truth be told, that's all right. I don't love everything I see, and thankfully no one has tried burning my house down for my oversight. Not everyone likes the same things, and the chances are pretty good that there is someone out there who will like what you have to offer (see Rule 34). You just have to keep at it.

And therein lies the problem. A Catch-22, if you don't mind the cliché.

Because the longer you keep at it, the more likely you're going to run into rejection. And the more you are rejected, the harder it is to keep at it. I suppose what separates the boys from the men is how they cope with said knee to the figurative balls; who has the strength (and stubbornness) to keep throwing themselves at a brick wall, and who keels over at the first sign of failure.

If only we could all make running into obstacles look this graceful.

Here's how I cope: generally, not very well. I cry a lot (which isn't saying much because I tear up at the weather report). I ignore my responsibilities (still trying to get a handle on this whole "adulting" thing). I spend way too much time on the internet (no, checking your e-mail thirty times in an hour isn't going to make agents read your query letters faster).

But.

Coursing through my veins alongside the estrogen and adrenaline and way-too-high levels of cortisol is a burning sensation that I should probably get looked at that hounds me to keep going. Keep trying. Keep throwing myself at that fucking wall like my life depends on it, because my life does depend on it. Let myself have a five-minute pity party and then get back to work.

Because I can't quit being creative like I could my job as a bank teller. Being creative is a state of mind, encoded in the very strands of my DNA, and while it might very well be the reason for why I am miserable all the freaking time, it's also the reason for why I exist on this earth. So I guess it's not all rain clouds and dead puppies.

It could be worse!