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Recently, I . I wrote about the eternal state of guilt many writers feel � guilt for not writing when they feel like they should be, and guilt for writing, which doesn’t feel like “real� work to sustain a business.

My business has two sides that are sometimes related, sometimes not. In addition to being a fantasy author, I’m also an artist. I’ve created my own book covers, hand-drawn maps, symbols, character sketches, custom emojis, and other artwork related to the series.

But I also create drawings that aren’t tied to the books at all. When I set up my booth at markets, festivals, conventions, et cetera, I almost always have two tables. One is centered around the books; the other is a display of my art.

Author/Artist Sara A. Noë cosplaying as a character from her book series behind her art table at the Chesterton European Market in Indiana.

Every month, I draw a new piece of art that will be featured in my . Sometimes, the artwork joins my inventory lineup as an art print that I sell. Other times, it doesn’t.

My Level 2 and 3 can watch me draw the monthly artwork in exclusive timelapse videos. I also often share insights about challenges I faced and what inspired me to draw a particular subject matter.

But what I don’t share is how I feel about a piece when it’s done. And now, it’s confession time.

I’m rarely 100% happy with the art when I finish. I often need several weeks or even months before I can appreciate it.

I’ll admit � I’m sometimes reluctant to share the finished piece because it doesn’t feel like it’s good enough. I’m extremely nitpicky when it comes to my art, and I hyperfixate on the tiny little details I didn’t get quite right, even if they’re practically unnoticeable to other people. This was definitely the case with two of my most popular art pieces, “Dandy Bee� and “Dahlia Dragonfly.�

People instantly fell in love with these two when I first released them, and these sketches are still among my top sellers today. I sell these prints on artboards, canvases, mouse pads, notecards, postcards, puzzles, keychains, necklaces, and earrings.

But I didn’t love them at first. Insects were not a subject matter that came naturally to me, and I didn’t have experience drawing bees or dragonflies, so both pieces were a challenge. I didn’t feel like I’d successfully captured the image that was in my head and I was trying to translate onto the page.

When I was finished, I couldn’t see past the parts I wished I could tweak a little more, even as I was receiving praise from friends, fans, and strangers alike.

I’ve found that this is a common occurrence with most of my art. It could be a symptom of that affects many creatives. Or perhaps it’s a neurodivergent perfectionism issue.

(Probably a combination of both.)

Over time, I eventually forget about the mistakes I’d fixated on during and right after the creation, or they become less impactful. But the more frequently I see someone making a connection with a particular art piece (I believe that art should “speak� to people, and I personally don’t buy anything that doesn’t speak to me), the more the art grows on me even though I’m the creator. I’m able to step back and appreciate the piece as a whole instead of zeroing in on the tiniest details that bothered me.

As I focus on new drawings (and the new flaws, of course), my frustration with the older ones fades. Within a few months, I’ve accepted the art. But it takes time for me to reach that stage.

It’s an interesting conundrum, to say the least. Such is the life of an artist.

Interested in seeing more of my art and supporting my business?

to receive updates and a list of my upcoming scheduled events to see timelapse videos and behind-the-scenes content while supporting my career with a small monthly subscription that helps me cover business expenses Follow my official , , and accounts (please comment, like, and share!) as an artist and author here on my website The post first appeared on .