I have created a lot of things over the last several years. Well, for decades, really. But, the last several years were filled with intense peaks of creativity and learning.
Mostly digital things. Websites, apps, digital tools, small games, random experiments, and electronic music. Things that live (or lived) on the internet for a while and sometimes got attention, sometimes got ignored.
As far as music goes, like I said, it has been a lot of electronic music but I still put out some other genres as well.
Since 2021, I have released 10 albums, along with multiple EPs and singles. I have never been 100% happy with my mixing or mastering skills, but I have still put things out when they sounded good to me. I listen on whatever speakers I have. I check it on headphones. I check it in the car. I do my best. Then I let it go.
That is probably one of the hardest parts of being an artist. You know every inch of your creations. Every mistake. Every rough edge. Every place where you wish you had more skill, more time, more confidence, more money, more patience, more talent, more whatever. It is easy to stare at your own work and only see what is missing.
And then there is another problem.
Sometimes it feels like people do not care. Sometimes it feels like you are putting your heart into something and the world shrugs.
It can wear you down and make you wonder why you are doing any of it at all.
I have felt that many times.
In the early 2000s, I performed live solo and also with a band for a few years. I played open mics. I entered contests. I tried different styles of music. I showed up, even when I was nervous and not sure I belonged there.
Between music and web creations, I have always dabbled in other art too. I like making things. That is just part of me. It is not always about applause or money. Sometimes it is simply about feeling like you are contributing to the world in a cool way. And/or, getting your mind off of other things.
But even when you love creating, burnout is real.
It shows up as fatigue, frustration, doubt, anger, and depression; that slow voice in your head saying maybe nobody cares enough for this to matter. That voice can be loud and make giving up look peaceful.
It is easy to quit. Easy to delete the site. Easy to shelve the album. Easy to decide nobody is paying attention, so why bother.
I used to create websites and then months later delete them. Sometimes I would make something, sit with it for a while, and then wipe it away like it never happened. I still do that with small web projects sometimes. If a project has served its purpose and I need time and space for something else, I will let it go.
But I no longer mass delete all of my work. Because nothing good comes from that. I end up regretting it and in a worse spot.
You do not have to keep everything forever. That is not the point. The point is to keep the spark alive long enough for it to become a fire. Or, maybe spread into other sparks and fires.
It is not easy when your fire burns for no one but yourself though. Sure, it keeps you warm for a while, but creative fires need oxygen from others to stay burning. A lot of creators are not defeated by bad ideas. They are defeated by repeated disappointment. The fire burns out. Then the brain figures that the easiest thing to do is to quit and spiral into negativity.
Maybe being negative and angry will light a new fire? Probably not.
That is where the danger lives. Not in failure itself, but in the story we tell ourselves about failure. We start to believe that low attention means low value—that our creations only matter if other people validate them right away.
I might have found a little psychological trick that I think has been helping and so I will share it in case it can help someone else.
I turn any disappointment into a little game in my head.
A stubborn game—spiteful, maybe.
Not in a bitter way. More like a defiant way.
Like, fine. You do not seem to care? Only two people signed up at my new web forum? Watch me keep going anyway. You cannot break me and force small artists to crawl under rocks.
There is something powerful in that. Not because spite is noble, but because it can be fuel. Sometimes when your softer motivations are tired, the stubborn part of you can carry the torch for a while.
As far as my web projects go specifically, I also keep going simply because I think the world would be pretty terrible if niche websites didn’t exist.
Some projects do not take off the way I hoped; or, at all. Most people do not join. Less people engage. Some people seem to prefer the giant platforms where everything is flat and recycled.
But I am not quitting, because I do not think this era lasts forever.
Facebook and Instagram will not be around forever in the way people imagine. No platform stays. The internet changes. Culture changes. People change. A common example is that many people thought nothing could topple the original MySpace before Facebook came along.
One day people may look back and think, how strange was that?
How strange that we had the whole internet, and yet so much of human creativity and conversation got concentrated into just a few giant platforms. Facebook, Instagram, Threads (all three Meta), X, and TikTok.
How strange that we gave so much of ourselves to places we did not control.
How strange that we forgot how many other shapes the web can take.
I think about that a lot.
I think about smaller communities. Independent spaces. Personal sites. Weird little projects. Independent ownership. Real voice. Real creative freedom. Places where people are not just content producers inside an advertising machine.
That future still matters. So I keep building for it.
And, I keep making music even when I am unsure.
I keep going because creating is a major part of my life, and because stopping would not bring me peace. It would only bring a different kind of emptiness. A bigger emptiness. I know, because of my creative purges in the past.
And that is the message here.
Not that if you build it they will come. But, more like if you do not build it, you will not go anywhere good.
Keep making.
Keep learning.
Keep improving.
Keep showing up.
Some people will never understand you fully. Or, you may not get a lot of recognition.
That is okay.
You are still building. You are creating something from nothing.
And that is the real victory. Not fame. Not perfect recognition. Not applause. Just the stubborn, sacred act of continuing.
That is how artists survive.
Keep going.
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