i use color crayons and i drew batman because your tube shows the new bat cave and joker too but manny said that sucks. i thought it was good. i get so mad when people are a critic when i do a good drawing of joker

Don't mean to be mean, but as others have said here, LW you're being too easy on yourself. Grow up, get out of your parent's basement, get a job, and get on with life. Art will find you then. Cary could have stopped after pointing out this was nothing more than sparks and flares thrown off by the anxious (and young, undisciplined) mind. This person hasn't even taken the time to learn enough about herself and her options to ask a coherent question. There have got to be far more deserving letters and advice seekers out there?

It's easy to see this person isn't even the writer she thinks she is, and from that I'm sure she's not the artist she imagines herself to be, either. And, my point in noting that is this is the time for tough love. If you really want a chance in life to succeed artistically, don't doubt that there are opportunities for the truly dedicated. But also don't harbor any doubts that you're off to a weak start so far, it would appear, and you have got to raise the bar on yourself. You couldn't stand to sit through the horror of a drawing session? The mind boggles. You need a wake up call more than advice. Best of luck.

Maybe what you need is fun.

Writing is work. Sometimes it's the kind of soul-absorbing, transporting work that leaves you broken open and exhausted. And sometimes it just pays the bills. If you're good at it, it feeds the ego as well as the body. But it isn't always fun.

Think of it like an olypmic runner- when they train they are focused, completely aware of their own flaws, intent on achieving their best. They may do the same activity as someone who jogs for pleasure - but the experience is very different.

I have always loved painting, drawing etc. And I'm good enough to know I'm not good enough. My mother has had paintings in galleries and my sister is a graphic designer, so I know of what I speak. I'd never make a living at it, but I love it.

I spend more time on the visual arts than writing and I finally realized why... it's because I don't judge myself. It's just fun. I dont' get frustrated, I don't become self-critical. I don't care. I just tell people its cheaper than therapy.

Do what makes you happy - but don't put pressure on yourself to be serious about all of it. Just have fun.

Some of us, lacking true genius in any specific medium, become well-rounded individuals. That is a great source of anxiety in the decade between 20 and 30, when most geniuses make or have already made their mark.

Letter Writer, as a well-rounded individual, you are in good company and probably a delight to be with. Cycle through the various projects that make you happy, and sell some of your works at art and craft shows if you can afford the application fees and mileage.

As for your career, just find something with health care benefits and a high enough salary that you can pay the rent and a little extra for your art supplies.

You don't need a degree to do either of the things you want to do, but it's easier to become a working writer with a degree in art than a working artist with a degree in writing.

First of all, there's no such thing as the wrong art. I'm a writer. I will always define myself as a writer; I can't not write. But I'm getting paid to make textures for 3d characters in video games. That's how I earn a living. I started doing it for my own benefit, and weirdly enough, people kept shoving money in my pockets, so I ran with it. Art had always been a hobby for me but not something I considered myself good enough to get paid for. I was wrong about that. When I look back, I have a history of making good art - starting with the sculpture that my eighth grade art teacher liked so much she stole it from me. But I never defined myself as an artist. The best laid plans, etc.

Second, at some point, if you want to get paid, you're going to have to learn to work. That's true whether you're a writer, a painter, a programmer, or the owner of a restaurant. Even the things you love to do are not necessarily what you are going to want to do right this very instant while your house note is looming on the horizon. The process of making a living as an artist is the process of learning how to slap that muse in harness and make it pull. You learn to work through periods when you don't feel like working. At first you may think, Oh, that's no good, I didn't "feel" that while I was making it. But then you're going to notice something - your training and discipline have paid off, and the work looks pretty damned inspired to an outside observer. Eventually the goal is to master shifting into the state of inspiration on command. Personally, I think there's a trick to it - I mean a physical trick, something involving different centers of your brain lighting up - and that trick can be learned.

Anyway, it's up for dispute whether or not inspiration can be mastered, but it's definitely possible to master the feeling of freedom that comes from being an artist - even when you'd rather be snapping string peas. Just repeat this mantra: "I could be working retail."

Sure, you can choose one thing - and then another. But that only works if you choose something.

People fear commitment for a reason -but it's a terrible reason. Sure, in any given moment, choosing one thing means missing out on all other things until the commitment is complete. But refusing to choose means you miss all things indefinitely.

Refusing to choose is how we attempt to blackmail the world, which - as Ani Difranco writes in her song, "Joyful Girl" - "owes me nothing, and we owe each other the world." You would probably appreciate that whole song, by the way.

It's as if we say, "I won't commit to this project until I am guaranteed that the fruits of that commitment will be deemed worthwhle by the world." "I won't give this gift unless I can count on getting the reaction I want." "I don't want to do this unless you can promise me I will never have a moment of wishing I had done something else with my time, talent & resources."

There is no such thing. So let's choose what we wouldn't want to miss creating, even though we will have moments of doubting that it's been worth it.

When I was working on my book, a friend who's produced a lot of solid work (that also happens to be beloved by others) taught me to allow each project to be a spiritual exercise. He said, "I make it my focus to walk all the way through the creative process without abandoning myself in the process."

I believe that's what brings the joy - both for the creator and those who encounter the creator's work.