The Part of Being an Artist Nobody Warned Me About

When I first started dreaming about becoming an artist, I imagined spending my days drawing.

I imagined sketchbooks, coloured pencils, wildlife references, and finished artwork hanging on walls.

What I didn't imagine was spending so much time wondering what to post on social media.

No one really talks about that part.

The strange reality that creating the artwork is only half the job.

The other half is somehow figuring out how to share it.

And if I'm being honest, that's the part I've struggled with the most.

Not because I don't enjoy connecting with people.

I do.

Not because I don't appreciate the opportunities social media creates.

I absolutely do.

It's more that I've never quite felt like I know what I'm doing there.

When I sit down at my drawing desk, I know exactly what to do.

I know how to study a reference photo.

I know how to build layers of coloured pencil.

I know how to spend hours chasing the perfect expression or trying to capture the personality of an animal.

But when it comes to social media?

Half the time I feel like I'm making it up as I go.

What Am I Supposed to Post?

That's probably the question I've asked myself more than any other.

A finished drawing?

Another work in progress?

A photo of my desk?

A dog sleeping on my lap?

A story about a drawing?

A reel? (I've thought about learning. I've purchased courses. The courses are still waiting patiently for me. Much like several unfinished drawings.)

A carousel? (From what I understand, these are useful. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.)

A behind-the-scenes video? (You're assuming I remember to film before I'm halfway through the drawing.)

Some days it feels like there are endless options. (Should I post a drawing? A work in progress? A studio update? A dog update? A bear update? Another bear update? A different bear update? The possibilities are overwhelming.)

Other days it feels like I have absolutely nothing worth sharing. (Which is fascinating, considering I have thousands of photos on my phone and at least three dogs doing something ridiculous at any given moment.)

Meanwhile, I've usually got three unfinished drawings, two new ideas (which is artist code for ten), and a wildlife inspiration folder that seems to multiply when I'm not looking.

Every time I open it, there's another bear waiting for me.

Or a tiger.

Or an otter.

Or a snow leopard cub looking impossibly adorable and suddenly convincing me that everything else can wait.

At this point, it's less of an inspiration folder and more of a waiting room.

The bears are wondering when it's their turn.

The tigers are getting impatient.

The otters are being adorable about it.

And the snow leopard cubs keep using their cuteness as leverage.

Honestly, it's a miracle anything ever gets chosen.

The Pressure to Always Be Visible

One thing I've learned is that social media can create a strange kind of pressure.

The feeling that you should always be posting.

Always showing up.

Always creating content.

Always staying visible.

And sometimes that feels very different from creating art.

Art often requires quiet.

Patience.

Time.

Space to think.

Space to explore.

Space to get lost in the process.

Those things don't always fit neatly into an algorithm.

The Seasons Nobody Sees

There have been times when I've gone quiet online.

Not because I stopped creating.

Quite the opposite.

Usually it's because I've been deeply immersed in a drawing, spending every spare moment working on it.

Sometimes life gets busy.

Family needs more of my attention.

Commission work fills my schedule.

Sometimes I'm simply focused on creating rather than documenting every step of the process.

And before I know it, weeks have passed.

Then comes the familiar question:

"How do I come back?"

What I'm Learning

The older I get, the more I realize that I don't need to approach social media the same way everyone else does.

I don't need to post every day.

I don't need to chase every trend.

I don't need to have everything figured out.

What I can do is share the things that matter to me.

The artwork.

The stories behind it.

The animals that inspire me.

The dogs that supervise me.

The drawings that succeed.

The drawings that struggle.

The real journey.

Because at the end of the day, that's what my art has always been about.

Connection.

And maybe that's enough.

Maybe I don't need to be an expert at social media.

Maybe I just need to keep showing up as myself.

One drawing, one story, and one slightly confused Instagram post at a time. 🐾