If there is an artist reading this—exhausted, frightened, embarrassed by the size of your own wanting—I want to say something plainly:    Make the thing.   Write it. Paint it. Build it. Stage it. Ask the question. Send the email. Be embarrassingly earnest. Be valiant.  Not because the world owes you applause—it doesn’t—but because making things is one of the oldest and most generous acts available to a human being.   Make things because they delight you. Make things because they confuse you. Make t...