I think the best approach to any craft is to become undeniable—to live life in a manner where you glaringly demonstrate assiduousness and discipline.  Maybe someone can say that your results/products aren’t worthy of greatness, but they should never be able to say that your EFFORT isn’t. 

And the key to ignoring unwarranted criticism (IMHO) is to operate this way until there’s no room to deny your worth to YOURSELF—screw what others think.  You KNOW you’re putting in the hours.  You KNOW you’re examining problems down to the sinew and bone, doing your damndest to make your stuff worthwhile.

What if every ideal you held sacred was revealed to be a fraud?  What if every theory you venerated, every premise you clung to, was revealed to be nothing but an empty lie?  Honestly, I don’t think it would change a thing.  We still live finite lives in a mostly unknowable existence.  I take that as:  we should live fully for the short time we’re here.  As far as the Deep Questions…who can say?  And don’t most approaches—once you strip away the ritual and pomp—imply that we should drink deeply of life and be kind to others?  Who cares what the ACTUAL reason behind that is, or if there’s some super holy person out there saying the same thing with “special” words?

 I’m just gonna do my best, enjoy what’s in front of me, and have fun with the craziness.

When it comes to leisure, I’m a perfectionist.  I LOVE watching the clouds, or an episode of Family Guy, or zoning out by the beach.  But because I’m a perfectionist, I REALLY enjoy those things after I’ve done the work I’ve assigned to myself.  

So yeah—I work hard so I can enjoy being lazy.  😉

If you’re able to perceive everyone/thing you hate/look down on as an inadvertent guru, then you will never lack instruction, and you will always find guidance.

Being loyal to a given paradigm/model of reality is admirable…until one blindly defends it against solid evidence, or refuses to question any of its discrepancies. 

Once that happens, the trap of mindless zealotry has been sprung.

Perhaps I won’t be some massively lauded success—that’s fine; that’s something I can’t control.  But what I CAN control is my day-to-day actions.  I can live my life in such a way that—to anyone who observes me on a day-to-day basis—I am undeniable.  I can live my life in such a way that before I go to sleep, I can look in the mirror and say:  

“Good job.  Do that again tomorrow.”

Being honest with evidence and using that knowledge meticulously—whether it hews to an attractive paradigm or not—is how I try and keep myself from being irresponsible.

As a writer, I’ve found that entertaining the notion that everything I believe may be wrong allows me to access a repugnant mindset.  I suspect this is one of the trickiest and hardest parts of writing:  

Being willing to explore the perspective of someone you would never associate with in real life.

I demand a certain standard of myself.  Not one I apply to others (unless I’m not watching my ego and I project my frustrations).  Because I decided long ago that I’d rather not die in a haze of regret—regret that I didn’t try hard enough, or regret that I didn’t do my best with the most efficient approach (within ethical boundaries) I could muster.

I see cool methodology/hacks as better ways to arrange my creative firewood; they allow me to burn hotter, brighter, faster…IF I supply the spark of constant discipline.  Discipline is the constant flame that gives my dreams a chance of catching.  With discipline alone, I may suffer the annoyance of trying to ignite a poorly arranged pile of fuel, but I always stand a small chance of igniting that wood.  I keep an eye out for new methodologies and adopt them if they’re useful, but I always keep in mind that without the spark of discipline, all those cool methodologies will rot and mold, much like piles of discarded firewood.