Wouldn’t It Be Easier To Sell My Soul – Flash Fiction

*Marianna is getting tired of trying to build skills AND a platform all at once, wouldn’t it be easier to just sell her soul?*

Marianna sighed at the last canvas she could afford, at the paints drying out on her shelves. It had all cost her so much, she had been convinced it would be the springboard for the rest of her art career.

Around the room each previously rendered canvas sat propped against the walls. The poor colour composition one. The slightly askew proportions one. The one that had seemed so perfect until Marianna had tried to show it, when the gallery had turned her down, she’d started to pick flaws until she’d had to turn it to face the wall.

She had worked hard on her sketches, on the artwork she could manage with cheap pencils and scrap paper before ever investing any of her little money in proper supplies.

Those sketches had once adorned the walls but now they were all stuffed into a folder, bringing a sense of shame rather than the joy.

She’d spent the time and done her research. But it wasn’t as easy as she had expected transferring from one format to another, building a platform, making herself known, getting her art to be good and maybe even have half a hope of her art making a little money.

Not everybody wanted to have their art make income, Marianna wasn’t even settled into the idea that she wanted to make a full income from her art, she just wanted to be able to afford it. Afford to keep trying, afford to buy new supplies when she needed them. There was, of course, the small part of Marianna that wanted her art to make enough money that she could devote all her time to it. The small, often ignored part, that didn’t want to keep subjecting herself to the poorly paid job that asked too much of her every shift.

But admitting that was too risky. Admitting dissatisfaction opened the door to sinking into despair.

Practicing, learning a new skill was always hard, but when you were struggling to manage to afford the things required to allow you that practice…

“Wouldn’t it be easier to sell my soul?” Marianna muttered.

Once again her eyes landed on the last canvas she had to her name.

It took no time at all for the paint to glow or the portal to tear a hole in the canvas.


Practising a new skill is hard, especially when it’s a creative skill. Don’t underestimate the impact of the times you have learnt a new level of skill but your practice hasn’t quite caught up.

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