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AKA: how two FatChix failed their way to success - and learned to like it.

Failing is a surprisingly difficult thing to do. At least, it is if you have some level of OCD and are trying to make it as an artist in a pragmatic, unsympathetic society.

But failing in and of itself is also an art form. There are good failures and bad failures, and mastering them is how we finally figured out how to quit our jobs and make money as full-time artists. Learning how to fail into success is THE most important lesson we could leave you with, so we decided to start our new project with it.

Now, you might be saying to yourself, WTF does that mean?

Well, it means that when we started out, we sucked and we didn't know it. We weren't professional. We had no idea what we were doing. We had zero dollar bills (this is still true, just more manageable #thanksnyc). And the worst/best part was that we believed our art was AMAZING. We thought we were original and interesting and had a lot to offer the world, but the world just wasn't listening, so - F the world, we would just do it ourselves.

Someone - and don't ask me who because I can't remember now - once told me that in order to be successful as an entrepreneur or even as an artist, one must be wildly passionate and incredibly deluded.

I think this person was a genius.

It's true. You do have to be wildly passionate about your work to make it through all of the boundless rejection letters, the slammed doors, the cancelled gigs, the cancelled checks, the ulcer in your stomach every time rent is due, and that deep, inner and unexplainable sorrow every time you read another story on Facebook about one of your 'normal' friends buying things like houses when you are still buying dollar store underwear because it - like you - is 'slightly imperfect'.

A lot of times, we worry that our followers and even some of our friends think we are just having the BEST TIME EVER.

And sometimes, we really are having the BEST TIME EVER. Any time you see us on set, busting out a camera, or writing a script, it is pretty much guaranteed that we are having a blast. That ain't no lie.

But most of the time, we are drinking diet coke (stop judging us - it's delicious. Also, Coke & Co., wanna hit us up?) to stay awake and pounding Tums because the fear of never knowing where your next paycheck will come from gives you nightmares and ulcers.


And it burns right through the lining of your stomach. I like to call this fear the "Make-Shit-Happen-Or-Die" Diet Plan. Because you will lose weight on it. And brain cells trying to figure out how to fail less and succeed more.

That fear is a real dick. It is also your best friend, you just don't know it yet.

Consider this:

You go out and get a regular job because said fear is, indeed, a real dick.

You are now going to have a hell of a hard time sticking to your regular 9-5 job and pretending not to hate every single person that shoves their tedium onto your desk so they can do 'important golf things' while you sit on your ass contemplating the mysteries of life on their dime.

Let's just be real for a sec.

You will inevitably find the 'regular' hours of a 9-5 totally irregular for your particular body/brain set because you (A) despise monotony and (B) would rather be almost anywhere else.

This visceral need to push back against a system that does not work for you is the first sign that you have begun to fail.

You're not as motivated.

You feel stuck both in l