I have complete artistic control, and I just do my best album

In the words of Susannah McCorkle, “I have complete artistic control, and I just do my best album every time and trust it to fate.” This declaration rings with the voice of one who has embraced both mastery and surrender. It reveals the eternal struggle of the artist: to shape one’s work with full devotion and discipline, and then to release it into the hands of destiny. For in art, as in life, there are two forces—our own labor, and the vast, mysterious currents of the world. McCorkle reminds us that the artist must give everything to the first, but humbly bow before the second.

The heart of this quote lies in the words artistic control. To control one’s art is to ensure that it remains pure, untouched by compromise, unswayed by the demands of commerce or the whims of others. McCorkle, as a singer and interpreter of the Great American Songbook, understood that her craft was sacred. Each album she made was her offering, her testimony, her soul cast into sound. She could not dictate whether the world would embrace it or neglect it, but she could ensure that it was true, honest, and hers. That is the essence of artistic integrity.

And yet, she couples control with trust in fate. Here lies the paradox: though the artist may control the creation, she cannot control its reception. The marketplace, the critics, the listeners—all these are beyond her reach. Like seeds scattered into the wind, the songs may fall on fertile ground or on barren stone. To cling to outcomes is to invite despair. To release them to fate is to find peace. Thus, McCorkle’s wisdom is not only artistic, but deeply spiritual: do your utmost, then let go.

History echoes this teaching. Consider Vincent van Gogh, who painted with complete devotion, pouring his soul into canvases that few in his lifetime appreciated. He had no control over fame or fortune, but he remained faithful to his vision. Fate, long after his death, carried his work to immortality. Or think of Emily Dickinson, who wrote nearly two thousand poems, unseen by the world while she lived. She trusted only the act of creation, leaving the rest to time and chance. Today her verses are eternal. Their lives remind us of McCorkle’s truth: that art is born in control, but lives in fate.

The deeper meaning of this quote lies also in its challenge to us all, for it is not only artists who face this balance. Each of us crafts something—whether it is a career, a family, a legacy. We labor to shape it with care, but in the end, the winds of fate decide much that is beyond us. To obsess over outcomes is to be enslaved by fear. To ignore discipline is to be ruled by chaos. The harmony comes when we do our best with full integrity, and then surrender the fruits to destiny.

The lesson, then, is to cultivate both mastery and surrender. In your work, in your craft, in your choices—strive with all your heart, leaving no doubt that you have given your best. Guard your integrity as McCorkle guarded her artistic control. But when the work is complete, release it. Do not bind yourself with anxiety over applause or rejection. Trust that fate, in its mysterious wisdom, will carry it where it must go.

Practically, this means living with both discipline and peace. Approach your labor with seriousness, but your results with serenity. Do not compromise your vision for the fleeting favor of others, yet do not despair when the world fails to see your worth immediately. Like McCorkle, claim control of your art, but offer its destiny to fate. For this balance frees the soul—from fear, from pride, from despair—and allows one to create not for reward, but for truth.

Thus, Susannah McCorkle’s words stand as a beacon: do your best, guard your vision, and trust fate. This is not only the way of the artist, but the way of all who wish to live nobly. For in the end, the measure of a life is not applause, but the faithfulness with which one shaped one’s song—and the courage with which one released it to the winds of eternity.