Alright then. Here we go.
So I used to talk about my ideas, my stories, a lot. So much actually that it turned into just talk with no effort and all I was really doing was musing on the idea of my creative brilliance- what could and would be... once I had the time and inspiration to actually do the thing.
Then suddenly I'm 39 and I'm about to be 40 and I kinda had this 'oh shit' moment where I hadn't told any stories aside from the true one's outside the bar smoking a cigarette when I was 24.
Having developed a decent work ethic over the past 20 or so years I buckled down and ground out a comic with a due date of July 5th, printed, and in hand.
I was early on my deadline by about a month. And of course, like most creatives, once I had the comic in hand and I looked at it, I fucking hate it, the print looked like shit, and I generally felt like I had failed. Most of those comics are in a box in the basement. But, the few people I did show it to seemed to like it. And I was proud of myself for completing it. So despite the self loathing I decided to push forward into a second issue which, as of writing this, I'm about half way through.
I'm hoping to update on a schedule eventually, but as of right now, well... this is mostly for me to just get out there at whatever pace I can.
Comments