Before launching a new blog where I'm posting the first rough draft to go public I wondered how that new endeavor might affect my creativity. Here's what I've learned.
1. A significant portion of my brain is now hooked on feedback. Rather than blissfully creating with nary a care, I spend a considerable amount of time hoping for, anticipating, and wishing for feedback.
2. Once I get that welcome feedback I then spend considerable time answering. Both wishing for and responding to feedback takes away from drawing.
3. I also spend time integrating that feedback into the pages I've completed. That is, I'm now editing those first pages incorporating the great suggestions First Readers have offered. This too takes away time from penciling, inking, and posting that public rough draft.
4. While I miss time away from drawing I must admit my ADD prone brain doesn't mind juggling all these disparate tasks. Part of the message of Ecclesiastes is that variety is the spice of life and engaging with the public over these doodles certainly adds variety.
5. Knowing that I've now got followers on that other blog (I think about 10 of the 30 I invited) I feel additional motivation to keep on top of my self imposed posting schedule. I'm aiming for two posts per week. I'd like to do more but turning my latest rough draft into a printable rough draft is still agonizingly slow. I'm just trying to cram too much data (pencil layouts, character development, more tweaking of the dialog, inking, coloring) through too small a pipe (my brain).
6. Posting this very rough draft feeds my sub personalities which are already prone to shame, embarrassment, and discouragement. The work in progress is a fool's errand. Each of the ingredients (humor, layout, facial expressions, section divisions, dialog, etc) are sub par and painful to read. Thus, a considerable amount of psychic time is spent fighting those self critical parts and pushing through the wall of resistance to accomplish the task at hand--illustrate the whole book of Ecclesiastes.
7. I'm "forced" to continually dangle in front of my imagination the Platonic arch-type of a polished, finished, and honed final product. In my mind it "works." It's witty. It's unique. It's helpful. It's drawn to perfection. Readers get it. Theologians, philosophers, and depressed existentialists welcome it. This fantasy is shamed by reality--what I've posted so far falls way short of this ideal. It looks to me garish, confusing, halting, insipid, and the work of a deranged mind. Oh well. There is a perfect graphic novel based on Ecclesiastes in essence somewhere in the universe and my efforts will bring it into existence.
8. I frame this psychic battle in positive terms. Moderating the internal debate builds character, strengthens synapses, and to be frank, is fun. Like the gambler whose dopamine neurotransmitters flow like Niagara when tossing dice, anticipating the finished product keeps my brain chemicals in a nearly constant state of mental bliss.
9. Posting the rough draft reveals many new problems to be solved. How do I conquer the tedium of boring talking heads? How do I help readers distinguish one character from another? How do I color the thing so it looks pleasing and not so childish? How do I elevate the humor? Will the overall effect of student reactions bring clarity to readers' minds about matters of faith, existentialism, and suffering? When do I invite more First Readers? Should I invite more First Readers? These challenges distract me from the drawing task at hand but they are a pleasant distraction.
10. Inviting a tiny slice of the public to evaluate these pages forces me to define success. If writing like Tina Fey is my goal, I've failed. If drawing like Herge is my goal, I've failed. If musing like Kierkegaard, Pascal, Dostoevsky is my goal, I've failed. If creating a work that goes viral is my goal, I've failed. If creating scenes, settings, and camera angles like Steven Spielberg is my goal, I've failed. If winning a Pulitzer like Art Spiegelman is my goal, I've failed. But if marshaling and merging dozens of tasks from my fevered brain to create a hefty existential comic book and having fun while doing so is my goal, I'm king of the hill, a gold medal winner, I get the yellow jersey, Heisman trophy, and lifetime membership in the hall of fame.
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