Make the claim that the boredom is an intentional literary device to further illustrate the message of vanity, absurdity, and pointlessness. This is a bit disingenuous, like the guy who shoots his bow wildly and then draws targets around randomly shot arrows.
Scrap the whole thing and write a stage play or screen play. No more graphic novel? Ouch.
Scrap Ecclesiastes and go mow my lawn. And give up philosophical ruminations? Double ouch.
Reformat the whole thing:
- give students only 2 panels (delete the second row of 1-3 boxes) to riff on Dr. Q. This would essentially cut the book--and boredom--in half. Less is more, but that much less?
- enlarge the size of my printed hard copy thus giving me a larger drawing space in which to draw settings, props, action, etc. This would essentially render my existing 428 pages null and void...after all that work!
- put new words into Dr. Q's mouth; fictionalize him. This would make the finished product "based upon the book of Ecclesiastes" rather than "taking every word of the ancient text as is and seeing it crash against modern thinking."
- keep the format but reduce the number of characters. Theoretically I could cut the number of students in half, combining various traits into one. This would cut down the confusion of who's who but increase confusion about student motives. Currently each student represents one philosophical/emotional point of view. Blending them would make each character complex and self contradictory. Plus, I might get bored with the few students that remain. I like the variety of a huge cast of characters.
- press on hoping readers will eventually identify with the individual characters. This is risky because there is no glue currently keeping readers engaged. Even with spiffed up drawings I suspect the insipid dialog will be lethal. Death by word balloon.
- increase the wit and wisdom of student comments. When I read a really good book I hang on every word, dreading the end. I want it to keep on going. Here's where fantasy crashes against reality. I just don't have the synaptic chops to charm audiences like Steve Martin, Woody Allen, David Sedaris, Dave Barry, Mark Twain, Tina Fey, Robert Benchley, S J Pereleman, Bill Bryson, Daniel Gilbert, Soren Kierkegaard (he knocked 'em dead in Denmark), or (insert name here).
- press on and hope to find readers with low expectations. Surely in a planet of 7 billion somebody, somewhere likes bad puns, angst overkill, and talking heads.
- abandon audience approval entirely and write the book I wish I had in college. In a later post I'll reproduce some cartoons I drew while at UW '79-'81.
- gamble my reputation on good drawings justifying boring text. This is a huge gamble and I'm notorious for losing gambles. Want proof? My closets are full of manuscripts, wheels, drawings and self published books that failed to garner audience interest. I killed a small forest trying to get traction as a purveyor of peace making comics, sapiential psychology, and mixed metaphors.
- change my audience. Instead of modern college students perhaps I should aim to connect with fundamentalists. Ecclesiastes is in their book and my graphic novel would call attention to and validate its message. This, however, may prove the hardest sell of all because fundamentalists are disinclined to grapple with randomness, failed theodicies, and the puncturing of tidy systematic theology. Nobody likes to be told the king has no clothes or that Pollyanna providence is a myth.
I have to leave for work soon so must end this problem solving musing. My inner optimist believes that there is an answer to this somewhere, I just haven't found it yet. I'll mull over these options and see which sticks.
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