The past week was pretty weird.
After working more or less every single day over the past several months on the art and more recently, the script, for Sucker’s Game I now find myself having wrapped up both.
Until I have everything digitized and organized on the computer and ready to be sent off for the initial proof copy things aren’t really finished, but the creative work is done. The daily grind has rolled to a halt.
It’s left me in a strange kind of creatively bankrupt limbo.
You work towards something everyday, think about it all the time, hear the words in your head and see the pictures when you close your eyes and then before you know it, whammo bammo, there it is in front of you. What was inside of you is now outside of you and you look at it cockeyed, half confused, wondering where the hell all of this just came from.
It’s mostly you, but a lot of something else, and I look at Sucker’s Game almost like it’s not mine anymore. It grew up. The Bordello started off as a joke, picked up a stupid amount of steam and grew into this thing that became a graphic novel.
Taking all the work I’ve done for it as a whole, I’m alternately over the moon and supremely embarrassed, just like with any other creative endeavor that means something. Maybe it doesn’t amount to much with other people, but it gets me going and has kept me interested and I’ve got to figure that if I can entertain myself there have to be other people out there who’d dig it as well. Maybe they’ll even toss some sacks of money at it.
(Note to those who possess sacks of money: I will never reject a good, full sack of money. Send them my way.)
For the time being though, I’m still in that limbo.
Bodacious babes cannot tempt me to lift mine pen, nor gentlemen garbed in fine clothes, nor contorted androgynous forest dwellers floating through a perpetually autumnal wood.
Hemingway talked about this stuff when it came to writing, how it felt like an emptying process. You pour yourself into a creative vessel, whether it’s a book or a comic or a painting, and then when you find yourself having finished it you see there’s little left inside you to give until you find yourself full up with ideas and inspiration once again.
It leaves me feeling supremely dissatisfied and restless. You know what they say though…dissatisfaction breeds creativity.
Something like that.
In that ballpark, anyway.
Mmm, aphorisms…Mmm, creativity…Mmm, donuts.
In any case, I think it’s martini time…