Some days I hate my life. Don’t get me wrong, I know
people all over the world have less and are happy. It’s not about having for
me. It’s about doing. It’s about feeling like I’m not doing enough, like what I
am doing isn’t what I am meant to and it’s certainly not what I want to.
Again, this is nothing new or unique.
I never claimed it to be.
Overall I have a fairly good life- love, family, a job
that pays (some) of my bills. Things that some people would kill for; things
some may never have. Does that make me ungrateful? Maybe. Do I care? Not
especially.
I know I’m grateful for the things I have and the
people that are in my life- if anything the awesomeness of those things is what
makes it that much more frustrating.
Before I started making comic books I worked a shitty
job, much like the (less) shitty job I work now. Working as an auto parts
person in a dealership means you’re never right, it’s always your fault and
doing two or three things at once is never enough. I know you’re thinking “yeah,
right”. Tell you what, you go do my job
for a week and tell me it isn’t like that. For the most part that doesn’t bother
me; I’ve got a solid enough ego and the pay is decent for a fairly reasonable amount
of work- there’s some heavy lifting but far from what one would call
back-breaking. Stress, sure, but lots of jobs have that.
No, what gets to me is that I started making comic
books and discovered a whole new world a world that I want to live in, not the
drudgery of the one I do now.
It’s a world where people, at least the ones I have
worked with, are extremely talented and even more humble than that about their
gifts. A world where working together as a team is a must but more than that,
it is a pleasure. One where everyone works towards the same goals and gives it
their best effort and always wants the next job to be even better. It’s a world
where, although the pay is low or even non-existent, the rewards are immeasurable.
You can’t put a price on what it means for a group of
people to bring to life a story that didn’t exist before- to birth new ideas
and new characters and situations. Pulling that off is amazing. And, much like
the birth of a “real” person, it is not without its perils and pains. But it is
ALWAYS worth it. Even when things don’t turn out the way you expected or wanted
to, it is worth it.
Until you’ve worked the hundreds of hours that it takes
to put together a comic book it’s really hard to appreciate fully- I was a fan
for almost 30 years and still never really understood how harrowing and elating
it is to create a story in this medium.
As a writer, you live with these characters in your
head for days, weeks, years; they become as real as to you as the people you
walk past on the street. You can hear their voices as you type; you understand
the things that motivate them, the things they fear. Despite this knowledge,
they still surprise you. They make decisions or take actions that seem so
against what you had planned for them- not unlike a child might do to a parent.
As an artist- whether it be pencils, inks, colors or letters,
you create the world that these characters inhabit as much, if not more, than
the writer who wrote the story. You fill in all those little details that make
it come alive. The way a character holds themselves as they deal with a
stressful situation, their body language, their expressions, the way the lighting
strikes their face. Artists do all this as they toil away for hours and hours.
They get to know every facet of each page, building and erasing, adding and
taking away until the art of the page, of the book is done; so much of it
subtle enough that only THEY know everything that went into it.
There lay the problem- these are the things that I love
and the people that I love doing them with- artists and storytellers, creators
of worlds that are fictional only in the sense that they do not exist unless we
create them, and once we do, they become real- to both ourselves and our
readers. We cheer them, we boo them, we witness the rise and fall of both
heroes and villains. With every page we experience we invest some of ourselves
into it- both creator and reader.
So how can one NOT want to live in that world? A world
where people care, where they want nothing but the best of results and support
each other in doing so?
Clearly there are many reasons one cannot do so- chief
among them is the financial costs- putting these sorts of stories together are
not cheap and we all have bills to pay. Comic books, even at their height, are unfortunately
not a large money medium. One cannot hope to invest a few months of work and
see the sort of returns that you would from a feature film- and even though
some charge such, good luck getting ten bucks per head for a comic.
Like the majority of independent comic book creators I
know, that means I have to have a day job- some are lucky and have ones that
they love doing, others… Well we do what we need to get by just like anyone
else. We use the time we steal from friends and family to pursue what we are
passionate about- telling stories and sharing them with others. We stay up and
pull all-nighters to finish inking a page, we write dialogue in the shower, we
letter on our lunch breaks and color the moment our kids go to bed. We work on
birthdays and anniversaries, on days off and after long shifts.
We do it not only because we love to but because we are
driven to.
Something compels us to keep chipping away at the ideas
that call to us while we wake and even while we sleep. Characters whose stories
need to be told; stories that resonant with us and perhaps with some of you;
stories that can have great depth and meaning and some that are just meant to
be fun and taken at face value.
If you are one of those brave souls who have embarked
on this path with us, as a reader or fellow creator, I must thank you. Your
words of encouragement and excitement are the shoulders that we lean on when
the story just isn’t working out right, when it seems like the page will never
finish being drawn, that the colors seem off or the words just won’t fit. It
propels us to greater heights as we strive to one-up the story we did before to
excite you as much as scare ourselves that perhaps we might have over-reached
or pushed so far that our reach exceeds our grasp. Just because we are driven
to do something doesn’t mean it’s easy, but you all make it that much easier.
Even on the days where we hate everything for being so
damn hard.
The days where it seems nothing will ever work out, that we’ll never
get ahead or get that break that allows us to do what we love as our sole occupation. It’s a double edge sword, once you fall down that
rabbit hole of creating comics- it can cut you with a harsh reality of mounting
bills and low sales, but it can cut away all the troubles in the world with a
simple, “that was a really great read, dude.”
That’s my rant, thanks for being there- I’ll keep
plugging away at these books if you’re willing to stick it through with me- it’s
no fun when you go at things alone. I don’t want fans, just friends along for
the ride.