Everybody is different

I have spent the last few years depressed. Ignited by one situation and now fueled by bouts of unemployment, 9 months of couch surfing, and unemployment again. Here's some things I learned about myself, in regards to making comics.

1. I can still write even when at my lowest low.

2. I may not be able to draw when I am that low. 

3. Drawing improves my mood for that day.

4. When I am couch surfing, I cannot draw digitally. I need a desk and space and privacy.

5. I need a cintiq. I'm extremely put off by the struggles on a tablet now.

When I was living on couches, I wanted to draw. But I couldn't. I had too much inner turmoil broiling around from not having my necessary space. And the fact that I couldn't draw bothered me so much. I read inspirational stories from other artists talking about a time they were couch surfing and made comics. Why couldn't I?

What I didn't realize is that the stories are the success stories. Obviously. But I think there are successful artists who are like me and cannot work like that. And they wouldn't talk about it specifically, since it's in the "failures" column. But it doesn't mean I can't succeed. It means I have requirements and limitations. Everyone has limitations, maybe self-imposed, maybe not, but we all have them. That's okay.

It's okay that I need my door closed or an empty house in order to draw. I don't need that to write.

I can write anywhere, any time. It's weird, it's abnormal. I never get writer's block, I don't need a special set up. I can just go. My art needs the babying. That's okay.

It meant that I had 9 months of no drawing. That was hard. That was me spending every day wondering why I was failing. Why couldn't do this? Did I not want it enough? Maybe. Depression tends to prioritize itself and easy things. 

We shouldn't beat ourselves up because we differ from others. Just because my friend can draw anywhere she has room to set down a laptop doesn't mean I'm failing. It's a reflection on her abilities, but not mine.

Everybody is different. 

Taking care of your artsy body

If you're an artist, you are at risk for certain injuries: carpal tunnel, neck pain, back pain, and a variety of hand and arm injuries. This is because you are using those parts of your body all the time. Normal, not-artist people use those parts of their body regularly, but have lots of times during the day where they let those muscles sit lifelessly.

As an artist, you draw for fun, work, and release. And, let's be honest, drawing uses more muscles than typing or video gaming (sans wii and kinect, etc). You've got these muscles from your fingers to your neck all tight and focused and tight and working and tight and, did I mention tight? Yeah, they get super tight. And if you're not careful, you can make them flip out, as I did this last week.

It's happened to me before. When I work, I get into a zone and usually don't surface for many hours. I have had more than my fair share of days spent from wake til sleep drawing, music blaring, the world totally tuned out. That's my style. So my muscles, every few years, suddenly seize up and give me agony for a week or so. It's always sudden, unpredictable, and pathetic. I end up camped out in my Daddy's heavenly recliner for the duration (he's the best ♥Dad♥ for giving up that chair to me, even though he has a bad back and loves to relax there best of anywhere else), staring at daytime TV (American Pickers, anyone?) and whimpering for my Momma to bring me food when I'm hungry to help me get out of the chair when I need the bathroom (she's the best Mom, brings me all the muscle relaxants, tylenol, food, and heat packs I need ♥♥). Sounds fun, and it is in a way, except that I am in endless pain that never stops, I can't lift my head on my own, and can't turn or chew too much or swallow without pain. Do you understand? It's the worst pain ever. EVER.

So, I highly recommend, to you artists out there--even if you've never had this pain, you probably will--I recommend you set a timer when you're doing your art and take a break every hour. Go on a walk, watch a movie, have a nap, read a book, but let your arm and neck and back rest. It's frustrating, I know, but it doesn't even come close to how frustrating being a slug is when your brain is working and still being creative.

Take care of your body, and let it last longer and do the things you want it to. It's the reason you can do the things you do. Don't abuse it.

Sometimes, it's awful

It's hard, you know. Doing all that I'm doing.

Currently, in my efforts to get established, I have a booth at least 3 cons a year, work on my comic between school assignments, improve my website, take commissions, and spend my very little and rare extra money on con supplies and such.

And it's tiring. And sometimes it feels like I'm going nowhere and I'll never get anywhere.

Like this recent con I did. It came out of the blue and was unplanned. This was the third con I've shown at, and my first two cons were at big locations and I made decent bank. But this con was dreadful in every way. Everything you can imagine would go wrong, went wrong. I forgot my prints the first day, so I only had my sketchbooks and Collide Chapter 1 prints. The con was tiny (I mean, super tiny) and we didn't even get 300 visitors in the entire show, I think. And to make it worse, I broke even exactly; it wasn't a financial gain at all. It was really rough and frustrating. I don't plan on going back to that con for a few years, to see if it improves or something.

But I think it's important to realize things aren't always going to be marvelously easy. Even if you get a publisher by sitting on the train and the guy next to you happens to work for Marvel or Oni Press, and he sees your work and BOOM, you're published. Even if that happens... you're going to feel like a failure sometimes.

And if you do cons on your own time and money, you know the deep penetrating terror that you will spend over a hundred dollars to get a booth, another hundred to make prints, and whatever extra you spend to advertise on your table, and you will utterly fail. You won't sell anything. You'll forget everything. Something, everything will happen.

So it was healthy for me, I think, to realize that even if I forget all my prints (that was the deepest fear for me), I'll still be okay.

Also!

If you do cons, have something you do on-site and make money off of. My friend, Megan, does on-site sketches and illustrations; I do tiny art cards of well known characters. If you have something you can do on the spot, you'll be able to make those extra dollars.

Anyway, that awful con is over, and I have a big BIG con in October. Alternative Press Expo. I'm terrified. Utterly. Terrified.