Post by Mastercougar on Oct 20, 2009 22:32:17 GMT -5
Hey, everyone. I'm sure you noticed the massive decline in comic-making this year from an already low output in the summer. I think I ought to adress that. As honestly as I can.
One problem is that there simply isn't enough time for everything I want to do. This is my senior year in high school. Even before the school year started, I was already busy trying to entangle the college application process in advance. Now that I'm back at school, in addition to the applications and essays, I've got seven classes, including advanced math, science, english, history, and high-caliber vocal music and acting, all of which I'm trying to keep on top of. I've been rehearsing a play, and will be rehearsing another. I'm trying to win scholarships. I've been trying to get to know and hang out with my classmates. I'm in National Honor Society. I've got senior projects up the wazoo.
I'm passionate about all these things. Unfortunately, that means my time for Reporterz has been nil.
I shouldn't be surprised. I've been doing this since middle school. I spend a lot of time on a lot of things during the school year, and every year, I think, "Okay, THIS year, I'll have it all in gear and make my school months as productive as my summers have been." It fails to happen, simply because I've got so much going on. And so I gnash my teeth and rail at the heavens and lament that I'm letting you guys down. Or that I'll never be a good webcartoonist or spritemaker if I'm unable to keep a blasted schedule.
After spending all that time beating myself up, I finally came to a realization. There's nothing wrong with working on other things than Reporterz at times. And I am enjoying my life, damnit. I've been having the most superb time being part of such fantastic theatre and choir programs, getting the best education I can, and working toward my collegiate goals. And it's ridiculous to say that I should make myself miserable because I'm not getting enough done for Reporterz. It's just not reasonable to beat myself up over it.
And when I do beat myself up over it, do you know what happens? I start hating my inability to make Reporterz go the way I want it to. Then I start hating the responsiblity I've put on myself. And it's a fine line between that...and hating Reporterz.
I've seen it happen to so many web artists. They start off making something because they enjoy it. Then they generate huge, awesome plans. And then they begin to hate the fact that they can't work on them all the time. And then they hate the onus of having to work on them. And then, they decide they're quitting. Something they were just making for fun, in complete innocence, becomes something they despise. How tragic is that?
I REFUSE TO LET THAT HAPPEN TO ME.
I will not let Reporterz become a burden. My revalation was that I can live a perfectly happy life at the rate of one or two comics a month. I know that may not work for you guys, but if I'm going to stay sane-- and stay in love with this wonderful comic strip-- I'm going to have to release myself from that burden.
I make comics when I feel like making them; that is, when I love making comics, I will make comics. When I don't, I won't. Anything else is secondary.
There's another issue I need to discuss. Let me return to the narrative of what I did this summer. As you may have heard at the time, I spent most of my vacation making an awesome, in-depth plan for Storyline Six, and recalibrating other upcoming storylines. That process went very well. I returned home with a plan I was elated to make use of, lit up with characters and epic images. I was PUMPED, man, for the upcoming storylines. I simply couldn't wait.
Why, then, did my sporadic updates sound so listless? Why did my posts seem automatic, lifeless, tired and frustrated?
Did I simply lose momentum? Well, it was more than that. My ideas were perfect, but I started running into difficulties bringing to life.
All the wonderful scenes, ideas, and dialogue refused to enter the panels. The dialogue swelled up, making the panels look crowded and dull. The ideas turned into infodumps. The scenes didn't show up quite right given my limited range of poses. In short, I got frustrated with my creations. More so than usual.
How could I ever hope to be regarded as an intelligent comic-maker? How would any other webcartoonists recognize the validity of my ideas and commitment to quality, if my ideas weren't as clear on the web as in my head and I couldn't always get the quality of my work to reveal that I actually gave a d**n?
Around this same time, I began attempting to study the masters. Abrams. Munroe. Morgan-Mar. Garrity. Tailsteak. Again, I gnashed my teeth, because I knew I wasn't able to express my ideas as clearly as them, nor tell stories as effectively. I even had a conversation with one of my favorite webcomic critics about what I was doing wrong, and where my greatest failures lay.
One thing quickly became clear: I am not one of the masters. Not even close. I've got miles to go before I reach that point, if ever.
And that was hard to hear, because I would love to be as respected and commended as those guys have been. I feel like I can reach and touch the border between my work and theirs, and every time I do, I wish I could break through.
My ideas, I think, are sound. But I haven't learned how to give them flight. And that's not something anyone can tell you. You learn it from experience. You learn it from making and changing and doing. You learn it from experimentation and risk and fear and desperation.
After watching the masters at work and listening to the critics, I feel like I've only served to muddy the waters. I'm filled with unanswered questions about my work. Should I change the panel structure? Use larger panels? A more dynamic layout? Should I change the font? What supplemental materials are really necessary? How much should I explain? Should I advertise? Where? What's good storytelling and what's bad storytelling for what I'm trying to do? Is the commentary useful? Would I be lost without it, or is it making things worse? And above all, how the hell can I present my work in a way that the great comic-makers will respect it and welcome me into their ranks when I'm making a d**n sprite comic?!?
This haunted me. I mean, seriously haunted me. What would it mean if I wasn't respected as a "real" comic-maker? How could they lump me into the festering pile of crap associated with bad grammar, bad pixelation, and those drive-by comicers who give up after the third strip? Was I really in that category?
I fell into something of a funk about this. That had an effect on my comic output, too. I worried that when I did say what I wanted to say, you guys wouldn't like it (it's going to be quite different than what's come before) and the intellectual-types I was so desperate to impress would have already given up on my work.
Then, I had a second revelation.
All of that is totally irrelevant.
You guys are the ones whom I'm making Reporterz for. Well, it's for you, and for myself. That's it.
If I put together some good work, and a comic expert takes a look at it and understands what I'm trying to do, even likes it, then that's great. Excellent to have a sign I'm on the right path.
But I can't live my life desperately waiting for a moment like that. Or expecting one. The point of creating Reporterz was not to impress Shaenon K. Garrity. The point was to tell the story that I wanted to tell. If I'm not enjoying the process because I'm too busy freaking out over what Eric Burns-White is going to think, then something is definitely wrong.
The time has come for me to end my obsession with Internet fame and success.
I make comics because I love making comics. I will make them in whatever way seems reasonable to me, and while I will listen to the input of others, I will make them for myself and for those who understand what my stories mean to me.
Honestly? The experiences that mean the most to me are the experiences with you guys. The thing that thrills me the most is opening up a window and finding that you've left me new posts to read, new speculation to chuckle at, or new insights to explore.
I used to be worried, like I said, that as Reporterz evolved and changed in tone, you guys would reject it. I'm not worried about that now. Maybe some of you will leave and some of you will stay. But others will come in and become part of the readerbase. If I give what I can to Reporterz, the readers I have will be the readers I need.
I know Reporterz isn't perfect. Believe me, I do. I still may change the font, or the site, or the size of each strip. I've already changed the layout slightly. But I am convinced that if I change things, it has to be bit by bit, in a slow, deeply personal process. Changes are great and all, but I can't get hung up on perfection. I can't stress out that not every page on the site is not exactly as I would want the culture comic-reader to find it. My obsession with Reporterz's flaws has only led to procrastination and depression. I refuse to let it stand in my way any longer.
From now on, the most important opinion when it comes to Reporterz has to be my own. There's no way around it.
Is it any good? I don't know. Does it suck? I have no idea. Am I doing enough with the time I have? I don't have the answer.
That's all I can say to answer those questions.
I know the difference what works, and what doesn't. I know what I want to do, and what's important to me. I know what I value. Using those criteria, I will do justice to Reporterz, my idea and dream.
Anything else is, and must be, secondary.
...That's what's been on my mind in during this long comic drought. I hope it provides some measure of explanation, and reveals what my comic-making philosophy will be from now on. I know it's a lot to take in and think about. I'm extremely interested in your thoughts and reactions, though, so post away.
I don't know what's next for my life, or for this strip, but I do know that for the first time in a long time, I'm excited about Reporterz again. Not just excited, in fact. Ravenously hungry for panels and words. I can't wait for you to see the next part of the story. And I can't wait to make it.
That can only be a good thing.
Yours, as always,
Mastercougar
One problem is that there simply isn't enough time for everything I want to do. This is my senior year in high school. Even before the school year started, I was already busy trying to entangle the college application process in advance. Now that I'm back at school, in addition to the applications and essays, I've got seven classes, including advanced math, science, english, history, and high-caliber vocal music and acting, all of which I'm trying to keep on top of. I've been rehearsing a play, and will be rehearsing another. I'm trying to win scholarships. I've been trying to get to know and hang out with my classmates. I'm in National Honor Society. I've got senior projects up the wazoo.
I'm passionate about all these things. Unfortunately, that means my time for Reporterz has been nil.
I shouldn't be surprised. I've been doing this since middle school. I spend a lot of time on a lot of things during the school year, and every year, I think, "Okay, THIS year, I'll have it all in gear and make my school months as productive as my summers have been." It fails to happen, simply because I've got so much going on. And so I gnash my teeth and rail at the heavens and lament that I'm letting you guys down. Or that I'll never be a good webcartoonist or spritemaker if I'm unable to keep a blasted schedule.
After spending all that time beating myself up, I finally came to a realization. There's nothing wrong with working on other things than Reporterz at times. And I am enjoying my life, damnit. I've been having the most superb time being part of such fantastic theatre and choir programs, getting the best education I can, and working toward my collegiate goals. And it's ridiculous to say that I should make myself miserable because I'm not getting enough done for Reporterz. It's just not reasonable to beat myself up over it.
And when I do beat myself up over it, do you know what happens? I start hating my inability to make Reporterz go the way I want it to. Then I start hating the responsiblity I've put on myself. And it's a fine line between that...and hating Reporterz.
I've seen it happen to so many web artists. They start off making something because they enjoy it. Then they generate huge, awesome plans. And then they begin to hate the fact that they can't work on them all the time. And then they hate the onus of having to work on them. And then, they decide they're quitting. Something they were just making for fun, in complete innocence, becomes something they despise. How tragic is that?
I REFUSE TO LET THAT HAPPEN TO ME.
I will not let Reporterz become a burden. My revalation was that I can live a perfectly happy life at the rate of one or two comics a month. I know that may not work for you guys, but if I'm going to stay sane-- and stay in love with this wonderful comic strip-- I'm going to have to release myself from that burden.
I make comics when I feel like making them; that is, when I love making comics, I will make comics. When I don't, I won't. Anything else is secondary.
There's another issue I need to discuss. Let me return to the narrative of what I did this summer. As you may have heard at the time, I spent most of my vacation making an awesome, in-depth plan for Storyline Six, and recalibrating other upcoming storylines. That process went very well. I returned home with a plan I was elated to make use of, lit up with characters and epic images. I was PUMPED, man, for the upcoming storylines. I simply couldn't wait.
Why, then, did my sporadic updates sound so listless? Why did my posts seem automatic, lifeless, tired and frustrated?
Did I simply lose momentum? Well, it was more than that. My ideas were perfect, but I started running into difficulties bringing to life.
All the wonderful scenes, ideas, and dialogue refused to enter the panels. The dialogue swelled up, making the panels look crowded and dull. The ideas turned into infodumps. The scenes didn't show up quite right given my limited range of poses. In short, I got frustrated with my creations. More so than usual.
How could I ever hope to be regarded as an intelligent comic-maker? How would any other webcartoonists recognize the validity of my ideas and commitment to quality, if my ideas weren't as clear on the web as in my head and I couldn't always get the quality of my work to reveal that I actually gave a d**n?
Around this same time, I began attempting to study the masters. Abrams. Munroe. Morgan-Mar. Garrity. Tailsteak. Again, I gnashed my teeth, because I knew I wasn't able to express my ideas as clearly as them, nor tell stories as effectively. I even had a conversation with one of my favorite webcomic critics about what I was doing wrong, and where my greatest failures lay.
One thing quickly became clear: I am not one of the masters. Not even close. I've got miles to go before I reach that point, if ever.
And that was hard to hear, because I would love to be as respected and commended as those guys have been. I feel like I can reach and touch the border between my work and theirs, and every time I do, I wish I could break through.
My ideas, I think, are sound. But I haven't learned how to give them flight. And that's not something anyone can tell you. You learn it from experience. You learn it from making and changing and doing. You learn it from experimentation and risk and fear and desperation.
After watching the masters at work and listening to the critics, I feel like I've only served to muddy the waters. I'm filled with unanswered questions about my work. Should I change the panel structure? Use larger panels? A more dynamic layout? Should I change the font? What supplemental materials are really necessary? How much should I explain? Should I advertise? Where? What's good storytelling and what's bad storytelling for what I'm trying to do? Is the commentary useful? Would I be lost without it, or is it making things worse? And above all, how the hell can I present my work in a way that the great comic-makers will respect it and welcome me into their ranks when I'm making a d**n sprite comic?!?
This haunted me. I mean, seriously haunted me. What would it mean if I wasn't respected as a "real" comic-maker? How could they lump me into the festering pile of crap associated with bad grammar, bad pixelation, and those drive-by comicers who give up after the third strip? Was I really in that category?
I fell into something of a funk about this. That had an effect on my comic output, too. I worried that when I did say what I wanted to say, you guys wouldn't like it (it's going to be quite different than what's come before) and the intellectual-types I was so desperate to impress would have already given up on my work.
Then, I had a second revelation.
All of that is totally irrelevant.
You guys are the ones whom I'm making Reporterz for. Well, it's for you, and for myself. That's it.
If I put together some good work, and a comic expert takes a look at it and understands what I'm trying to do, even likes it, then that's great. Excellent to have a sign I'm on the right path.
But I can't live my life desperately waiting for a moment like that. Or expecting one. The point of creating Reporterz was not to impress Shaenon K. Garrity. The point was to tell the story that I wanted to tell. If I'm not enjoying the process because I'm too busy freaking out over what Eric Burns-White is going to think, then something is definitely wrong.
The time has come for me to end my obsession with Internet fame and success.
I make comics because I love making comics. I will make them in whatever way seems reasonable to me, and while I will listen to the input of others, I will make them for myself and for those who understand what my stories mean to me.
Honestly? The experiences that mean the most to me are the experiences with you guys. The thing that thrills me the most is opening up a window and finding that you've left me new posts to read, new speculation to chuckle at, or new insights to explore.
I used to be worried, like I said, that as Reporterz evolved and changed in tone, you guys would reject it. I'm not worried about that now. Maybe some of you will leave and some of you will stay. But others will come in and become part of the readerbase. If I give what I can to Reporterz, the readers I have will be the readers I need.
I know Reporterz isn't perfect. Believe me, I do. I still may change the font, or the site, or the size of each strip. I've already changed the layout slightly. But I am convinced that if I change things, it has to be bit by bit, in a slow, deeply personal process. Changes are great and all, but I can't get hung up on perfection. I can't stress out that not every page on the site is not exactly as I would want the culture comic-reader to find it. My obsession with Reporterz's flaws has only led to procrastination and depression. I refuse to let it stand in my way any longer.
From now on, the most important opinion when it comes to Reporterz has to be my own. There's no way around it.
Is it any good? I don't know. Does it suck? I have no idea. Am I doing enough with the time I have? I don't have the answer.
That's all I can say to answer those questions.
I know the difference what works, and what doesn't. I know what I want to do, and what's important to me. I know what I value. Using those criteria, I will do justice to Reporterz, my idea and dream.
Anything else is, and must be, secondary.
...That's what's been on my mind in during this long comic drought. I hope it provides some measure of explanation, and reveals what my comic-making philosophy will be from now on. I know it's a lot to take in and think about. I'm extremely interested in your thoughts and reactions, though, so post away.
I don't know what's next for my life, or for this strip, but I do know that for the first time in a long time, I'm excited about Reporterz again. Not just excited, in fact. Ravenously hungry for panels and words. I can't wait for you to see the next part of the story. And I can't wait to make it.
That can only be a good thing.
Yours, as always,
Mastercougar