A Whole Lot of Nothing...

Another Tuesday’s bashed its way into my life. And a sunny day at that. Where is the snow? Where is the bleak? Where’s the weekend? Whatever.

So… the update. Um. Not much to report.

Basically, I’m still slogging through stuff for the MoCCA Fest thing while trying desperately to get to my book projects. Turns out that I’m not much of a merch savvy artist. Of course, I knew that going into this, but I figured that with my genius and ingenuity, I would rally and make some awesome stuff. And that stuff that I’m working on is awesome; but it’s going too slow, taking too long and keeping me from spending time/effort on things of greater importance.

Stumped about the whole thing, I tossed an idea to Mandy and she said I should run with it: use some of the many drawings in my files as the design stuff for bookmarks, postcards, etc. Why make new images when I have, quite literally, hundreds of unused ideas just sitting there doing nothing, not unlike Congress these days? Consequently, we sat down and opened folder after folder, pulling various drawings (as seen above) to be scanned and turned into something “marketable”. It’s a project that will require time and rethinking, as far as how to take images made for this or that and turn them into something new, but that’s still far less annoying as trying to make new work.

Hopefully, by the next time I rant, I’ll be well on my way to never thinking about this stuff again. I know, it’s such a simple notion, using drawings that already exist, how did I not think of it before? Ugh, if I could understand any of the nonsense swirling in my brain…

The new goal is to focus on the bright side of this latest realization, that I am back to the book work. Considering that making books is the only thing I do extremely well, it’s about damn time.

So, the book front:

The Punk Ethic is inching toward existing. In a little more than two months, it will be out there. Why, then even you will be able to buy and read it. How weird is that? After you read it, I expect feedback… don’t leave me hanging.

The Salem Witch book continues to get no love from the publishing world. This isn’t surprising. It’s not an easy story and Jamie and I are not about to dumb things down. I respect the intellect of children far too much to make something that isn’t going to completely light up their peanut-sized brains and universe-sized imaginations. But we’re not giving up. It will find a home or get retooled… then find a home. I’m that confident.

Meanwhile, I’m plowing ahead with my mysterious graphic novel-ish project that I’ve been hinting about for the last year. I have all the paper that I’ll need, which is fantastic. I have a new design, the fourth if you’re keeping track, which seems to be both manageable and interesting. The new goal is this: knock out ten or so finished pages and see if I can get any interest in the book from a publisher (which would be fantastic as well) but if I can’t, I’ll start posting it as a serial graphic novel online as I originally intended. If all goes according to schedule, I’ll have my sample pages out the door by the end of February.

And because I’m a picture book maker, I need a picture book project on my desk or I start to go slightly mad. Right now, that project is all about the very first performance of Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring. I know, it’s not a typical subject for a children’s book but when has anything I’ve touched been even close to being called “typical”. Anyway, it’s a project near and dear to my heart and that of my nephew, Tom, who I’ve roped into writing the text. Given our constant obsession with all things music (well… not contemporary Christian {or any contemporary religious music now that I think about}), we’re completely jazzed to make this odd moment in history come alive and are eye-ball deep in research rapture. Turns out Stravinsky was a weird dude. Shocker.

I guess the only other thing to note is to acknowledge the death of painting for me. Yeah, it’s just not happening. I’m pretty bummed about it. However, I grew so despondent about not being a painter that I bought a whole bunch of tiny notebooks and started writing a novel. I figure that if I’m not going to paint, despite having the time, materials and ideas to do so, that I should write something new. And, as you might have expected, the new story just started pouring onto the page, almost without effort. Apparently, I’m a writer, not a painter. Of course, you already knew that. But I’d forgotten. Again, if I could understand any of the nonsense swirling in my brain…