The lucifer flowers attract humminbirds. Oh man oh man. Cute little fluttering hovering hummingbirds! So buying them based only on the fact that Lucifer is my current favorite comic book panned out exceptionally well. Makes me want to plant a whole garden for my favorite comics. Chamomile for Dream (the Daniel Dream. Morpheus gets something sinister like poppies), and star jasmine for Jack Knight. Dead nettles for Death or Dead Girl, a little water garden for Swamp Thing, Batman can have the black lillies I think he’d like that and larkspur to attract Robins.
Yesterday we were designing the front flower beds. I think I need to dedicate a small patch to comics. I just won’t tell Erik why I planted nightshade so close to the jasmine.
Nothing like finding out you’re 40k words short of the target audience to incite some serious productivity depression. Ah well. I knew it needed something anyway. Turns out it needs about 40k somethings. Or I need to single-handedly bring back the novella as an art form.
That will never happen. So instead, to gear myself up to work on this poor neglected novel I’ve barely touched in a year, I’m drawing a comic! Yes, that seems counterproductive. But it’s about the character’s early days, as a fun little warm up to ease back into the story. And a way to muss up that beautiful clean bristol board with an absurd amount of ocd detail on a house that can’t possibly exist in this world.
That’s one thing I’ve found after looking at house listings for a year. I’ve become almost decent at drawing houses. Even impossible ones.
Mr. Peepers doesn’t like my new project. He was laying on top of my paper, which was okay because it’s a huge paper and I was working at the other end, but when he got up to find his mouse toy he leaned over and smacked my pen while it was still on the page. Damn cat.
But anyway, I’m hoping that this burst of creativity will help me through my slump. I’ve noticed in the past that creation provokes ideas, and ideas fuel my writing. Depression and slumps only fuel lethargy. And lethargy don’t pay the bills.
Neither does my writing, but it does keep me sane. And it’s far less expensive than seeing a psychologist.