So here it is day 2 and I actually barfed out another superhero. If I was a more inquisitive man i might question my need to draw men who are basically naked each day, or moreso, why do I find it easier than drawing anything else?
Who cares, I have decided that due to a shortage of morale of late I should actually write about some of the things that I can honestly be grateful about. The first one I thought I should write about is my good friend Jane.
If you set the Wayback machine to 2002, I had quit my prestigious job as a shift supervisor (middle management represent!) at Blockbuster and started working at a totally righteous coffee shop called "The bean scene." Despite the fact that the coffee shop was a cool job, I was starting to worry that my childhood dream of drawing comics wasn't going to pan out. (My plan to fight Nazis as an archaeologist hadn't panned out either and the prospect of going from a batting average of .500 to .250 was terrifying.) I was disillusioned and had little faith that I would ever work as an artist. Understanding that I needed to meet and greet the people that ran the world of comics, my dad had fronted the cash to send me to my very first comicbook convention and not just any con, the San Diego International Comicon... aka the mother of all cons. I was going to fly to California with my life on my back and plead my case to as many comicbook publishers as possible.
In the process of preparing though, like so many neurotic artists types, I started to think about what would happen if I failed. But unlike many artists, I wasn't worried about being critiqued, or being told that I wasn't "good." I had graduated from art school and I was no stranger to criticism. I had started to wonder if I could handle the idea that I wasn't ready to work as a professional. What if I traveled all that way, put so much on the line, and in the end all I came to learn was that I wasn't ready? That I wasn't close enough to see the light at the end of the tunnel?
The pressure of that idea was debilitating to say the least. I was getting older and it was taking all my strength to work enough to make ends meet and practice drawing. What if it wasn't enough? What if I had to work even harder just to make it to the bottom rung?
One night not long before I was going to head to the con I was relating this to the aforementioned Jane and I said that I didn't know if I could keep on going as artist if I didn't find some kind of work. I said that I didn't know what I would do if all my hard work didn't pay off. I didn't think that I could keep going, she said, "it is either that...or quit."
She had really shown me that it was that black and white, either keeping trying or give up. There was no room for anything in between. Either keep fighting until I get what I want or give up and move on.
So I went to the con and got my first pro job, working for AK Comics out of Egypt. It took a lot of hard work and will power to get that job. A convention is grueling for a tourist, and going to one for a seemingly endless unending string of heartbreaking job interviews is downright torture. If it wasn't for Jane I don't think I would have gone forth with my head screwed on straight. I don't think I would have had the confidence to walk into one of the biggest conventions in the world and sell myself to editors, artists and publishers alike. The gig I got with AK was the first step in a long line of jobs that has lead me to where I am today... and probably the turning point was a little bit of tough love from my good friend Jane.
So in thanks I have drawn Aquaman, possible the most efeminate looking superhero of all time. Props to Jane.
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