We were planning to go overseas to teach English, a real life interface very similar to what I do, today, but with regular classes, on the island of Sri Lanka. You can't replace some of the wonderful parts of an interaction, in-person. But things fell through for funding our tickets to go. Then we spent our savings trying not to be a burden to our family while visiting. We recorded a new demo, never scraping together the money to finish our product before the studio owner/ manager died. We played live gigs. We began some friendships. Our path was discovered. We were invited to be the subject of a movie about, basiclaly, not giving up on Art. (They shot a lot of footage, but...they seem to have given up on it.)
I took an invitation to join a band after putting it off for months, knowing I was already busy. We paid for a new demo. I drove 37 miles to practice, round-trip, picking up the band leader and his equipment, for a few months. We'd work out how much studio time that was worth. I even wrote a couple of songs and learned some bass. Well, that whole deal went south 'cause in the end, Brandon Barnes will do you however he wants and call what you've done, nothing. Who knows when he started Reckoning to rip me off.
I did start to learn to paint, though I should start over, basically. For a minute, I thought I might be able to sell some pieces as fund raisers. They made nice presents for the family, though, like this one Mother's Day creation featuring my mother-in-law's late child, Joy.That one brought grown men to tears. So don't take this as a complaint that this path never paid anything of value. I just wanted to share what's it like when you are on the underside of success, how much you value every single good thing that comes of it when it's so modest.
OH! WE made a large part of a video about Making Comics. We were trying to draw the adventures of Danger Bot at that time, one of my creations. I felt a little out of my depth, that time. Sometiems you are the one who pushes the idea aside. I couldn't get the hang of Manga. Maybe one day.
If we have been trying to make headway in the arts for so long, why not?
I don't know if what I'm saying here tells why. I prefer to look at the bright spots and expand from there. That's the more enlightened way. If I didn't do that, I sure as heck would've hung it all up out of bitterness long since. Whatever you get just has to be enough. First the recession crushed what we could do with limited funds and experience. Then we moved back here, where you have to cater to the style people want. MOre to the point, they already grew up with all the local musicians they will ever want, really. Once you get to an age where your peers are usually home raising kidw (or grandkids!), you can only hope to find new peers.
Oh, but you know what I often do that cheers me up? I promote other artists. Indie musicians, authors, creators of many stripes- people without massive media machines, but talent.
I did a lot of art commissions that never paid. People ask for things, then just ghost you, and any mention of ever paying you.
You pretty much have to secure the money upfront, or half- even if you have a professional reputation. If you don't, I don't know what to say. You will probably be drawing for people for free. (We did get to draw and write a small comic book - it didn't pay much. OH, we began learning coloring to do that, too. Super Pimp! Then, we discovered the format in which we'd colored it on GIMP wouldn't convert to printable files. DAmn!!! But it was meant to be a present for a guy who said he didn't like it, then broke up with his fiancee, who had commissioned it.)
And hey! I enjoyed the ones I did for free. The ones that paid were a cool challenge, and I'm proud to discover them framed and hung in people's homes. That's the beauty of such a thing.
My friend of three decades, TJ- for whom I began this blog in 2009- wanted to make a book about opiod addiction with me, so we could present alternative treatment options and how far along they are in the U.S. and the world, too, I suppose. He pitched me the idea in 2012 at latest- a very relevant one. It's only become more important. But his migraines worsened, and Dr. Jones- without whom I didn't have the great knowledge and first-hand experience- passed away in September, 2015. That was the hardest turn any of these projects took for sure. But he would say 'keep going at what you love!' and point out, it's because life can be so brief and uncertain that we should keep winging it!
I put my book on sale, got it into the local shops as well. I did a book signing that drew no one at all.
But we got played on the radio. We drew for people at a street fair each month. We started an interactive website with a friend, wrote much of a sprawling "Choose Your Own Pathway" type horror adventure inspired by our family getting back some of its lost younger members. Its creative process even became part of our movie, along with footage of us playing gigs, mostly as guests.
My friend gave up on coding the site, and it degraded before we ever made money off it or finished many of its storylines.
Ciara's Haunting became The Air Is Haunting, became then a ghost itself. It succeeded as a birthday gift, in its early phase, for our niece. I think she may have actually played it some.
Did I mention I wrote a pilot for a cartoon? The creator liked it so much, he offered me a pitch to IDW Publishing for revision, a little something he'd verbally pitched off-the-cuff to the right person. Many revisions later-a much more painful process than that sounds, but anyway- including an entire issue of art that went in the trash, and a few full issue scrips and a five issue plot twice over on my part, I was told we were too late, new deal would have to be re-negotiated with new management, and he couldn't really afford the time, anyway, due to poor health. Did I mention I was called up to do an emergency scripting bit on a special for the Pulse Night Club victims in Orlando? Our page never saw print. No explanation. My friends returned the book to the comics shop for a refund. But the hope, the creativity, kept me believing. Kept me dreaming. Gave me something to do besides experience Existential Angst. I invented some characters for later use, too, in the novel I'd been working on when I was offered the chance to create Ciara's Haunting.
So, it's not that I haven't jumped in there and gave it the old college try. You only have control over your part. Many phases of excitement. Many phases of disappointment. Most of the people sincerely glad for you when a break begins to evolve never know or notice when it falls apart. I completely see why artists don't communicate these things until they are basically finished, unless they are fund-raising. Me? I share because of Fun Raising.
Somewhere in between...
Much, much later than I anticipated, we both finally got hired. But the things I excel at were the things I was asked to put aside- for that job. Before that, I was sitting in a podunk town, with no interested employers. Meanwhile, a friend finally discovered my plight and helped me get on with V3 Magazine. A non-paid gig offering me Dragon Con passes opened the road to interviewing comics creators. I wrote for them awhile, the upload stopped working, and I got sick Dragon Con weekend (but did complete my first try at our IDW first issue pitch). I even snagged a couple of comics journalism assignments- that paid, albeit, next year-which inspired me to start a podcast and talk to some cool classic writers, artists, and fans. https://creatingmarvels.podbean.com/ https://creatingmarvels.podbean.com/ Meanwhile, I wrote a couple dozen songs in just over a year, mostly in 2017. I recorded them best I could on Audacity, but they're quite lo-fi- not ready to go out there as prospective music in movies, etc. I mean, I wish they would be fine in this form, but I kinda doubt it. Recording at some type of industry standard is pretty much expected because it's much closer at hand for today's artist. (It's the money that's the problem: ASCAP secured about $1170 for Peter Frampton for 5 million streaming listens to "Baby I Love Your WAy.")
My Pro Tools software has still never been restored to a useable replacement memory stick by the company that took $300 of our money for a program that requires you run Windows 8. So much for Pro Tools as the Industry Standard. It doesn't make me an Avid fan. That reminds me, I need to hunt down that email chain and shake that tree for fruit again.
Candella at Waffle House gave me a shot based on a first impression, alone. I was back waiting tables, I had no idea what kind of psychologically disturbed individuals I'd be sharing my job with. Imagine, if you don't flirt and acted interested, you piss some people off. I thought it worked the other way, and a gentleman should keep from creating awkward and suggestive situations. I honestly wondered if one woman wasn't the victim of mood-shifting head traumas. I loved giving great service and re-established my ability to open a rapport with people in a small space, entertaining them sometimes but staying on point. There's a loooong tell-all essay from my few months there, but....not today. Not here. I was working more than my agreed-upon hours by the last four weeks, sick as a dog with walking pnuemonia, and funny business was going on with the register/ till. To say nothing of other jaw-dropping lunacy. Very colorful time, though. But I over-extended myself, ran out of patience for bullshit, and earned less than minimum wage by my last week. But by then, I'd approached an online ESL company, on the advice of this fellow Mike who always came in with Trump slogans on his shirts that didn't othewise suggest violence or rebellion. I served his coffee just the way he liked. He asked me one day if I'd considered teaching. He'd seen some old coach of his at a ball game last fall, and remembered how much he loved and looked up to that guy. Mike, and my friend Ed, who said "why aren't you teaching creative writing?" both opened my eyes. One eye, each, I guess.
Five long years' delay. Still not overseas, yet...here I am, the first of us hopefully soon both doing what we set out to do, albeit in a different way. I think the ambitions and delightful dreams that career was meant to support are probably much closer still than I dare say. Some friends have fallen more apart. Some, they always cycle between self-destruction and enlightenment, but want to pass off reality like Truth is just up for grabs, blah blah not buying it. They may not want to look closely at what they really did and said, but who's got time to drink that poison and let's wish one another well.
Some are on target to take life long ambitions to the next level. Bravo! You must really love progress.
So yeah. I guess some people might think we smile like nothing's ever come too hard. I am not even diving into the crazy attempted relationships that ended up more wasted than vital. But, to these and many other dreams. comes a time. Maybe this time, it's the best job yet. Maybe this time will lead to a genuine position in the publishing field, perhaps editing some of the third-party courseware that occasionally drives me batty with its short comings. Maybe the next set of friends will stick, for a while. Once youre old enough to have kids, if not grand kids, people who share in your level of becoming who aren't tied into the thick of raising said family are damn rare. Maybe we'll join a new spiritual order and continue coming into our own after years of an almost-too-informal eclectic path. Maybe this is the career path tha twil open up finanical and schedule opportunities in our new home land, and we'll finally connect with overwhelming support, make music, shows, cartoons, found a language institute. You come back around to gratitude for everyone and everything you had, daily, because you never know when they'll all become part of the past. Some of my dearest supporters are no longer physically with us (I mean they died). But where did their love and encouragement and lessons go, really?
Life's a blink in Eternity's Eye. What seems a dreary and long period of chrysalis is revealed to increase empathy, and every day, had its joys: because the being within was always a butterfly. If you feel like that's you, the bright colors you were always meant to hae, the flowers you were alwasy meant to visit, all will be unveiled by Time.
Keep winging it.
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