Sunday, September 17, 2006

After spending the night drawing and re-drawing the same shit over and over again I can't help but hear those words running through my head: I suck. I suck. I suck.

I know I don't really suck. There are batches that go smoothly and there are those, like this goddamn little batch right here, that make my life miserable for a spell. And it has nothing to do with the writing, the writing is spot on as always, it's me drawing myself into a corner or not plotting out space properly or a crappy sleep schedule or restlessness and wanderlust or who knows what the hell it is. It just is.

I'm sure there's so much more I can learn to make this job go easier, techniques that can keep me from being needlessly complex or whatever... But here's where I am right now. The harsh reality of the 'dream gig', the sucky bits and the struggle and the parts that make you want to throw heavy objects out of windows.

And sure, I Could Byrne it up, cut corners and backgrounds and character, suck the very life out of the script but I'm just a stickler for good storytelling I guess.

Christ I'm a cranky Pia this morning.

Off to bed.

1 comment:

David Lee said...

Almost every artist spends time thinking they suck. Norman Rockwell did. Geoff Darrow does. The ones who don't have doubts are either deluded or insufferable to be around.

But you knew that.