As in, OMG CW went to bed before two AM tired. (that's early. For me)

But I just want to point out how long I've been planning this story line, and why just LOOKING at this page makes me feel anticipation and just plain happy:

July of 05.

Oh, I've had something kinda-sorta-maybe like this planned since February 10th, 04 (the day that I posted my first few pages of Blue Skunk. I took them down and relaunched after about a month, so the first page is officially 01-04-04) and the characters cemented themselves into their roles by the relaunch (Rowan Grace existed in his current form since well before feb 10th) but this storyline, in it's entirety, was already half-written in July of 05. In fact, Rowan's first scripted apperance was going to be in chapter two. It got bumpped because there wasn't much room for him.

I've been waiting three years to get to here. Three. Years. And the story I really want to tell doesn't even begin until this chapter is over with.

Which brings me to the rant of the day.

Another webcomic ended at the beginning of this week. I won't say which one, because I didn't really like it that much. I didn't dislike it either. The art was pretty and it was fairly well-written, but the story...not bad enough to make it stop, but DAMN I would have done it a bit differently...but that's not what I wanted to talk about (*hits internal critic over the head and shoves her back in the box)

The writer wrote this big, long rant about how dissapointed he was with how his story ended (...and if you don't understand how it's possible for a writer to be dissapointed with a story they wrote, you're not a writer. I swear there are times I want to smack Lucy upside the head and replace her with someone a little saner) and what struck me was how he seemed to have expectations with how his story was going to make him feel when it was over. How, while he was working on it, it meant so much to him, but now that he's done with it...it's nothing to him, and how his real life sucks because now that his comic is over, he doesn't even have that to distract him. His comic (according to him) is worthless because he isn't satisfied with it, he doesn't expect to keep his art skills up, and he doesn't even remember making it.

Ah...yeah. It's called "post partum depression". And mothers get that after they're finally done giving birth.

I haven't finished a webcomic, or even a novel, in my life (BTW I call "finish a novel" "finish the last draft of a novel") but over the last six months or so I've begun treating art as a career and not a hobby. Part of the reason why I'm having difficulty meeting my update deadlines is I'm also trying to build my portfolio at the same time, and webcomic art and real art are two different species of beasts. It takes me about two to three weeks to finish something like that, and that's living with it EVERY SINGLE DAY. And having finished about five of these beasts (for those of you waiting for it--all one of you, I think, "Fire" is ALMOST done, either tonight or tomorrow night) I think I can say one thing with certanty.

I am NEVER satisfied with my art. In fact, I have a print of one of my pictures on my wall ("Ready"). It is my personal favorite out of all the work's I've done. I bought it the night after I finished it and uploaded it to DeviantArt's prints service. In the heady post-art daze I had, I thought it'd be nice to have my BEST WORK EVER!!!!1! (tm!!!) hanging on the wall. Instead, I almost never look at it. Because after it got here, I was well into the Cooling Off stage of art. Getting the print and being able to look at the full picture without my computer monitor getting in the way recharged the Art Daze for a little while, but when it was nice and framed and had been there a couple of days, I couldn't stand to look at it anymore. All I could see was what was wrong with it. Her hair wasn't right, her leg sure as hell wasn't right, her sword was unrealisticaly shiny, and I could see brush-strokes on the tree and in the snow. And the snow was wrong. Sure, it was my BEST WORK EVER!!!1!1!...but after the Art Daze cooled off...it really wasn't that good. And then I went through Post-Partum Depression with my art. I hated it. I didn't even want to look at it. Every time I pass that wall (and god help me, it's right next to my front door, right across the room from where I'm sitting now) I ducked my eyes and pretended like there was a nice, yellow wall there. Visitors come over and if my mother's here, she says "Tell them about your picture" and starts boasting on me, and inside I just want to curl up and die because it's not THAT good.

The GOOD part about Post-Partum Depression--at least, with art. I don't know about kids--is eventually, that goes away too. And now I can see the good bits of "Ready" As well as the bad ones. Her hands, for example, are PERFECT, as is her face. Her hair. I love her hair. The texture of her armor. The way I accidentally-on-purpose created two lines of motion with the composision. It's not perfect, and when I call it "beautiful" there's that little part of me that argues it's not, but it's mine, I did it, there are bits to be proud of and I like it.

Right now, I'm in deep PPDArt with the latest finished piece: "Water" is driving me crazy. And I'm trying very, very hard not to reopen it and redo the girl's skin-tone (and I think I'll do it this weekend, when I'm done with "Fire" You can kill me if you want to--and you KNOW I'm talking to you. You sure do--but "Fire" looks sooooo good, and I can SEE what I need to fix on Water.) And I have the same thing with the murels I did for my church. Everyone says they're fantastic, but to be honest...I'm glad they're not in an area I'm going to visit every week, because I don't really like them anymore. There are too many things I'd change to be satisfied.

I fully expect that, when I FINALLY get to write "the end" for the final time, and I put my stylus down, when Blue Skunk is done (and god help me, that won't be ANYTIME soon), I will have about a two-day peroid of satisfaction. It's done. I stuck with it. I finished Lucy (and company)'s story. I've locked it down forever.

And then it'll start. The "I could have done betters". The "That wasn't done right" the "Who the hell thought up that plot twist". And I promise, I swear, not one week will go by before I wish I'd NEVER done that stupid comic, that I must be a freaking idiot to call myself an artist when I suck that badly (...did I mention that I feel that way? EVERY SINGLE TIME? In fact, two days ago the "who the hell are you to call yourself an artist" feeling hit so strong that I was basically locked up for a day and a half. I felt physically ill from looking at anything I'd even approched creatively. It took the webcomic deadline to get me to pick up my pen again)

In the end, here's what I expect to feel when I'm done with Blue Skunk.

-Satisfaction.

-DISsatisfaction.

-Pride

-Shame

-Gratitude.

...and that last one will be the most important. Because no matter how horrid those early pages look, no matter how bad the latest pages look in four days, and no matter how bad the future pages will look...Blue Skunk has done one amazing, wonderful, powerful thing in my life that I never, ever, ever thought REMOTELY possible before I did this comic...something that literally changed my life:

It taught me that I could be an artist.

...and that's that.

- Chelsea Gaither