Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Busy, so Bullets

  • I don't know why I draw comics; it's such an inefficient use of my time. Oh, a gag! I'll think. I should make a comic about it! This will occur in the span of about five minutes: inspiration, idea, formulation. The process of writing, boarding, penciling, scanning, shopping, assembling, and polishing a comic page can take ten to twenty hours, and by then the joke never seems as funny as it did. Then a dozen people spend a minute looking at it, punch a new URL into their browser, and forget about it after four or five clicks.

    I am a masochist.

    I'm gonna be updating the comics page on a regular basis for a few months, and wanted to kick things off with something special. The next time I decide to do anything special, somebody needs to deliver a mild corrective shock to my genitals. This has become way more involved than it needs or deserves to be, and I'll be relieved if I can wrap it up by this time next week.

  • Source of anxiety: the looming possibility that budget cuts will cost me my position and my room at this place. I'm blanching at the prospect of throwing myself at the mercy of the job and housing markets all at once, but it might be unavoidable. Philadelphia isn't that expensive a place to live -- but finding a job that can pay for rent/utilities/food without exhausting me and destroying my will to write/draw/live likely won't be easy.

    Just for kicks, I opened up Craigslist Philadelphia and browsed their Writing/Editing section. It's always laugh: 30% or so full-time copywriting/editing gigs at pharmaceutical companies (requirements: three years' full-time experience in a copywriting/editing gig at a pharmaceutical company) and 70% hey write blog posts for my web startup for free, please.

    What a lousy time to be a writer. Today you're simply expected to be cool with just giving your work away in exchange for "experience" and "exposure" --  airy pseudo-currencies which might maybe perhaps possibly someday help keep a roof over your head, but until then remain worthless. And evidently a lot of writers think this is a fair trade. After all, if there was a shortage of people willing to sell their labor for nothing, you might see people raising their asking price.

    When you sell yourself short, it's not only your own value that depreciates.

    (No, The Zeroes isn't selling enough copies to pay my bills. Thanks for asking. Also, stop fucking asking. It's not funny.)

  • Greater source of anxiety: what happens when I slow down?

    When will I slow down?

    I slowing down?

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