I wrote a post over on Medium about drawing, design, writing, and mistake-making, in no particular order. It begins like this:
I was supposed to be a writer. I was supposed to get out of school and work a desk job for a year or two so I could say I did the desk job thing once and then I was supposed to go back to school and publish a bunch of short stories that would effectively silence the debate over the existence of an imaginary line between “genre” and “literature” and then the novels and the interviews and then the money and the fame and the autographs and then the tragic death at the age of 104 and the long life after death down through all the following generations down through the words I’d left behind and the being the inspiration where once I’d been the inspired.
The circle of life.
I certainly wasn’t supposed to be a designer...
It's an interesting post in that it really did start out as a behind-the-scenes essay about my thinking behind The Reds, the graphic novel I started working on last year. (The graphic novel I have recently started trying to get my head back into this year when I finally released the one chapter I've completed.) (The graphic novel that, I suspect, is not exactly what a graphic novel is supposed to be.) But through one happy accident or another it became about something a little more complex and a bit more personal than that. Which, given the theme of mistake-making, is probably the only possible way that post could have gone.
Of course, I still need to come back to that original idea for a post, about my rationale and thinking behind that chapter. We'll see what that post becomes the next time I attempt to write it.