Sometimes, We Fail

And that’s healthy. As a creative I ask a lot of myself, regardless of the factors outside of my creative life and sometimes everything combined is too much. That happened in October, where I got 2/3 the way through my comic #GHOSTNETWORK before fizzling out because I was overburdened. Like I said at the beginning though, failure is good, because it’s an opportunity to learn from your mistakes and to revise for next time. I’m going to quickly go over some failures I’ve faced on this blog and some little lessons I’ve learned from them.

1. Ghost Network

As said above, I tried to make the pilot issue of a comic series last month for Inktober or Drawloween, or some other drawing challenge done during spooky month. I was working in batches, which was good, but was saving most of my work time for my days off, which was bad. Consistency and rhythm are important parts of any creative process, and not keeping mine led to strenuous working conditions, which made the project more stressful and less fun than it should have been. 

Another issue I reflect on often is the urge to share before we’re ready, chasing the dopamine of approval since everyone can access platforms in the age of social media. Because art feels more performative than ever in this landscape of constant engagement, I feel like my process has changed so that I’m less likely to “drop off,” but the habits that builds aren’t healthy for me or my process, so something there likely needs to change too. The burnout is real everywhere, so perhaps if I’m to keep doing all the things I love to do, I’ll need to renegotiate how I interact with the crafts/hobbies/art/distribution so that I don’t lose track of why I’m doing this.

Fortunately, I know this examination/correction process works because I’ve already done it elsewhere. I have been a player of Magic the Gathering since I was 12 and found an Ichorid in my locker on the first day of school. However, Magic has changed a lot since then, and while modern day Magic feels less and less like a place where I want to be, I work in the industry and have to remain aware and connected to it. I mourned the game I grew up with, took some time away, but eventually found a way that I could still appreciate what it had become and where it was in its life by choosing to play formats that either focused on what I loved about the game (pauper, premodern) or changed the game in ways that it became a completely different entity (dandan, cube, custommtg.)  

2. The Little Army Challenge - Dwarfs

After my second OWAC, I was still running off that high of finishing 2000 points of an army, and I decided to have myself an unofficial follow up/victory lap. I got a 1k army of dwarfs on the cheap, with the hopes of getting it all done before the holidays that year, so I could bounce from one OWAC to the other, but after two posts I fell absolutely flat. I hadn’t given myself any time to rest in between and I paid the price. Also, as it turned out, I wasn’t all that enthusiastic about what I was doing at the time. Sure it was a second army, but it had given me a great deal of grief already with the custom slayers, and as a friend pointed out later “you already have a slow army” (this was after the chaos gnomes using chaos dwarf rules.) It didn’t fit with my wants or needs and I tried to force it, and because there wasn’t anything outside of myself to hold me to it, there was no reason to finish the things. They’re in a box under my bits cabinet now, and although I’m unsure as to when I’ll revisit them, I’ll appreciate that they’re a reminder to prioritize projects that bring me joy and that have a reason to be beyond being.

3. Carnevale

I’m currently in the process of repainting my Carnevale miniatures, a project I’m doing in paint markers for the other blog I run for my LGS, but that’s a different story. At the end of the blog post, I make a big stink about not liking the miniatures for Carnevale (I’m sure its a skill issue, because the vibes are mostly right, but they don’t feel good in person,) and I yap about wanting to make my own. What you good folks never saw were the armatures I made for all of the minis I’d drawn up proposals for; the ones that could be used between Carnevale and also Burrows and Badgers. 

Now to be clear, I’d only ever played Carnevale as a demo game, and I was already $100 in on expanding my forces to play bigger games, and already I was jumping the gun and working towards this new sideways project with no one to enjoy it with, that was redundant to ways I was already working towards enjoying the thing. And to top it off, the work I was doing for the project would have tripled if I’d seen the thing all the way through, because at this point I’ve been trying to sculpt as if my figs were being cast, and also doing concept character work, and then designing the minis to fit in both games… Suffice to say it was too much, and you never heard about it again (I think,) but I wonder if the aspirational posting is too much for a little blog like S&D, and if the scope creep is something I can be more conscious of when I’m developing my ideas. I think its helpful to see all the ways that the scale of a project can be tweaked when you’re an interdisciplinary creative, but limiting yourself to one or two axises of growth or exploration at a time goes a long way in keeping an adventure manageable. This one reminds me of the 3D printing crowd who add a whole extra hobby to their plate in order to achieve their goals, who then become stretched too thin learning a tertiary craft to finish their initial goals. I could easily become that, so making sure my footing is firmly where I want and need it has to be top priority if I’m going to enjoy myself and accomplish my goals (in a timely fashion, should that matter.)

4. There is no four.

So what are some things we can take from the reflection? Well in handy listicle form, here’s what I think I’ve learned from taking a moment to think about the projects I failed at and why I’ve failed.

• Making to Post is not why I do this hobby/craft/art/career. I do these projects because the creative thing in me uses comics and miniatures and games as a conduit for art and communication and community.
• Consistency is important. Practicing every day is how you grow, and how you get things accomplished. Even if you’re batching, you’re still giving the project the time and love it needs to happen.
• Examining your relationship with a hobby is a helpful way to reassess what it means to you, what ways you want to have it in your life, and what energy you’re willing to devote to it.
• Make sure you’re doing projects that bring you joy. If it doesn’t bring you joy, does it at least have a purpose? If it’s no to both, or even just one, maybe this project isn’t for you.
• It’s helpful to examine the scope creep a project could have, but its your duty to make sure that it doesn’t exceed your tolerance threshold. Just because you can engage in all the ways doesn’t mean you have to. You have limits, and your projects should too, else they might never get finished.

There’s probably more in there, but here’s something I’ve learned that I’m already getting better at embracing: perfect is the enemy of done, and sometimes it’s about the negative space. If you draw your own conclusions from this little yap, I’d love to hear them in the comments. Until then, I’ll see you when I see you. Take Care, and Happy Honda-days!