My original plan was to do
something to help combat the disturbing problem of lack of representation in
children’s books. I wanted to write, illustrate and publish a children’s book
featuring people of color and other underrepresented minorities. Taking on this
project was as much about proving to the world the market and social value of
these types of narratives as it was about proving to my myself that I was
capable of undertaking such a project.
Those of you who know me, know that I can be all over the
place. My mind races, I speak at a hundred miles and hour, and when it comes to
projects I like, I tend to dive headfirst into them. With my writing I get
particularly intense. I throw myself into my work and I just delete and start
over and delete and start over until it’s good enough (which for me it never
is.). As a result in the past I’ve been late on deadlines for projects,
completely started over on term papers mere days before their due, and pretty
much put myself through hell every time I get a writing assignment. Writing for
me therefore, is treading on the fine
line between catharsis and catastrophe.
When you’re an artist, you see yourself in every filament
of your work. You fall in love and then in loathing with your work as you
admire what you made and then think of how you can make it better. The cycle
can continue forever and when I have to stop, when the deadline’s grace period
has passed or when your presentation is due next period, for me their isn’t a
rush of relief as I turn it in or stand in front of the class. It’s more like a
hollow feeling; I’m mourning, for the beauty that could’ve been.
This project has been an experiment in me letting go.
After I’ve done the best I can in the time that I have, and after I’ve tried
and tried. This project has forced me to let go again and again. Can’t copy
that painting you saw online after trying for four hours? It’s okay, let it go, you did your best. Text won’t show up on a page after you reformatted over and over? Its okay, let it go. Upset about having
to chop your story down? It’ll be fine.
Let it go. I’ve stopped obsessing with perfection (as much) and have grown
as an artist because of it.
This project has brought me physical pain (writer’s
cramp, my hand still twitches occasionally), sleep deprivation, struggle,
hardship, heartache, and tedium but now that I’m on the other side I’m happier
because of it. I proved to myself that I could start something and finish it
without burning myself out trying to make it immaculate.
When you’re an artist, you’re giving pieces of yourself
away, palms up, eyes down. Write a story, it’s not that simple. Draw a picture,
it’s not that simple. When you create something that is valuable to you, giving
it away when it’s not exactly right
can be almost painful. This project was my attempt to lessen that pain for
myself, I called my book Rough Draft for a reason. I’ve worked hard and now I’m
giving my creation to the world, hands shaking. I’m resisting the urge to snatch
back, to burn, to delete, to destroy and then rebuild. I am practicing becoming
more and more content with my work. This is all that I can give. And that’s
okay.
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