This strip was hard for me … partly because I was sick during much of its making (a stomach bug that wiped me out), but also because I’m getting into “the story.” I’m having a hard time getting my bearings with the narrative—shaping the experience so that it reads clearly, as well as compressing emotions and events. It’s not something that’s entirely comfortable, is it? But I suppose that’s one of the issues I’m taking on here. I didn’t compose that version of myself out of changing newsprint without reason. It’s strange … becoming text. Writing yourself into story but then letting that story take on a life of its own.
It’s funny, too: I don’t think of “her” as “me” once she’s on the page. In fact, I’m very aware of the things that I’m putting her through … and it gets to feel just a little sick and twisted. I feel a little like I’m punishing her for what I went through—making her go through a grief that is so concentrated and intense. I do want to be careful not to end every segment with her on the ground immobilized! Good storytelling is hard. Being honest with your experience plus good storytelling—very very very hard.
Sill, I am enjoying it all immensely (though I realized I prefer cutting to drawing!—at least this week I do …).