Naked Frenchmen and the Dark Cloud
Like most things, it started with a naked Frenchman and the promise of armageddon.
Or, to be less dramatic, it started with the latest episode of The Leftovers. I've written about my ever increasing love for the show on Twitter for a few weeks now after gorging myself on Season 1 & 2, devouring and analyzing it in a manner I haven't since Hannibal fell from our screens.
In the wake of the latest episode, Damon Lindelof did a lengthy interview (spoilers for the latest season abound at that link) with critic Matt Zoller Seitz. They talk about process, grief, and loss but most appropriately here they also talk about how we tell ourselves stories as a way of coping.
Zeitz tells the story of an impending conversation he had with an ex where both knew a breakup was coming. On the way, they both come across a fork in the road. As a metaphor, it's on the nose. But as Zeitz also points out dreams are on the nose, and life is too.
The conversation goes further when Lindelof mentions that the fork only has meaning because of context which he argues is essentially religion writ large. Which got me thinking...
Religion? A story we tell ourselves to make sense of our place in the world and the wider universe. Grief ? A story we tell ourselves and work through to cope with loss. Looking in the mirror and telling ourselves we're just tired and everything will be okay tomorrow and we're definitely not depressed? You get the idea.
Over the last year and a bit, I've been writing up one page scripts and posting them online. I told myself it was to keep the writing muscles warm as I took on more editorial work, to get over my tremendous perfectionism that is always a hair's breadth from becoming infinite tinkering. But, if I'm honest, it was to keep some skin in the game, to keep myself from drowning.
I got diagnosed with depression last year after about a long bout of denial. I think I've mentioned it once online in an interview I did when Go Home came out, maybe once in passing on Facebook when a friend needed support.
It's hard to articulate what depression does to you when you're a creative person. Jimmie Robinson's post about it is probably the one that hits closest to home:
Worst of all you sometimes catch echoes of it in the murk. You can't be happy or grateful it's there at all because you're frustrated things aren't the way they used to be. You're talking with ghosts.
Jimmie talks in his post about planning a creative career *around* his depression, fully accepting it will stay with him and it's better to learn to cope and manage than it is to subscribe to the idea he'll ever banish that phantom. I'm not sure I'm quite there yet, or even that I have it quite as bad as Jimmie. I came off my meds around Christmas and I've felt significantly better since then, to which I am extremely thankful.
The one-page scripts have been invaluable in keeping me from atrophy. They, and those who surround me, have been my clarion call. My girlfriend has the patience of a saint, tells me I'm way too hard on myself and is a source of infinite encouragement. Creators like Ryan K Lindsay, Chris Lewis, Magnus Asplii, Lee Robson and others have all entrusted me in one way or another with their creative visions and through their own passion, they have reinvigorated my own. I can't thank them enough.
Now, every morning, I tell myself the same story - I can get better and there is no shame in seeking help.
Whether it's the ones we tell ourselves, the ones we surround ourselves with, or the ones we're itching to tell, stories save and give order to chaos.
Just. Keep. Writing.
///
A quick work update - an anthology I'm editing is starting to come together quite nicely. I've really enjoyed working with all of the different writers ensuring there's a consistent tone but also allowing the individuality of each story/voice to come through.
I also have a story in the anthology and I'm lucky enough to have Alfie Gallagher drawing it. I received the pencils over the weekend and I'm blown away with how much character and texture he imbues each panel with. He's really made it come alive. There's one panel in particular that incorporates SFX really well that I'm dying to share. I implore you all to check out Alfie's work.
///
No links this week, I'm afraid. I've not come across a huge amount of long form reads over the last two weeks. Most of what I'm reading is about the daily horror show that is Western politics and I don't think anyone wants that injected into their feed a second time around.
Have a trailer for The Big Sick instead and know that it all ends happily.
Hopefully next time around I'll have something a bit more positive for you all!
Until then...
Or, to be less dramatic, it started with the latest episode of The Leftovers. I've written about my ever increasing love for the show on Twitter for a few weeks now after gorging myself on Season 1 & 2, devouring and analyzing it in a manner I haven't since Hannibal fell from our screens.
In the wake of the latest episode, Damon Lindelof did a lengthy interview (spoilers for the latest season abound at that link) with critic Matt Zoller Seitz. They talk about process, grief, and loss but most appropriately here they also talk about how we tell ourselves stories as a way of coping.
Zeitz tells the story of an impending conversation he had with an ex where both knew a breakup was coming. On the way, they both come across a fork in the road. As a metaphor, it's on the nose. But as Zeitz also points out dreams are on the nose, and life is too.
The conversation goes further when Lindelof mentions that the fork only has meaning because of context which he argues is essentially religion writ large. Which got me thinking...
Religion? A story we tell ourselves to make sense of our place in the world and the wider universe. Grief ? A story we tell ourselves and work through to cope with loss. Looking in the mirror and telling ourselves we're just tired and everything will be okay tomorrow and we're definitely not depressed? You get the idea.
Over the last year and a bit, I've been writing up one page scripts and posting them online. I told myself it was to keep the writing muscles warm as I took on more editorial work, to get over my tremendous perfectionism that is always a hair's breadth from becoming infinite tinkering. But, if I'm honest, it was to keep some skin in the game, to keep myself from drowning.
I got diagnosed with depression last year after about a long bout of denial. I think I've mentioned it once online in an interview I did when Go Home came out, maybe once in passing on Facebook when a friend needed support.
It's hard to articulate what depression does to you when you're a creative person. Jimmie Robinson's post about it is probably the one that hits closest to home:
It's frustration, heartbreak, and confusion wrapped in a bow. You feel like the same person. The whole thing seems to have snuck up on you somehow. You *had* passion, you remember it vividly and now it feels like an alien concept."But a major depressive episode is more like a knockout blow. It will stop me dead in my tracks. I will lose empathy, compassion, emotion, vitality, and self-worth. These are some of the fundamentals for working in comics. It’s not just the talent because that varies with every creator, it’s the passion. A person can draw stick figures and still make a success if they have passion in their work."
Worst of all you sometimes catch echoes of it in the murk. You can't be happy or grateful it's there at all because you're frustrated things aren't the way they used to be. You're talking with ghosts.
Jimmie talks in his post about planning a creative career *around* his depression, fully accepting it will stay with him and it's better to learn to cope and manage than it is to subscribe to the idea he'll ever banish that phantom. I'm not sure I'm quite there yet, or even that I have it quite as bad as Jimmie. I came off my meds around Christmas and I've felt significantly better since then, to which I am extremely thankful.
The one-page scripts have been invaluable in keeping me from atrophy. They, and those who surround me, have been my clarion call. My girlfriend has the patience of a saint, tells me I'm way too hard on myself and is a source of infinite encouragement. Creators like Ryan K Lindsay, Chris Lewis, Magnus Asplii, Lee Robson and others have all entrusted me in one way or another with their creative visions and through their own passion, they have reinvigorated my own. I can't thank them enough.
Now, every morning, I tell myself the same story - I can get better and there is no shame in seeking help.
Whether it's the ones we tell ourselves, the ones we surround ourselves with, or the ones we're itching to tell, stories save and give order to chaos.
Just. Keep. Writing.
///
A quick work update - an anthology I'm editing is starting to come together quite nicely. I've really enjoyed working with all of the different writers ensuring there's a consistent tone but also allowing the individuality of each story/voice to come through.
I also have a story in the anthology and I'm lucky enough to have Alfie Gallagher drawing it. I received the pencils over the weekend and I'm blown away with how much character and texture he imbues each panel with. He's really made it come alive. There's one panel in particular that incorporates SFX really well that I'm dying to share. I implore you all to check out Alfie's work.
///
No links this week, I'm afraid. I've not come across a huge amount of long form reads over the last two weeks. Most of what I'm reading is about the daily horror show that is Western politics and I don't think anyone wants that injected into their feed a second time around.
Have a trailer for The Big Sick instead and know that it all ends happily.
Hopefully next time around I'll have something a bit more positive for you all!
Until then...
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