Things have been done

Hark, my pretties. There are new posts on Patreon and Substack.

Down the road with the old cowboy

The Patreon graphic narrative remains a satisfying free-play, although drawing sessions are shorter now than a few months ago. I lose myself until the eyes say, “quit,” at which I quit. To me, the character of the resulting drawings shifts as the approach changes with visual constraints. It will be interesting to learn if others see something similar in the unfolding series.

The sequence has progressed to a point at which I think several drawings ahead. Some of these end up in parallel universes. The direction goes where it goes when I pick up a pencil. Easily half the fun.

Vintage and new-minted text

Stories for an Imaginary Child, the content on Substack, continues as it began, with encore posts from an extinguished website. Story #4 went live a few days ago. Two, possibly three, more from the archive are in queue for clean-up edits. I have a first draft of a new piece and an outline of another to join the band when their priorities rise. There are so many other stories I could tell.

When I launched the Substack, it was with the idea of keeping it forever free. Free as in gratis. After all, its initial purpose was to recycle reminiscences, the undertaking of a garrulous senior citizen without opportunities to repeat himself in person. A commodity impossible to monetize, right? To my surprise, some readers have used Substack’s pledge feature to commit to paid subscriptions should I opt to enable them.

Opt or not opt? Is the output steady enough and consistent enough to justify a paid tier? The entire Stikmantica team — me, myself and I — examines the issue.

Confessing the nagging la-la maybe

Also on the table is a possible second Substack. I cannot bring myself to abandon the uncompleted ambitions of Habdvarsha. The mother book, Sleeper Awakes, especially, won’t let go. Set aside in a dark hour, now that discouragement has grown familiar and lost its edge, the story started so long ago tugs at my sleeve. I made significant progress on an “author’s edition” before the hiatus. Almost a third of the book has been rewritten.

What if I abandoned my typical, perfectionist control-freak approach that polishes everything to the brass, and serialize the text as I go along? I could make a final pass on the whole should I live long enough to see it through. Meanwhile, I could live some more in the universe hatched over so many years.

Serious reservations stand in the way. Even my boldest pace is plodding by industrial standards. I already have ongoing projects barking for time, including my first book in Spanish. Experience argues that the audience for Habdvarsha is vanishingly small. I am an archetype of Lazy. Rather than work with disciplined focus, I fiddle with this, fiddle with that, fiddle with something altogether different, forget calendar and clock for stretches, stare into space, daydream, take naps, and eventually produce shareable things born without spec or deadline. But even play has a carry limit.

In favor, the book is something I would like to say to the world. Having its ear may not matter as much as seeding the ether. I ponder.

Competing are drawings for the Stikmanz Patreon, encores for Substack, a book on origami cranes in Spanish, other drawings, and small side projects. There are physical issues compounded by age. Real limits claim their due, no question. To ignore them is mad, but to push them? That has the ring of living.

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