It was a year.
Filled with the terror and apprehension you wouldn’t normally find anywhere aside from mid-nineties slasher films, 2020 took a lot from us all as many of us sat at home, consuming news and sound bytes at an obscene rate.
But true to form, as in real life, you might knock me down a few times, get a few good hits in, but keep it up and I will start swinging back. And I did. I got tired of cowering, I got my sole-proprietorship incorporated, and I funded my first Kickstarter on the first try. Emboldened by the feeling of success, I plowed ahead with a handful of new plans and projects, I commissioned artists to help me bring my material to light, to help me feed the hype machine and keep up my momentum.
I fizzled.
Perhaps I was naive.
Tragedies struck some very good people I claim to care for and still I soldiered on, promoting my brand, advertising dreams that may never see the light of day.
I am currently working on a novel, on the ever-expanding universe of The Waybetween, and trying my best to generate buzz for the comic book I’d really like to see make it to funding once I get the cover art back for it, but it feels futile and selfish and short-sighted. I’m not sure what to do, or what I should do. I feel like, somehow, I’ve let a lot of people down, or that I’ve come across as without heart, without value, and without, well, whatever it is, a je ne sais quoi, that catches the eye and holds its attention. I feel failed, stopped dead in the face of the immovable object that is an uncaring universe that refuses to budge an inch, and worse doesn’t even seem to notice I’m pushing it.
More than one project I started turned into a failure, certain things I wanted to show the world got lost in the dark, and I hope some of the people I was working with are okay. It seems now I may never know. Some things have been delayed but are still coming. But more than one project I was working on became a success, and it’s important to remember your successes.
Sometimes you get pushed against the wall and you fight back, you feel like a rabid wolverine, filled with fury and passion and a raging, fervent need to live, to survive. Sometimes you’re breaking your very human, very fragile, bleeding nails scratching at a black wall, not even leaving a mark.
It’s not easy, making something from nothing.
It’s lonely.
And after the ever-ostracizing void of a year we all just went through, the estrangement for some must truly feel like a dark that you might never escape from. But if you’re still up for searching, I’ll still be out here, somewhere in The Waybetween, weaving The Spider’s web to Void knows what end, shining a light and hoping we’ve not all hopelessly lost one another.
Let’s see each other in the New Year, shall we?
The Waybetween 