A public place is a portal...

I took a break from my big non-fiction project over the last week or so. Seems like I've needed to take a step back from it. In the meantime, I've been revisiting some unfinished stories and new ideas. I think the time has been good, but I ought to get back to the big one.

So, the big non-fiction project is a series of essays and tangents that all relate back to the public parks in my hometown. When I started working on it, I didn't expect it to be any longer than maybe 15 pages (typed, double-spaced, one-inch margins). I had a whole bunch of ideas about what it might be, but I didn't think it would really be something that I would invest a lot of time working on. But, while researching the parks, I've discovered that these public places give me access to moments in time that I normally wouldn't reflect upon - moments of my own history, and that of my community. Some of those moments are nice. Some of them are dark, and difficult to write about. The places act like a prism, filtering the components that form a culture, and culture is complicated.

So, back to it...

Learning by doing

Project Waldo (Image by Nate Simpson)

Last fall, my roommate Hermann (who has since returned to Iceland, boooo!) sent me a link to a blog called Project Waldo, by a fellow named Nate Simpson. Nate quit his job back in January of 2009, and planned to create a storyboard for the film he'd been dreaming of making for ten years. But few months into the project, he scrapped the film and decided to create a comic book instead.

The blog has documented his progress as he has learned "how to make a comic by making a comic," and I think it's fascinating. I've often heard people say that they don't want to read work on making art - writing, making music, etc. - unless the artist is famous, or has attained some kind of recognition for their work. I think that what those people usually mean is that they don't want to hear pronouncements on how art ought to be made, unless it comes from someone they respect. But there are other ways to write about, and talk about, the process of creation, and I like to hear what it's like for other people who, like me, know that they don't have the answers, but can share their failures and successes as they try to figure out how to make their art live up to their dreams.

That's what I hope this blog will eventually be - a document of things that I've tried, strategies that worked, and snapshots of those occasions when I've fallen flat on my face.

Tally-ho!