I’ve been listening to the audiobook of Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic as I walk to work and potter around the house. She writes beautifully about ideas as sentient things that visit humans and deliver inspiration. In her view, it is up to us as the human vessels of ideas to make a pact with inspiration and commit to following through an idea to its finished product.

The idea, sensing your openness, will start to do its work on you. It will send the universal physical and emotional signals of inspiration (the chills up the arms, the hair standing up on the back of the neck, the nervous stomach, the buzzy thoughts, that feeling of falling into love or obsession). The idea will organise coincidences and portents to tumble across your path, to keep your interest keen. You will start to notice all sorts of signs pointing you towards the idea. Everything you see and touch and do will remind you of the idea. The idea will wake you up in the middle of the night and distract you from your everyday routine. The idea will not leave you alone until it has your fullest attention.

Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic (this excerpt can be read here)

So I followed an idea. I’ve had this premise of a story in my head for a while: a magic boarding school opens its doors to a non-human creature for a trial period, to see if it could accept more non-human students. A goblin applies, gets into the school, and has to hide the fact that he has no magical ability whatsoever and that he lied on his application.

I love this idea, and I thought it would work as a graphic novel or comic strip. I drew out my characters, brainstormed plot points, and decided to write and illustrate the first few pages as a test run.

It took a few days. First, I sketched out what I wanted, then drafted the script on a notepad, typed it up, and thumbnailed a more developed layout. Then I drew it up, outlined everything with ink, added in the text, scanned it into my computer to add colour and I just … wasn’t feeling it. There was no spark there.

I love this character and looking at these pages now, a few days later, I do feel a little better about the project than I did when I was drawing it. But maybe it’s the wrong time. Maybe if I return to it in a few months or years, the spark will be there.

Maybe I’m not cut out for making a graphic novel. All the comics I’ve made in the past have been episodic, delightfully inconsistent, and not at all outlined. Maybe I’m better suited to a comic strip than a full narrative comic.

Whatever the case, I’m putting this on hold for now. I’ve learnt over the last few years that pushing through a project that isn’t quite working is like striking at a dud match. Every few months, I become convinced I’ve found the right plot to fit the soft, sweet sapphic vampire romance I want to write and every time I spend weeks or months plodding through a story that is simply not working. One day, when I finally find the right story for my vampire, it’ll be magic. I will feel all the things Gilbert says I will, all the things I’ve felt with other stories and projects.

For now, I’ve got other things to work on, things I’m excited to make. And some of the work that’s gone into this comic can be recycled into those stories. It’s all just an experiment, leading to the next project. Plus, now I know how to draw goblins.