“If you’re carrying all the feathers you can carry, can you carry one more?”
A few weeks ago, I had a wake-up call–I had to say no to a project.
It was an art project, and usually I can knock out art projects no problem. This one sounded really fun–draw pages for a graphic novel. It used the Disney style, which isn’t too difficult to learn. I started practicing.
As my art inched from “suckitude” toward “maybe passable”, the art director informed me that I would have to draw three pages a day.
Three pages a day doesn’t sound like much–especially since each page has a maximum of four panels. That should be easy.
Then I tried it, and timed myself.
Sketching, inking, and basic coloring took me two solid hours. For one crappy little comic gag. Possibly one panel.
I have five small children, one of whom is five months old, and gets tired of sitting in my lap at the computer. While I could scrape two hours out of the day for one page, I don’t have six hours for three pages. The currency just doesn’t exist. And I’m pretty darn good at time management.
It was with massive amounts of regret and humiliation that I had to back out of the project. Back when I was single and lonely, I could have knocked a project like this out of the park. But today? I’ve got too many feathers to carry. This would have been like dropping a brick into my armload of feathers.
Being mortal is such a hassle. What do you MEAN I have limited mental resources, and only 12 hours in the day? That is so not fair. Sleep is for the weak, right?
As it turns out, my life right now isn’t as permeable as it used to be. Lesson learned. Sigh.
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