D: / :D (or, Motivation Two Ways)

Somewhere around 2004 I joined a teen writers’ group in Ojai run by my now-friend Deb Norton. The rules of the group were simple: those who arrived on time got a bowl of sugary cereal of their choosing, and if we hit our self-determined goals from session to session we’d get a visit to the Prize Box.

The Prize Box, as far as I recall, was just…a cardboard box. But it was full of candy, novelty Japanese erasers, custom mix CDs, and Pilot Varsity fountain pens. Goofy shit. But it worked.

As I mentioned in my last Seacritters update post, I’ve been thinking a lot about motivation in this last quarter of the book. For many years I managed my freelance schedule by drawing these little “WHERE’S THE MONEY, BELLWOOD?” diagrams in my sketchbook.

Two diagrams of Lucy looking nervous with the words "Where's the money, Bellwood?" around her head.

They amused me, and helped me track down money when it was due. But there’s something telling in the facial expressions I always chose. Juggling this many jobs was draining. In my heart of hearts, I wanted to be moving from a place of joy rather than reacting in fear. Even now, when my workload is less scattered and my financial situation less precarious, I still find myself reacting more to the threat of the stick than the promise of the carrot. How do I orient toward joy?

I’ve struggled with setting (and actually implementing) rewards. When I made a NO Punchcard at a moment when I was trying to be more protective of my time, I successfully filled out all the squares, but totally stalled out when it was time to pick a prize. The accomplishment was (kind of) its own reward. Or I just couldn’t think of anything to celebrate with.

A punch card full of the word no with a star in the corner labelled prize.

Celebration is a crucial part of motivation! It helps my animal brain acknowledge that I’ve overcome an obstacle, accomplished a goal, or moved in the direction of my values. WHY IS IT SO HARD TO THINK OF REWARDS?

This seems obvious, but I only recently thought of making myself a slightly different mind map in the ol’ sketchbook.

A diagram of Lucy looking excited that says "What's the prize, Bellwood?" She's surrounded by suggested reward activities like going to the zoo or getting ice cream.

Okay, so some of these feel a bit too close to “satisfying chores” rather than “decadent indulgences” (that handlebar tape is REALLY GROSS, THO), and picking a prize also means grappling with the ways we’re pressured to use consumption as a reward. BUT IT’S A STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION.

Having a closing party for the 100 Demon Dialogues Kickstarter was such a lovely and life-affirming thing. We crammed a bunch of people into the patio of a Portland bar and had a joint countdown for the final few seconds of the campaign. I’m pretty sure I live-streamed it on Kickstarter. There was cake. There were balloons. When I think about the memory of that night in my body, I feel joy.

Lucy with a joyous crowd at her Kickstarter wrap party

The Prize Box worked because it was full of good pens and rad mix CDs, but it was also something that existed within a community. My peers would cheer when I got to visit the box. I think that was actually more important than any novelty eraser. So in the interest of involving my community a bit more in choosing a reward, I’m putting this to a vote over on Patreon.

WHAT SHOULD I REWARD MYSELF WITH WHEN I FINISH PENCILING THE BOOK?

“I draw the path to walk”

A page from Laura Knetzger's comic with lush black and white forests. The text reads "My friends don't come so often when I call anymore. It's my fault. They're children, and I asked them to earn me money instead of just playing."

Still thinking about this short comic on creative practice by Laura Knetzger.

Last night I sat in a cloud of campfire smoke with a friend, talking non-stop about the balancing act of creative practice. He’s a printmaker and a bookbinder, two disciplines that require a great deal of precision and craft. We agreed that we want to encourage everyone to make art, to make music, to dance, to be unrepentantly bad at things, to understand that there is art we make because we are dedicated to a craft and art we make because it’s an expression of our innate human desire to play. How it isn’t contradictory to preach the necessity of both. Sometimes I do feel like a hypocrite, cheerleading people who believe they “can’t draw” while internally upbraiding my own ability to put pictures in boxes. But these things are not exclusive.

Lately I’ve needed the energy of 2010-era Alec Longstreth, delivering this lecture at The Center for Cartoon Studies. Alec—who had, at the time, sworn not to shave or cut his hair until he finished his graphic novel, Basewood—was a human lightning bolt. He embodied that spirit of craft and professionalism, but with a punky, DIY energy that made it all feel both radical and attainable. I was so fired up after hearing him give this talk that I actually pulled all-nighters (something I was loath to do even at the tender age of 19).

A page from Alec Longstreth's zine Your Comics Will Love You Back all about setting reasonable timelines for your work by tracking progress and number of pages finished over time.

This image of his encapsulates everything I’ve come to rely on in the process of drawing Seacritters. I’m not perfect—I still occasionally underestimate the time things will take and fall prey to distraction and despair—but I’m committed to this idea.

That summer at CCS I found myself surrounded by 36 other people who wanted to take making comics seriously. I had never been in a room with people who shared that dream. It’s hard to remember what that was like now, having worked in studios full of creative professionals and lived in cities lousy with cartoonists and traveled all over the world to huge conventions and tiny festivals crammed with passionate people hawking zines and graphic novels and minis. But it felt propulsive at the time, and right now I need the creative equivalent of jet fuel.

I need the reminder that there are other people out there touching the lightning bolt for the first time, and channeling sparks into the page.

Friday Listening: A Happy Go Lucky Podcast

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I had the immense pleasure of returning to the Happy Go Lucky Podcast this week to talk about my time away in the Grand Canyon. Our theme was “Escape” which led to a lot of talk about how we can create space for making things in our day-to-day routine without running away to the woods. Or maybe you’ve gotta run away to the woods. Or Ireland. There are lots of options on the table.

Anyway, tune in here for an hour of titillating discussion about the creative process and, as always, boats.

Free Workshops Next Week! Creative Motivation and Kick-Ass Kickstarters

Come learn things from me! I am a PROFESSIONAL.

As promised, here are the details for the two free workshops I’ll be teaching next week at Reed College. These puppies are open to the public and will involve SNACKS. Do I have your attention yet? Good!

First up is Freelance Badassery 101: Maintaining Enthusiasm in the Face of the Unknown (Monday, January 21st, 5pm-7pm). This is a long and fancy-sounding name for a very simple class. The goal is to help you figure out what you love doing, then empower you to do it more and do it better. It’s a class for anyone wishing to light a creative fire under their ass. It’s gonna have some nitty-gritty info about contracts and taxes and invoices and other business things that might be useful to a freelancer, but what comes first is the Work. And that’s what we’re going to tackle head-on. BYO creative self-doubt demons. They’ll be begging for mercy by the time we’re done. Facebook event with directions and other info is here!

The second workshop is Kickstarter Bootcamp: Harnessing the Herd to Make Your Creative Dreams Come True (Wednesday, January 23rd, 5pm-7pm). This will be a hands-on, practical info workshop for those wishing to fund their creative endeavors. The first hour will cover Kickstarter basics, then we’ll critique specific projects. If you have something brewing that you’d like feedback or advice on, bring it in! I’ll be spilling all the dark secrets I learned while riding out the True Believer Kickstarter (730% funded?! How is that even POSSIBLE?!) and incorporating lessons from other successful projects in the Portland area. Facebook event with directions and other info is here!

Both workshops will take place in the Gray Campus Center at Reed College (3203 SE Woodstock Blvd.). The GCC sits in the central Quad and also houses the College’s dining hall. Parking is available in the North Lot (enter on SE Steele and SE 33rd) or the East Lot (enter on SE Woodstock and SE 36th). The workshop will be held in the Campus Center conference rooms, GCC B, GCC C, and GCC D. Most anyone should be able to steer you towards them, if campus maps prove unhelpful.

If you have any specific questions, feel free to email me at lucypcbellwood(at)gmail(dot)com!

Hope to see some of you there.