The wheels have stopped.

I know things run in cycles. I know sometimes your drive and desire to work disappear. It's demoralizing and sucks away your energy and your ability to enjoy other pursuits. And after weeks of not being able to work, things turn around again and all of a sudden you're at the drawing table, cranking out beauty like no one's business. But what if that stage never kicks back in? What if your cycle runs more like four days on, three months off?

Please indulge me this for a moment. (I'm disabling comments for this entry because I know my friends would send me well-wishes and words of encouragement, and I just want to wallow today.)

Every morning I get up and sit at my computer, drinking coffee and looking guiltily at my drawing table, where my fucking NEVERENDING WORK IN PROGRESS sits, abandoned. I've sat at the table, looking over the pile of half-finished pages that never changes, wanting to pick up my brush and have at it. And yet that moment doesn't arrive. I've filled the water glass, sharpened the pencils, bought enticing fresh brushes. And there I sit. I flip through the thumbnails, and nothing. I see some pages with only one small background to fill in. I cannot. Four pages completed months ago sit in my "to grayscale" box, and I do not fire up the tablet and get going. It's as though all of my love and determination to complete this book have leaked out of a tiny hole in my heart over the last year, leaving me surprisingly empty and without even the self-discipline to sit and power through. And I hate myself for this. I question whether I can still call myself a cartoonist when I am no longer able to perform the task that defines me as such. If this were just a short or even not-so-short setback, I could see beyond it and look forward to the turning of the cycle again, to the future when the art flows and the progress is visible. But this seems now to be the normal state of things. It's kicking my ass. I can't see the end. I am overwhelmed.

This is the largest reason why I can't face going to any more comics shows. I see my friends post their projects online - daily comics, jam comics, beautiful watercolors, journal sketches. Every single one has told me they go through periods of blockage, or disinspiration. And yet there is still something coming out of them, some art-force that leaks out from one direction or another, creating despite the circumstances. I can't take pleasure or strength from it. I can't look at the big picture anymore. My sketchbooks sit empty, my tools wait in their perfect store-bought condition. I regret starting anything because the onus of never finishing is a heavy and painful reminder of my failure. I can almost feel the minutes ticking away as I waste my days doing nothing. This is time I cannot get back - I'm pulling over now, to the shoulder, and letting you all pass by and disappear around the bend. I need to hibernate to escape my utter and profound disappointment in myself.

***DISCLAIMER. I feel SO much better after wallowing for an afternoon and letting it all sink in, then drain away. I don't have the innate nature to give up; I just need to let myself THINK I am every now and then. Let's hope things go better overall, but wow, I really needed to get that out of me. Later!