My friend Gwen, a very talented game designer, came over to co-work this week. I asked Gwen if she wanted to cancel, given the election and the vibes of dread. She said sitting around the house by herself wouldn’t help, so she came over. Part of me wanted her to say exactly that. Another part of me wanted her to cancel, so I could spend the afternoon with a blanket over my head. It was much nicer hanging out with a friend than doing the blanket thing.
We talked about game projects we’re working on. I mentioned a card game prototype I’d been noodling with the past few weeks. A competitive storytelling game, where players tell the story together, but compete for whose character gets their happy ending. Played with trading cards you already own. She said that was unique. I’m excited about the game. I signed up to playtest it next weekend at IndieCade. I’m considering entering it into Zine Quest next year. I want to tweak the rules some more. I have a big idea for the “scene” mechanic.
And yet, no. The thought of working on the card game right now… it just feels impossible. I want to, I just… can’t. It feels like I’m asking myself to lift a 400 lbs boulder above my head. Last week, I was juggling boulders. I was Fred Flintstone taking up a new midlife hobby. Gwen spent our co-working time adding drag-and-drop functionality to her puzzle game. I didn’t add any functionality to my game. I feel dragged and dropped.
I’m still being creative for work, but it’s different when money’s involved. The survival instinct kicks in. Work is taking everything out of me this week. When I write, my fingers hurt. When I do mocap performance stuff, I get tired and out-of-breath. It’s all so exhausting. I’m trying to reach a big milestone deadline and what I need is sleep. This week, I’m getting terrible nights of sleep. My current secret weapon for sleep are these gummies with melatonin in them. They usually get the job done. They are not getting the job done. I stay awake playing out the worst case scenarios in my head, then I wake up too early and read articles about the doom and gloom that awaits us next year. And for years to come.
This might read like a pity party. And it is! Poor me, everybody!!! Tomorrow’s WaPo headline: “2024 Election Fallout: Narrative Designer Experiences Devastating Off-Week.”
No, I’m not looking for sympathy. I’m just being honest. This is how I feel. That’s the whole point of this newsletter: to examine and encourage my creative practice. Part of my process for self-examination is honestly reflecting on when and why I don’t feel creative. The reason that comes to mind: a feeling of irrelevance. In a world of unrelenting cruelty, making art feels insignificant. Like, why am I folding origami cranes in the middle of this hurricane? Who am I helping?
This isn’t shock. I knew this was a distinct possibility. The cancer in our country was never eliminated. It has continued to spread throughout the body. It’s been in the system since inception, but it’s metastasizing so quickly and obviously. Even if the election went better, the cancer would still be there. I wasn’t hoping for a cure, just another four more years of remission. No such luck. Wow, I went long on this cancer metaphor. Clearly, I’m in a great mood!
I’m fully aware my low period will end, if my past is any indicator. After waves of exhaustion, bitterness, and self-deprecation pass, I’ll channel my anger and intellect into my art. It’ll spew out of me as jokes, metaphors, and subtext for an interactive adventure. The art will feel therapeutic, helping me cope with the sadness. Maybe the art will connect with others, helping them process their own feelings and see the world differently. My productivity will return, driving me to continue volunteering. This will help me feel like I do more for the world than clown around, though I’m not knocking clowns. If all the clowns went away, who would frighten and murder our children?
But that’s future me. Adjusted me. Focused me. Invigorated me. I’m not him yet. I am current me, and current me feels like shit. I don’t feel creative. I don’t feel smart. I feel sad and tired.
Eventually, I’ll lift the boulders again, but I won’t force it. Not until I have my strength back.
🎲 Your Turn: How’re you holding up? Better than me? Worse? If you’re up for it, reply to this email or comment with the orange button below. 🫂
📨 Next Week: I have good news about Fix Your Mother’s Printer, which I’ll share next week. Something to look forward to?! Wahooooooo, lol!
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