Yes, I still read comic strips. Not only that, but I also read blog posts from some comic strip creators (not the Dilbert guy, though…).
“Wayno” is the nom de plume for the guy who creates the weekday versions of Bizarro, a single panel strip created by Dan Piraro (who still does the Sunday version). Wayno just won the National Cartoonists Society award for Best Newspaper Panel. Here’s a recent example of his work:
A twist on the ol’ banana peel joke… with a tribute to music/pop art thrown in for good measure:
No wonder Wayno won!
But that’s not why we’re here today. We’re here because of Wayno’s blog. This recent post really hit home for me. It starts with a Captain Beefheart quote:
Art is rearranging and grouping mistakes.
Don Van Vlietaka Captain Beefheart
Don Van Vliet was eminently quotable, though much of what he said could be puzzling, as he had his own manner of forming thoughts and constructing sentences. The line we’re sharing here is straightforward and relatable. It’s also a valuable bit of advice.
My take is that experimentation and editing are required to produce art, and that it’s rarely created fully-formed. The most important step in creating any type of art is starting with something—a mark on a piece of paper or a couple of words, and building from there, keeping what works and setting aside what doesn’t. In fact, getting to a satisfying (if not great) work of art requires making countless mistakes.
It’s so true. And it echoes advice from other creators – Seth Godin’s “ship your work” and Steven Pressfield’s exhortation to fight “the resistance” by doing the work, and Anne LaMott’s concept of “sh*tty first drafts.”
If you want to make something great, start by making something. It might be awful… in fact it probably will be awful. But you’ll learn as you go – merrily screwing up along the way.
Trust the process – and mistakes are an integral part of the process.
Steven Pressfield is a great writer. And a fantastic motivator of other writers. That may seem strange to say about someone who has written a book called Nobody Wants to Read Your Sh*t. (Trust me, it’s great!)
His advice is geared toward writers/artists/creators, but this nugget from a recent blog post of his applies to people from all walks of life:
Unlearning. Losing the baggage. Shedding the expectations and labels that others put on us. It sounds so simple… but it’s super-tough, and it can take us years to even come close.
In the end, it’s YOUR voice. No one else’s. Dropping your baggage can free you up to find it.
I hate Alzheimer’s disease. But I love pie. And I love that someone is using the latter to fight the former. And someone else is shining a light on it.
Chris Joecken is someone I met when he was a student at Cincinnati State, and he was looking to break into the video/agency business. Great kid. Now he’s using his talents to tell powerful stories, and bring light and love into the world.
Beautiful. Simply beautiful. I know Helen makes fruit pies, but someone must be cutting onions in here. Those “ripples” are streaming down my cheeks right now.
Chris’ post is right on point. Thoreau said “the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation” but I think most of us have it within us to be more like Helen, and channel our energies toward lives of humble service. A pebble in the ocean, maybe… but enough to make a ripple.
What can we do with our sorrow? How can we be stewards of what we already possess? How can we transform our pain into something beneficial for others?
I set a goal to read 52 books this year – one a week. And I was crushing it. 18 weeks into the year, I’ve got 17 books under my belt.
But I’m bailing out on my books goal.
I’m taking a page from Kenny Roger’s book (ha!) and knowing when to fold ’em.
Why? Because it was an Arbitrary Stupid Goal (also the title of a great book by Tamara Shopsin).
But mainly because I’m a sprinter, not a marathoner. I’ve always preferred short stories (Ray Bradbury is my hero) and short, medium, and long articles.
I subscribe to The New Yorker, The Atlantic and Cincinnati Magazine. And those issues have been piling up in my “to read” stack. I also like reading the Sunday paper. I was basically trading reading timely content for reading timeless content. There’ll be time enough for the latter — to paraphrase Kenny Rogers — when the dealing’s done. And the guilt of not reading the magazines and papers was outweighing the joy I got from the books.
I’ll still read plenty this year – including more books. But reading should bring me joy, not baggage. And I’ve learned that it’s OK to walk away.
[This post is approved by the ghost of Kenny Rogers.]
There are many times I question the “wisdom” of crafting blog posts for a blog that few* people read.
*4-6 folks, roughly, although that staggering number drops precipitously if you subtract relatives.
Any objective observer would consider it a waste of time and money. I should just buy a journal and write in that. Same readership, without the hassle and expense of maintaining a web presence. (Believe it or not, I actually have to PAY for the highly coveted, much-sought-after domain name of “dubbatrubba.com.”)
But then I get a note like this from my friend and co-worker:
Wow! So one of my trivial posts on my silly little blog actually played a very tiny role in helping kickstart something that will bring more gratefulness and joy into the world? I’m flabbergasted! (And flabby too… probably from too much time sitting on my butt blogging.)
Here’s more about the event:
Grateful Gatherings are monthly conversations with purpose, designed by Grateful Living and hosted by people like Harmony co-president Susan Jackson who have completed their training program. Each month we’ll be exploring the transformative practice of grateful living, using the resources provided by Grateful Living. Our monthly topics will include things like: Say Yes to Joy, Welcome Imperfection, Navigate Grief, Reimagine Rest, Awaken to Awe, and Act with Courage.
Suddenly all those countless hours spent blogging seem worthwhile. Especially if we’re grading success on the Emerson scale:
Susan’s first Grateful Gathering will take place on Sunday, April 28, at 10 a.m. at Moonflower Coffee Collective in Sharonville. Damn right I’ll be there! Because I’m forever grateful that Susan read some silly little blog post in the first place.
This is just the incentive I needed to continue with my blog posts! It’s so much better than the usual feedback I receive, which falls into one of two categories:
On Saturday evening, instead of watching March Madness, I met up with some old friends for a happy hour that stretched into the wee hours.
Yesterday afternoon, instead of watching March Madness, I provided a bit of constructive (I hope) criticism and writing tips to students who had entered their short films into a college film festival. Yes, me, the man who thinks this is the pinnacle of American cinema:
Last night, instead of watching March Madness, I went to a poetry reading. Yes, me, the guy who struggles to understand anything more complex than The Family Circus comic strip.
(The ghosts haunt me…)
My choices were based in part on the fact that Xavier didn’t make the Big Dance this year. But all three events were certainly more nourishing for the soul than watching a gazillion AT&T commercials. Oh, and let’s not forget the countless minutes of “official review” so the refs can add a tenth of a second to the game clock. Scintillating!
The Saturday happy hour was with some friends from my ad agency days. The traditional ad agency model is in a state of disarray. Too much consolidation, not enough creative freedom. But the folks I met and worked with during my agency days remain some of the most creative folks I’ve ever known. Writers, designers, artists, muralists, musicians. Big Idea generators, every one of them. They bring more beauty into the world. Yes, some of it is in service of commerce, but that doesn’t diminish the beauty… if anything, it makes it more admirable.
The student film festival gave me hope that the next generation of our “creative class” will be just as creative. The tools may change, but the ability to tell a compelling story will always matter.
The poets were folks who went to Xavier in the late 60s/early 70s and bonded over their love of the written word. To be able to portray beauty and convey emotions with an economy of words is a rare talent. And one well worth celebrating.
(excerpt above is from the book Also a Poet by Ada Calhoun)
The rise of technology — especially AI — has some folks thinking that our souls will be superseded by machines. But I know better. Flesh and blood, and human connection, are what will help us not just survive, but thrive.
Damian on Connecting the Dots: “Thanks for reading, Doug! Not surprised that your media roots run deep.” Jul 3, 23:07
Douglas Balogh on Connecting the Dots: “6 degrees from KSD. They were my client when they were a Pulitzer station. Tell Alicia I was with Blair…” Jul 2, 22:40
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