DJO's July Newsletter

Drawings, podcasts, and more!

Don’t Do What They Tell You

Me — I was that drawing kid. I

had my sketchpad and a pen with me, and the whole world around me got processed through my weirdo imagination — full of monsters, bulgy cartoon eyes, random wings on things — and spat back out onto page after page of doodles, sketches, elaborate kiddo masterpieces and many total disasters.

One thing random adults and even a few role models would always say to me: “Never ever stop drawing!” It was said like a warning, however friendly, and it always sounded like it came from some broken place inside of people, a wrong turn they were sure they must’ve taken back when, or the ghost of a near miss.

I’m so glad I didn’t listen to them.

In high school, I was already pretty much at the tail end of my drawing obsession, but I still loved art, so I was kind of a halfway art building kid, and I took a bunch of still life and figure drawing classes, plus one workshop that I’ll never forget called “Art & Idea.” The guy who ran it, Tom Evans, was one of those teachers who somehow manages to both meet you exactly where you’re at and also make you excited to level up so you can be somewhere close to eye to eye with him. I learned so much in that class, lessons I still carry with me about processing the world and living a creative life, but one of the things I remember most was the opening question, put to us on day 1 as the founding thesis of the whole class — How do we keep making art? It’s such a great question because we so often don’t (see those all those broken regretful voices above warning me never to stop drawing) and there are so so many answers, both to why we stop and how we keep going. And we discussed it a bunch of course, but mostly what I remember was the question itself, like an ongoing riddle. When asked right, and it was, it comes without judgement or shame, a notion of strategy not grief. It’s tactical. The opposite, in a way, of the hurried and basic Never give up advice.

Drawing gave way to music and then writing, and that’s not to mention the many lost and wandering periods in between. I love every step; each one, including and especially those lost ones, made me a better human and a better artist. One thing I didn’t do was keep drawing. It’s always been there, of course. A random moment of boredom in class would find me with a pen in hand and semi-empty page in front of me, and monsters would always ensue. But it was just a now and then thing.

More recently, writing prose became writing scripts, and somewhere in there, it became time to pick up my pen again, so I did. It feels so good, looking at that blank — well, now it’s an iPad screen, but still a page in its way. Feels like Han must’ve felt getting back on the Falcon again after all those years. Yes, shaky and a little dizzying, but most of all: Home.

Main thing is, I’m so glad I didn’t listen to the warnings not to stop drawing. I had to stop drawing to fully live my life, both as an artist and a person in the world. I try not to traffic in what-ifs because why bother, but I do know a few things about myself. There’s the discipline to push through the hard parts and get better at your craft, and then there’s sticking with something way past when you care about it anymore out of a false sense of obligation or loyalty. They can look similar, but they’re worlds apart. I know holding too tight to drawing back then would’ve made me hate it, and for what? Because Rando McGee wanted to live out his imagined missed opportunities through me? Hard pass.

How do we keep making art? First, by asking ourselves exactly that question, knowing the answer will not only change from person to person but depending on where we are in our lives. Like the definition of success, it’s a notion we have to return to again and again along the journey.

How do we keep making art? We break down the hierarchies of form, realizing that each individual iteration of our artistic self will strengthen all the others. Allowing the lessons of music to feed our writing and vice-versa, even seeing how the drudgery of our day jobs can be a gift to our creative worlds. Seeing the thread of story that stretches through them all.

How do we keep making art? We follow the path that can only be made by walking, the path of our own footprints, even when it looks a lot like walking away.

Speaking of Other Creative Outlets...

My wife

Brittany N Williams

and I have a podcast in the works! We’ll be talking all things writing, careers, performing and parenting. Subscribers will be the first to know when Inkbottle Podcast drops later this month!

The June opening of the DJO Shop went great—thanks to everyone who ordered. I’m signing as we speak so your orders will be at your doorstep soon. Last month I got to give a two hour workshop on the notion of crisis in narrative structure, and it was a great experience! I’ve missed teaching. If you’d be interested in learning from me, go ahead and drop a comment on this post with what kind of class you’d be interested in. Also check out these classes I already have online.

 The next story I have coming out is my part in the THR Stories of Light and Life which comes out September 16th. It’s never too early to pre-order, though, and you’ll want to pick this one up. #WheresBurry

That’s all for this month. Enjoy your summer and stay cool!

—D