Am I a Writer? Am I an Artist?

When being a bit of this and a bit of that makes you seem like not “enough” of anything. A “variety show” mentality.

(The above audio is a voiceover only. I will post the longer podcast Monday, so that it will be available in your podcast players as Episode 493 of the Creativity Matters Podcast.)

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to change you is the greatest accomplishment.” Ralph Waldo Emerson

Happy Sunday!

No letter this week.

There has been a raven trying to get my attention, and I am wondering what it means.

The other things¹ probably get in the way of you reading the main post.

There are a few polls below. Even if you don’t want to read the full post, I hope you’ll scroll to find them.

I’ve also included an update on my 100 Day Diary Comic Affirmations project.

Thank you for reading.

Amy

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A Writer or an Artist?

I was looking at a how-to book on cartooning for teens a week or so ago. It is one of dozens of books like this I’ve brought home through the years. Surveying what’s out there is part of what I’ve always done, and if I had an audience of people interested in book reviews, it would be what I still did.

Anyway, I was looking at a book for young comic book artists. It seems pretty good. It’s cleanly laid out and has a clear, accessible tone.

It starts out talking to a young wannabe comic artist and dividing things up. We are shown people doing these things and asked:

• Are you good with words?

• Do you like to draw?

There is an unwritten “or” between the two.

As the book explains, some people are writers, and some people are artists, and it is rare for someone to be both. It doesn’t say that it is impossible. It doesn’t say some people write, and some people draw, and never the ‘twain shall meet.²

The book notes that if you happen to have both skill sets, then that’s okay, but there is this subtle suggestion that most people are one or the other.

This is probably an either/or, the book suggests. Select one and follow the flow chart, a choose-your-own-adventure quest that begins with putting yourself in one box or another.

Are you a writer or are you an artist?

It stopped me in my tracks.

Most of us have a diverse range of interests. Many of us have skills that are sometimes viewed as polar opposites. Most of us enjoy many, many things. We might list many, many things in an introduction or a bio. But when it comes to labeling at a high level, are you this or are you that?³

When it comes to ticking off a box to say where my substack fits (so that people can find it and so that I’m shown in the context of similar types of substacks), what should I choose?

The question from the book really stuck with me.

As writers and artists, we often have discussions about the purpose of our work, what we offer, who our ideal reader or viewer is, and why we do what we do. These are important questions to think about. Being clear about these answers helps you define a roadmap, a course of action, a blueprint for your work.

I struggle with some of these questions, but taking a step back from that, there is an initial box to be checked. Choose one:

✅ Writer

✅ Artist

At times, I use podcaster. Others might use poet or knitter or coder or ceramicist or painter or teacher or historian or athlete. There are countless labels we can claim, and having diverse skills can be seen as a positive. When it comes to finding your place, it can also be a limiting factor.

Sometimes people want to be able to understand you as one thing.

Sometimes, checking all the boxes comes across as not enough.

In theory, if you are one thing, you may be better or more specialized. Your energies and skill building have not been split. You’ve focused on that one thing.

Are you a writer, or are you an artist?

This is part of the confusion sometimes even here at Substack for me. I am both in some ways. On the podcast, I was a writer. At Instagram, you know me simply by my art, by my efforts at making art, by my insistence that regular ol’ people can make daily art, can nurture and prioritize creative habit, and can live art-filled lives—even in the margins.

Here on the Illustrated Life substack, I am both.

This space invites me to be both, and I respond to that invitation with gratitude.

My heart is in it. I want to be both and a bunch of other things, too. But sometimes that straddle, which feels innate to me and feels like exactly what I need to be doing and have to be doing, is a puzzle.

In lots of popular spaces, this might be a discussion about niche (or niching down). But I’m talking about taking a dozen steps back from that. Before you even talk about a niche, are you a writer or a visual artist?

Both.

I am a writer.

First and foremost, that is what and who I have been forever. My writing isn’t only about my art or about making art. I consider myself a writer as an art unto itself. I always have. If you ask me who I am, I will always tell you I am a writer.

I came here (to Substack) to write lists (you know, the “5 ways to be happier” and “10 ways to make a habit” and “15 ways to keep a journal” lists) and to help inspire people to keep illustrated journals. I still want to do those things. I still think if I do more of those things, I will reach more people.

Instead, I write essays and meandering pieces about the meaning of life, about finding one’s place in life, about loneliness, about the wonder of a child’s art on the wall, about the power of little stapled blank books, and about birds, lots and lots of birds. I write about trying and persistence, authenticity and accountability, about habit and meaning, memory, disappointment, gratitude, mindfulness, and faith. I write about glimmers, gratitude, and affirmations.

I spin words. I weave words. I hear words.

I cast words. I release words.

I tuck and hide words.

I layer words.

I approach words.

I am reaching out to the world with words.

But I also have an art side. And I try to wedge it all into this little space and single weekly post.

I feel at times like a variety show.

It’s a quaint term. I grew up with my grandparents watching Hee Haw and the Grand Ole Opry. I vaguely remember Lawrence Welk, too.

Minnie Pearl…. that takes me back.

Some writers write and have no art. Some artists share art and little writing. Some do both.

I can’t imagine not doing both. But it makes labeling difficult.

I don’t easily and fully fit the available categories.

I’m never quite enough in a category.

I am never xyz enough, whatever xyz stands for.

• Not scattered enough.

• Not old enough.

• Not young enough.

• Not political enough.

• Not rich enough. Not poor enough.

• Too smart. Not smart enough.

• Not hip enough. Not outgoing enough.

I’ve worn too much flannel and yet not enough. I’m not sure I fit the caregivers group. It depends on the day. I’m too shy, but not necessarily an introvert. I can’t claim any of the labels or acronyms of the day around which people rally and bond. I wear the same shoes every day. I shouldn’t have left academia.

I have too many walls and yet not enough filters.

This isn’t about having enough. It’s about being enough, being enough of “something” to make other people recognize you as that thing.

I saw a collection online, and I know from the creator’s perspective, I probably don’t fit in any of their categories. But I do. I do. I do. Just not enough. I wanted to throw my name in the ring, slide it under the door on a slip of paper, and say, “what about me?” But I know I’m not “enough” of this or that. I write “too much” for my art to be included.

People looking for certain types of art may not want to wade through my meandering essays. People looking for essays may not enjoy so much art, and a quirky blend of digital and aesthetically cluttered personal journal art.

I know all that, and yet I love this space for the openness of it. I can throw in a recipe or a life-hacking list or a Notion example, or a book review, or a fountain pen ink review.

It’s a kitchen sink approach. Maybe that really is the problem.

I’m a blend.

I don’t really want to fit in nice and tidy boxes. I’ve always been proud to be a blend. But more and more, I’m realizing that it’s hard to have no people to claim, no common ground that is “enough” to open the door. It is hard to find community when you don’t fit the boxes.

I have always assumed I was reaching a few people because I am a blend, but maybe that’s always just been wishful thinking.

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Why Are You Here?

I’m glad you are here. I hope you will comment and also tell your friends. But I am curious. Why are you here?

The performance of last week’s post and some further digging this week tells me that I’m probably just spinning my wheels. I’ve been thinking about why I am here, and I wonder why you are here. When it comes to today’s discussion, I might ask:

From there, I might ask:

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100 Days of Comic Affirmations — Seven Weeks In

Today marks the midway point, so it’s time for a quick visual update. It feels like it’s been a long time. 100 really is a lot. Can I see this through?

Here’s a look at the last two weeks:

Diary comic affirmations, days 36-49. ©️A. Cowen

There are some missteps. A few of these make me cringe. A few still don’t have the right words. But I am enjoying myself. I am grateful for the few comments at Instagram. I would say that my positive thinking has not improved, but I have really enjoyed the process of deciding on the words each night.

I have had a bit of a crisis of faith though in realizing, really, that images like this are everywhere. Somehow that has never bothered me with my portrait drawing. It’s the same thing, really, but it struck me hard this week that what I’m doing now is something not only that lots and lots of people do but also that can be done with the push of a button.

I love the process, and I think this is a really strong series, so this is just a bit of an acknowledgment of doubt. Maybe that is to be expected as we start the second half with a lot of days to go.

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Illustrated Journal Week 14 for 2024

For Week 14 for Illustrate Your Week 2024, I redrew the same stuffed bunny, even though I realized last week that I also drew it last year. That’s okay. I drew another similar one, too.

It was a week I expected to paint. Some weeks, I just can’t make that work. Longing for my early days when I used multiple fountain pen inks and didn’t worry about colored pencil or watercolor, I loaded up a pen with Yama Budo, a tried and true ink. It’s in a pen that has some issues. (I am not a fan of plunger fillers because I’ve had such a terrible time with this one.) I ended up with magenta hands for days, but it was also nice to see that color spreading onto the page the few times I picked it up.

For so long, I kept a dozen or so pens inked and tried to keep up with monthly ink log pages in my journal. I am sort of missing that approach to life. (I still keep many pens inked, but I’ve only been using black in my journal.)

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The Weekly Bits and Pieces

💭 100 Day Project / Comic Affirmations 43-49

🎯🖋️ Week 15 prompts for your illustrated journal

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Writers to Read

Here are some posts from other writers that I enjoyed in the last week or so:

• How Your Brain Tells Stories: Visual vs Word-Based Imagination (by Evelyn Skye) - This is a topic I’ve talked about many times. It took me a long time to understand that I don’t visualize and that there is a name for that—and that it explains a lot. Not being able to visualize makes drawing, and my interest in the graphic novel format, a lot more difficult. I always need a reference. Here are two shows I think talk about this issue (though not in scientific terms). One of these, I think, talks about closing my eyes and trying to picture an apple. It’s an exercise I often do. There are other shows, I know, but these two come to mind:

Episode 358: Thinking in Words and Pictures (This one did hinge upon having read something by Temple Grandin, and I know some of you are not fans. The show is about visualization. We all fall somewhere on a spectrum of ability to do that.)

Episode 438: Get Out From Behind My Eyeballs

• A Tribute to Mr. Fred Rogers (by Heather Brebaugh)

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Made It?

Thank you for reading.

I always invite your comments.

Thank you to those who continue to read and support this space. It means the world.

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1. I finished Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet this week and wanted to immediately start the next book. I put it on hold, and it’s in now, but in the meantime, I started something by Ruth Ozeki. It feels huge. I really want to go wallow in the ease of the next space opera, but for the moment, I’m getting my bearings in this world.

I parked alongside the park while waiting for someone at an appointment. Hesitant to leave my things (e.g., my iPad) in the car, I got out and set a timer and walked a bit this way and a bit that, back and forth, never too far. I stopped and listened to the wind. Back in the car, I started the Ozeki book and also a graphic novel on loneliness.

I finally put together a simple resume this week, something I’ve needed to do for years. It’s a cusp move, probably a nothing move. But it feels better.

I said things I shouldn’t have. But, as is often the case, I feel better having done so.

2. This isn’t a discussion of whether or not writing is an art or form of art. Of course it is. “Art” in this conversation stands in for visual art.

3. Ongoing changes in forms and labels and terminology and acronyms and pronouns underscore how important issues of labeling can be and how we, as individuals, often rail against limiting boxes. But this (essay) isn’t a political discussion or about these issues.