A lot of my teachers hated me back in elementary school. Even though I was a pretty bright kid, and one of the better-behaved students in class, there was one thing about me that struck their nerves: I doodled. A lot. So much so that I was visibly inattentive. The teachers couldn’t really complain, though – I got good grades and I wasn’t making any noise. My mind was simply elsewhere, and I had a habit of putting those thoughts onto paper.
Problem was, the closest available paper was always in my notebooks. Some teachers would inspect our notebooks to make sure we were taking down notes and doing all the exercises. During those times, I frantically tried to rip out pages like this:
Unfortunately, I didn’t always clear the clutter on time, especially during those pesky surprise inspections. My notebooks were made an example of more than once. Heck, I even got demerits for my messy notes.
I couldn’t help it, though. For one thing, my notes were usually shortcuts. I had a habit of weeding out the unimportant stuff on the board and simplifying things. That led to a lot of free space in my notebooks; space that I had to fill. It just so happened that I loved doodling just about as much as I did writing.
Back then, I used to dream about becoming successful for what I wrote and drew. I’d become a famous novelist, a comic book double-whammy of writing and art, a wacky cartoonist; something like that. Somewhere along the way, though, people convinced me that the starving artist stays starving, and so I told myself to grow up, give up on the doodles, and work on the more profitable of my two meager talents. I became a writer and an editor.
That, of course, was total bullshit. I still kept doodling into my notes well into college. During lulls at work meetings, I’d pretend to take notes while trying to master the subtle nuances of cartooning. At the very least, I’d draw female eyes, my go-to doodle.
Until recently, I’ve been so consumed with making money off of writing that I’d completely forgotten my other passion. It’s a shame, too, because I’m one of those folks who need a creative outlet to stay sane. That’s actually the main reason I keep this blog – although I’m not really writing any fiction here, I at least get to write a little more creatively than the drone-ish work-writing I usually do.
It occurred to me that there’s no reason why I couldn’t use this blog as an outlet for my doodles, too. I mean, it’s in the FREAKING TITLE. Now that I have a shiny new (cheap) graphics tablet again, I’m doing just that. From now on, you’ll be seeing more doodles to go along with the words. You’ll probably be seeing less words, too, since the drawings can say a lot on their own. In effect, you’ll be seeing more of the real Marco as well.