Inktober is coming. The nervous tweets and passive inquiries between artists continue to murmur throughout internet space. The Official Prompts list for 2019 is out, but if they’re not appealing to you, there are hundreds of others that people have shared. Each year, Inktober is anticipated with a mixture of excitement and dread. It’s a shared project that hopes to build camaraderie and community, but elicits a strong desire to be completionistic, grandiose, and noticed by the masses. Burnout is often just a prompt away. My personal belief is reworking the overall mentality of the project, as it should be a healthy medium of “learning something new” and “doing something fun”. There is no “wrong” way of participating in Inktober, and I hope to provide a few of my learning moments from my participation last year, and my hopes for this year.
Inktober was created by Jake Parker, a comics short-story creator, concept artist, illustrator, and animator in 2009 as a personal challenge to improve his inking skills and develop positive art habits. In 2013, it boomed in popularity and became the internet sensation it is today: 31 days, 31 drawings. Hashtag Inktober. Too often do we glamorize the artist and yet hold them to capitalistic standards of production. It’s important to treat art as a muscle and work instead of just waiting for fits of passion or inspiration to take hold. It’s also important to realize that artists are not machines, and the work of a creative is asymmetrical.
Inktober has since become a yearly celebrated phenomenon, with thousands of interpretations and different ways to participate. Some go the traditional route, others digital or a combination of the two. During this time, artists focus on their lineart or black and white contrast. Some utilize other mediums like watercolor or colored pencil for grayscale. Writers can also get in on the action, because what is the written word if not ink in prose? For professional artists, it can be a nice side project to revitalize their main work, or as a way to turn improvement into a fun, engaging daily routine. There’s always something new to learn, and it’s a fun thing to share.
But this is where we get hit in the gut. Suddenly, the fun thing to share becomes a looming building of expectation we put on ourselves. We become obsessed and stressed by the idea of doing every prompt, perfectly, with the hope social networking platforms will put our art on the refrigerator for the internet to clamor and gush over. It then becomes about being noticed, getting likes and followers, and validation that you are an Artist with a capital “a”.
Then life happens, and you miss a prompt. You try to catch up but one missing prompt leads to the stress of finishing another, and then you miss a week. Depression kicks in and you sit in this critical spiral of how bad of an artist you are… all for an internet meme. I know this because this happened to me the last two years, but my goal for 2019 in general was to hold myself to a human standard: life happens, productivity isn’t symmetrical, and the majority of my art is free entertainment. It’s one thing to improve positive work habits, but that should also mean knowing when you are on the verge of burnout, and to realize the very fact you participated is a win.
Now, I will say the hardest part about Inktober is starting it. I’ve seen amazing illustrations using the best paper, fountain pens, and ink brushes. I’ve seen hilarious doodles on post-its with your average writing pen. Both are popular and completely legitimate choices. It doesn’t have to be perfect, because that wasn’t the original point of Inktober. The point is to have fun and perhaps learn something along the way. It’s a celebrated self-improvement project and, if you’ve made creative work your professional endeavor, perhaps something you don’t take so seriously.
I look forward to projects like Inktober, Hourly Comic Day, and 24-hr comic day because other artists willingly provide teaching moments. If, say, I really like how someone draws hands, that means I have more content to learn from. If another artist mentions that they fell in love with a specific pen during Inktober, I have the brand name to consider for other traditional art projects. These online phenomenons allow artists to be more open to admitting their struggles and what made a particular piece difficult without as much fear of internal criticism. It’s also a way for seasoned and new artists alike to oohh and ahhh over styles and techniques they may have not seen before. What’s more, many if not most artists are willing to respond to questions revolving around technique, materials, and what they they want to improve upon. Additionally, simply letting an artist know you enjoy seeing their work? Totally fluffs up the pride feathers a bit, just saying.
Last year, I decided to create a theme revolving around things I was afraid to draw, or things I was uncomfortable drawing anyway. The prompts were as mundane as “cars”, “perspective”, and “buildings”, or as socially controversial as “disability”, “fatness”, and “sex”. I didn’t complete all the prompts, because I burnt out putting a lot of effort into Inktober as a Big Project alongside drawing and writing Sea Legs and developing Game Night. But I am the sort of person who is refreshed by working on multiple things at once, and looking back at my old Inktober pieces, I’ve realized a lot of positive things about how I’ve progressed as a creative.
This year, I’m trying something different. I’m going completely traditional… and I’m drawing horror. Despite horror being my least favorite genre in movies or prose, I really enjoy horror comics and am immensely intimidated by how hard it is to create. They don’t scare me as much as the other mediums, and I’m more technical about how they create enjoyable spooky fears in readers. Emily Carroll is hands down one of my favorites, and I thought: what if I use Inktober to confront horror… and do it with a partnering haiku for each prompt?
The art itself isn’t going to be clean or perfect, and I’m mentally preparing myself to turn off the “make it perfect” button. This is a learning curve: a small sketchbook, various ink pens and brushes, and maybe some black watercolor… things I don’t typically use when creating. I kid you not… I spent WEEKS trying to find the “perfect” sketchbook and which pens to try. I’ve been practicing and editing for a personal project that may not even get notoriety, fake internet points, or a New York Times best seller slot. The point is, this project is what you make of it. Focus on the manageable and bench the rest. Enjoy the process as much as you hope others will enjoy the result. Holding yourself to a ridiculously high standard for a meme is just silly.
Another thing I want to mention this there is no shame in preparing early. I fully intend to sketch out multiple days worth of prompts at a time so that my focus is on the ink itself the day of. There’s also no shame in doing multiple prompts for one illustration… or only half the prompts… or one. You do you. Have fun. Be brave. Be human.