I’ve been re-reading Lynda Barry’s One Hundred Demons; I pulled it out for the aswang story, but found myself going through the whole thing. I’ve been reading her since her Ernie Pook’s Comeek days, and I’ve always admired her light touch on what are sometimes very un-light episodes in her characters’ lives — and her own.
This particular demon had to do with her perceptions about what a writer “should” be:
Hmm. Sounds familiar. Well, okay, I did read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.
Lynda spent her childhood reading the classified ads in the back of the paper, and making up stories to explain the stranger ones. One would think that making up stories would be the number one qualification for being a writer, but perhaps not.
Substitute “blog” for “comic-strips”, and I think we now know why so many of us are out here in blogland.
The point, I suppose, is that letting someone else define creativity is the surest way to lose touch with your own. At least, that’s how I read it, and it’s a lesson that I have to remind myself of, always.
The entire strip is online at Salon. Enjoy.