Step 29: Dance Like No One Is Watching

Despite being rhythmically challenged, I love to dance. I dabbled in it as a child and later got a little more serious about it in college, until I was finally able to put my meager skills to use when I was cast in a local theater production of CATS in 2009.

Green top, can't stop.

I didn't (and still don't) have a great physique, nor did I have the long, elegant lines of a true dancer, but I always gave 110%. I loved and absorbed all the different facets that went into creating a moving piece of art--the music, the emotion, even the clothes I wore. Donning my dance tights, jazz shoes, and thigh-high leg warmers (which don't actually do anything but HEY they look cool) never failed to make me want to pop my leg up into an arabesque.

Can you guess which cat I am? I'll give you hint: I'm on the left. :P

In my book, Mohawk Girl is a former ballet dancer. It's not a big part of the story, and dancing is ultimately a source of great grief for her, but I thought it suited her. I imagined a lithe talent hidden behind a carefully-crafted, gruff exterior. And because I love dance and drawing beautiful women, I put two and two together:

If you haven't figured it out, I have an unhealthy obsession with the pen tool.

Step 28: Discover Paradise

I apologize for this blog turning into something of an anime reviewing forum but OH MY GOD I JUST WATCHED THE BEST SHOW EVAR!!!!111oneeleven

You might even say watching it felt like... paradise.

That's not even me being sarcastic. Paradise Kiss is downright ancient by modern anime standards, and while I was familiar with Ai Yazawa's work (I read a few chapters of Nana back in the day), somehow I've only just now sat down to watch ParaKiss. It hits all the right spots: highly complex relationships, a diverse cast (a bisexual character and a transgender character introduced in the first episode? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP), gorgeous clothes, realistic depictions of love and sex, etc.

YES LET'S GET ON WITH IT ALREADY

All the characters are noteworthy and deserving of praise, but I want to talk about George for just a minute. Normally I wouldn't give a pass to a character who is such an asshole, but George is so unabashedly a prick that you can't quite fault him for his innate personality. He goes out of his way to manipulate people--and not always in a bad way. Yukari transforms from a weak girl unsure of her future to a strong woman with a sense of purpose thanks to George's less-than-gentle prodding.

Laaaaadies... (And gentlemen too, apparently.)

I probably won't read the manga because for once, an anime properly adapted the entire comic from start to finish (it helps that the manga was only 5 volumes). But I want to give a special shout-out to the art of Ai Yazawa, which the anime faithfully retained. Yazawa's style is much different than the usual cookie-cutter moe characters with big googly eyes you normally associate with Japanese manga and anime, and she puts her fashion background to illustrious use. I guess my only real complaint is the bittersweet ending to Paradise Kiss, because I loves me some happy endings and ParaKiss doesn't wrap everything up in a nice little bowtie, but it certainly elicited all the feels inside of me. I'll leave you with a blog post someone else wrote that discusses the art of happy endings, and who put into words far better than I could what it means to have a satisfying conclusion to a series while still retaining a realistic nature.

We'll always have Paris... Just kidding Yukari doesn't go with George to France cue me crying all the tears

Step 27: Hate-Watch

The other day I talked about hate-reading the Kare Kano manga; last night I hate-watched an anime titled Say "I Love You". In my never-ending quest to find a good romantic series to sink my teeth into, I stumbled upon every cliché high school trope known to man (ugly girl attracts the most popular guy in school, violently possessive boyfriend, girlfriend with a major tsundere complex, etc.) all rolled into one goddamned train wreck of a show--and I'm only four episodes in.

*urge to throttle main character rising*

And yet, Say "I Love You" is just endearing enough to keep me interested. I feel like I ought to turn in my feminist card for being even remotely charmed by its ridiculous premise, but I'm such a freaking sucker for anything that tugs on my heartstrings that I can't seem to peel my eyes away. It's stories like this that probably give women the wrong idea of men and relationships (because seriously this shit does not happen in real life), but come on--what girl who has ever struggled with self-esteem issues didn't fantasize about catching the attention of someone as hot as Kurosawa Yamato?

Y hello thar.

Even though I indulge in the occasional guilty pleasure, I've always tried to keep my own ideas as grounded in reality as possible. The very first story I ever wrote featured a totally average, relatively unpopular high school girl who finds love--not in the star quarterback, but in a fellow nerdy student. And you know what? She comes to appreciate her averageness, and embraces her relationship with her average boyfriend wholeheartedly.

Art circa 2003.  I may have to revisit this someday...

I'll be the first to admit that my book isn't entirely absent of clichés, but I tried my hardest to give them context, or at the very least hang a lantern on them. I feel like Defining Lines would be a perfect story to adapt in animated form (more so than live-action for... reasons), and sometimes I wonder if there is someone I could sleep with talk to about getting it in front of the eyes of an animation director. Perhaps there are too many cultural differences for it to be appealing to a Japanese studio, but still... *sighs dreamily*

C'mon, Japan--I know you want a piece of this shōjo fluff.

Step 26: Dress Dapper

One thing that I really love about Kare Kano is Tsuda Masami's attention to fashion. I have about as much fashion sense as a bridge troll (and live approximately the same kind of lifestyle), but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate beautiful clothes. Tsuda makes some questionable choices when dressing her characters, but generally speaking, her sense of style is on fleek.

Uh... generally speaking.

Fashion is one thing that I've always struggled drawing without reference (I would have made a shit fashion designer). I have to scour Pinterest for hours on end if I want to put my characters in anything other than leggings and a t-shirt. That being said, it's not like anyone has to twist my arm to get me to look at pretty girls in cute clothes! My very favorite is when women are dressed in suits; it doesn't matter if it's a feminine or masculine cut, or if the models embrace their long locks or have it cropped into a more boyish style--it just stirs something inside of me. I love androgyny and those who are brave enough to push the boundaries of our binary society, and as far as I'm concerned, ties look great on anyone and everyone.

Preach on, Doctor.

I played around with dressing one of the protagonists of my book in a suit. Red is extremely girly, so I'm not sure if a suit would--ahem--suit the character, but I think it looks cool. It was also kind of an exercise in messing with negative space, so for a couple of hours of work, I'll call it a win. I've been drawing Red with bangs up to this point, but I'm just going to pretend they're slicked back.  Because, fashion.

Haute couture, y'all.

Step 25: Hate-Read

I mentioned before that I rewatched Kareshi Kanojo no Jijō, but the anime ended abruptly due to creative differences between the manga-ka and the director of the show (Anno Hideaki of Neon Genesis Evangelion fame, of all people). However, the manga saw the story of Miyazawa Yukino and Arima Sōichirō to completion, so I picked it up again after not having read it in many years.

*Anticipates relishing in all the 2003 feels*

It's... actually a lot worse than I remembered, haha. I forgot how choked it was with walking stereotypes of brooding male jerk wads and the submissive women who love them. Also, everyone marries their high school sweethearts and lives happily ever after, as if teenagers become frozen in time and don't go through any formidable periods of self-growth in their twenties. So, yeah--not a particularly accurate depiction of reality. I was all over that shit like a fat kid on a cupcake when I was eighteen, but my 31-year-old self is more dubious.

What the hell did I just read?

It's not entirely without its merits--Tsuda Masami-sensei crafts a gripping, wonderfully-woven story over the course of 21 volumes--and I certainly enjoyed reading it as a guilty pleasure. Furthermore, I have to credit Kare Kano for influencing my sequential art over the years; in shōjo manga, dramatic pacing is everything, and Kare Kano brings drama in spades. But it also relies heavily on physical violence (hitting people is a sign that you love them, I guess?), and my earlier drafts of Defining Lines included an embarrassing slapping scene that I thankfully omitted in later revisions becaUSE DUH HITTING IS NOT OKAY.

What is it with Japan and smacking people???

I have to poke fun at Kare Kano for one more thing: In later volumes of the manga, Tsuda clearly began phoning the art in. KKNJ was never the visual masterpiece that Rurouni Kenshin was, but the manga-ka literally began cutting and pasting photos of actual things into the art when it became too much of a bother to actually draw the object in question. Because, you know, it's not like she was getting paid to be an artist, or anything.

His and Her Circumstances Thinly Veiled Attempt at Rendering Shoes

Step 24: ...

Another day, another drawing. I finished the rest of the piece I had posted a preview of last week, and here it is:

The Monochrome Army.

It's the same three characters I've discussed in previous posts. I wish I was better at coloring, but alas, I haven't developed a style I'm sold on yet. Realistic rendering looks a little wonky with my stylized linework, and cell shading looks plain lazy.

Coloring is overrated anyway.

At any rate, it's good that I've been keeping myself busy, because that request from an agent for my full manuscript was rejected. They gave me some good feedback, which gives me hope that my story isn't quite the hot mess I think it is, but I'm still back to square one.

Congratulations on accomplishing exactly nothing!

I'm going to try to keep up my illustrations. Even if they're all for naught, drawing has had a therapeutic effect on me as of late. If I disappear for a few days at a time, look forward to a new piece!

Step 23: Dig Through The Archives

Those pages I drew to send to the agent really primed my illustration pump, and it feels good to be inspired to draw again. I've been doodling more sketches of the characters in my book, and I whipped this one up last night of Mohawk Girl:

Spiked hair, don't care.

It's actually a part of a larger piece I'm working on, so hopefully I'll get that up eventually. I feel like she ought to have tattoos, but after spending way too much time with the pen tool drawing each line of her fishnet stockings individually, I said "fuck it" and stopped there. Most of Defining Lines takes place in the winter, so she's usually bundled up like an Eskimo anyway, with little exposed skin to speak of.

My hand thanks me.

Interestingly, as I was drawing it I had a vague recollection of drawing the same character many years ago in a similar position. I scoured the depths of my hard drive, and this sassy figure revealed herself:

Not proud enough of it to slap my signature on it.

That file was dated April 25th, 2007--nine years ago almost to the day. I have a love-hate relationship with looking at my old art; while it's fun to see how far I've come as an artist, I still cringe when I remember how good I thought I used to be.

Uh, you do you, 2007-Shea.

Step 22: Savor That Strawberry Wine

Yesterday was a weird day that has culminated in me writing this blog post at 2:30am on Friday morning. I make it a point not to spend too much time thinking about days gone by, because the practical side of me can't afford to let my sentimental side take over and waste energy crying buckets. But the past has a way of catching up with you sometimes, as it did to me yesterday afternoon, and I can't seem to compartmentalize it as well as I usually do.

The details are a little fuzzy, but I distinctly remember one of the very first dates with my high school boyfriend was on my 17th birthday in 2002. He took me to the opera to see Faust; he was dressed smartly, and was waiting for me outside the theater with a single red rose. I can remember the little green plastic vial of water it came in, and the chaste kiss we shared before we headed into the theater.

My heart aches at the memory, but I'm not entirely sure if what I'm feeling is sadness over the loss of him, or what he represented. I push the memories away so I can move on with my life, but at the same time I clutch at them tightly, because memories are fleeting and my time with him was important and formidable and so very precious.

Through my tears, I couldn't help but stop and laugh.  Because, in the very definition of irony, I found myself trapped in my own life-imitating-art moment.

Hello... /adele

That's the cover to Volume 8 of The Rising Stars of Manga, which my short graphic story, Strawberry Wine, is featured in. I can't take credit for the plot; it was essentially my interpretation of the Deana Carter song of the same name in illustration form. It was one of my favorite songs growing up, but I never truly appreciated the meaning of either the song or my own work until tonight.

I won't bore you with the details, and the art is painfully amateurish compared to my current skill set, but I'll humor you with the final two pages of the story:

I feel like my 17-year-old self is calling out to me from my past. I wonder what she would think of me now?

Step 21: Accept The Circumstances

There's a reason why I end up watching the same five animes over and over again, and it goes a little something like this:

Me: I wish I could find a series as good as [blank]

Me: *tries watching something similar to [blank]*

Me: ...

Me: Fuck it im just gonna watch [blank]

After binging on Rurouni Kenshin and Ghost in the Shell for the last few weeks, I wanted to shift gears and watch something cute and romantic in the vein of Kareshi Kanojo no Jijō (His and Her Circumstances in North America), or Kare Kano, for short. I started an episode of the highly recommended Clannad, but ultimately decided that it had been far too long since I had revisited Kare Kano and settled with devouring the first 12 episodes last night.

Freckles is arguably the most upbeat anime opening, but Tenshi no Yubikiri sure gives it a run for it's money.

What I love so much about Kare Kano is it's essentially a master class in romantic tension. The story doesn't suddenly stop becoming interesting when the two main characters get together; the tension builds at each new milestone of their relationship, from the moment they hold hands for the first time, to their first kiss, to their first heavy kiss, to the first time Arima Sōichirō touches Miyazawa Yukino's breasts (done extremely tastefully, I might add), to when he finally confesses that he wants to make love to her.

My 18-year old self seriously needed a cigarette after watching Kare Kano.

That's all pretty explicit subject matter for a show aimed at teenage girls, but it's exactly what made it so real to me. I loved Sailor Moon as much as the next 90's tween, but I couldn't identify with shojo magic the same way I could with Kare Kano. It was the series that made me realize that anime absolutely was a valid storytelling platform, as much as any Hollywood movie I saw.

Who knew hand-holding would be such a turn on?

I have bittersweet memories attached to Kare Kano. When I first discovered it in 2003, I was a year into what would turn into a seven-year romance with a former boyfriend, and so much of Kare Kano was relatable in my own relationship. Yukino and Sōichirō got their happy ending in the manga, and I... well, I got my own happy ending, albeit in a different way than I had imagined.  Still, I have photos to remember the good, and whenever I hear the instrumental tune of Yume no Naka E, I'm transported to a moment in time that my aching, cynical heart longs for.

As Yukino's father wisely said, "A day in high school is more precious than a moment in adulthood."

Step 20: Listen To Your Ghost

In light of the new movie coming out (and my reservations regarding it), my husband and I decided to revisit the Ghost in the Shell universe by binge-watching Stand Alone Complex and SAC: 2nd Gig. Truthfully, I had all but forgotten just how good it is, and upon completion of it I resolved to make my next book as intelligent and carefully-woven as the GitS series.

My introduction to Ghost in the Shell was actually via the 2004 movie Innocence. It was playing at a tiny indie theater near my house, and since I was at my peak Weaboo in the early 2000's, without hesitation I went to watch it not knowing anything about the franchise. In a lot of ways, I feel like Innocence is the best way to introduce someone new to the series; the animation far surpasses that of the first movie (which honestly, in spite of the dated 90's garb, still holds up pretty well) and perhaps even the TV show, and the mystery surrounding the character of the Major certainly made me want to learn more about the series.

Still, Togusa and Batou in their Miami Vice outfits has its charm.

I guess it goes without saying that one of the things I love so much about this series is its strong female protagonist. It's not a plot point or a storytelling device; it just is. Major Kusanagi is the CO of an elite counter-cyberterrorist unit called Section 9, and her fellow team members follow her loyally without questioning her abilities. They make no comments on her choice of clothes or the women ("Floozies", as my husband likes to call them) she sleeps with; it's all normalized, with nary a blip on the radar.

The franchise is not without its moments of fan service, but it's hardly a distraction when on the whole the Major is such a gripping character. You might be tempted to label her as a borderline Mary Sue--she's darn near great at everything, from hand-to-hand combat to sniping--except she's got her fuckups as well, especially highlighted in the second season of the TV show. She struggles with her humanity (or her perceived lack thereof), and yet the very things that make her question whether she truly has a "ghost" ultimately proves its very existence. Coupled with an amazing supporting cast--Aramaki, Togusa, and especially Batou, whose unrequited affection for the Major literally pains me to watch--this franchise will have you chewing over it for days.

Or possibly give you nightmares.

After my husband and I watched the TV series, I took it upon myself to finally--finally!--watch the 1995 movie last night, which I had never seen before. Each media version of GitS exists in its own separate universe--the manga (which sadly I have yet to read) is one, the Ghost in the Shell and Innocence movies are another, the Stand Alone Complex/Solid State Society series is a third, and a fourth is the prequel OVA Arise--and they all take on a different, albeit connected, flavor. The TV show pays homage to the original movie several times, and it was fun to spot all the easter eggs.  Take, for example, the thigh-high leggings of the Major in the 1995 movie and the first season of Stand Alone Complex, as well as a shot-for-shot comparison of the Major leaping off a tower:

It's hard to believe, but the Major actually wears more clothes in Stand Alone Complex.

At the very end of SAC: 2nd Gig, Section 9 is decked out in combat gear very reminiscent of the armor they wore in the 1995 movie:

Vintage is the new cool.

And of course, it wouldn't be Ghost in the Shell without Batou screaming out "Motokoooo" ala Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire:

Starting with her head getting blown off in the 1995 movie...

...and continuing the trend in Stand Alone Complex.

SAC: 2nd Gig -- Now with added Christian symbolism!

I guess my biggest "complaint" about the franchise is that every movie and TV series is so convoluted that it requires multiple viewings and several open Wikipedia tabs to fully comprehend the story. Which, honestly, is an easy price to pay when you're watching a show that actually makes you feel smarter upon completing it. Also, fair warning: If you find yourself as attached to the adorable, cuddly Tachikomas as I was, you're in for some serious heartbreak.

I thought what I'd do was, I'd pretend I was one of those deaf-mutes PEOPLE WHO DIDN'T CRY WHEN A ROBOT DIES

Step 19: Waste Time

Heyo! Sorry for running off for a few days, but I'm back. I holed myself up in my studio working on another page during the week, and I only just now have something to show for it. So, without further ado, here's both of the pages I put together (first one slightly modified from the original):

I'm not really sure why I wasted time doing these, but they were a fun little exercise regardless. It's kind of neat for me to see my book unfold visually, and it makes me wonder what the story might have looked like had I chosen to adapt it in graphic novel form.

Shiny and chrome!

Still, it was more work than I care to admit, and I often wonder whether the physical labor of drawing is worth the trade-off. The rub with illustration is that there is no way the viewer can ever fully appreciate the finished piece when all is said and done, and it's doubly true with graphic novels--I mean, how long have you spent staring at any one page the last time your read a comic book? I try and make the effort when reading comics to really savor the art and absorb each and every pen stroke that went into such a monumental task, but even knowing and experiencing the effort myself, a drawing is only considered "good" if there aren't any flaws for your eyes to get hung up on. It's when spotting a glaring mistake that most people take more than three seconds to inspect the image closer.

Just how many legs does that person have???

Step 18: Stretch Thoroughly Before Partaking in Strenuous Activity

Funnily enough, drawing doesn't affect my dominant arm nearly as much as it does the other one. For whatever unconscious reason, I press down really hard on my left elbow when I'm in the grip of an intense inking session, and I haven't wised up enough yet to put a cushion under it.

Better than carpal tunnel, I suppose.

At any rate, I've been goofing off in photoshop and doodling some panels from my book for no reason other than I've got nothing better to do to occupy myself until I hear back from my queries. Here's a page of the two main characters meeting for the first time:

Down here, asshole.

Goofy, I know, but I can't quite let go of some of my early manga-inspired tendencies. Sometimes a derpy face and a sweat drop is just what's needed to get the point across. I think it's also worth noting that I can't draw perspective to save my life, but I already spent too much godforsaken time on a drawing done simply for shits and giggles, so... meh.

To that end, I'm struggling with the same problem I've faced ever since I made the switch from traditional art to entirely digital. There's something in my sketches that's omitted when I lay down inks; mainly, the energy in my drawing seemingly gets lost in translation. I blame it on easy access to the Command + Z key--every line becomes too perfect, as if a robot drew the picture.

Teach me to be more human, Tachikoma!

Step 17: Phone In A Title (Part 2)

Here's the third and final character design I finished yesterday, for your viewing pleasure:

Eyes as black as your soul.

I'm dubbing the above character "Red". Bright ginger hair, dark eyes, Mona Lisa smile--Red is a cool beauty whose story is central to Defining Lines. This was arguably the hardest character to pin down; how do you convey aloofness and secrecy through an illustration? I'm not quite sure I completely captured Red's personality accurately, but hopefully if I keep trying, all will be revealed to me in time.

Think adding a cross-shaped scar would be too obvious?

For good measure, I threw together a collage of the three main characters, complete with some haphazardly drawn clothes:

Charlie's Shea's Angels.

So, what is the story all about, and how do these three come together? Well, I can't tell you that. At least, not yet. Maybe I'll accidentally drop some hints along the way, but for now, just know that I wrote this book because it's something I would like to read. Hopefully, you will too!

PLEASE LOVE IT