I watched, nervously as the numbers slowly ticked down before my eyes, and the gap between my car and the vehicle in front of me slowly widened. Forty, 39, 38, one mile at a time until the speedometer found its equilibrium. My foot never touched the brake pedal.
Having only ever driven a car so old it had not only a CD player, but also a cassette tape deck, my a brand new Subaru felt more akin to a spaceship than an SUV. Add that to the fact that my recent vehicular purchase was precipitated by a car accident in which I crashed headfirst into a pickup truck who ran a red right in front of me, and I was more than a little tentative to test my Crosstrek’s adaptive cruise control feature.
The day of the accident, I was scheduled to meet (via Zoom) with a local author whose book I would later agree to illustrate. Now, more than four months later, I have only a few spreads to finish painting, and (finally!) a new set of wheels.
I must admit, neither of these events were close to anything I had planned for this year, neither in my budget or my schedule, but both have turned out to be great practice in patience and trust.
The truth is, I like to be in control. Sure, on a long drive, it’s nice to stretch my legs from pressing the gas pedal once in a while, but I need to know I can also hit the break. Much of the same holds true in my work as an artist. I like the autonomy that comes with both writing the words and illustrating them.
I’ve always been hesitant about the idea of illustrating a self-published book. While it’s a completely viable route for some authors and illustrators, but since publishing my first book in 2018 with Blue Manatee Press, I’ve focused my energies on the traditional publishing route. In speaking with Theresa the day of the accident however, I felt something solidify for me. Her story, as well as her vision appealed to me as a fellow creative. So I said yes.
Working with Theresa taught me to loosen my grip on the creative process. We both accepted our fair share of compromise, sure, but the real magic happened when we bounced ideas back and forth without a strict border between text and imagery. More than once even, a simple visual choice on my part (the olive green color of Sally’s coat for example) I later learned from Theresa was eerily accurate to a coat worn by the real life character. Creative kismet, no?
By the time I reached the Missouri-Iowa border, I’d found a rhythm, allowing the cruise control to adapt to the slower moving vehicle in front of me, long enough to glance in my mirrors before passing on the left.
It was a practice of give and take, not unlike the collaborative creative process, I now know firsthand.
