p e n c h a n t

There seem to be many myths about art and creativity. One of them is that the process of creativity is done under the sway of some nebulous creative mood, which comes seldom and vanishes at its own mysterious will. You must wait for it the way you wait for the sun to come out.

“So,” I’m asked occasionally, “you work when you’re in the mood, when those creative juices flow?”

Mood, shmood. If you want to use the word mood, mood runs in our veins, along with all those creative juices. That’s what our gray matter consists of. That’s who we are.

“If I waited for The Mood,” I usually say, stressing the The, “I’d be flat broke.” (Not that I’m rich, mind you, not even close—that’s another myth.)

If there’s any mood to be had, we create it.

We go to work, not unlike a man with a shovel across his shoulder, with a purpose to perform. We may not know what the exact result will be—usually we don’t—but we are engaged the entire way through, from the first glimmer of concept to the final polished result. If we’re an illustrator we have story to start from, and we respond according to its needs. If we’re a writer we have something to say, and we endeavor to say it in the most succinct, unique way we can.

In the process, we are pulling something out of nothing.

That’s work, believe me. It may not be brow-beading (though sometimes it is), but it’s certainly brow-beating, soul-sweating, mind-wearying.

Also in the process, we are pulling something out of a vast reservoir—the accumulation of all those somethings, whether they’re from years of formal education, practice, life’s experiences, or intensive research. That, too, takes hard work. Lots of it.

Am I in the mood? Give me pen and paper. Just possibly, if I try hard enough, I can put you—not in The Mood, but in a mood. A mood that enhances the subject. That may have an affect on how you see, or think, or feel or laugh or cry, in that moment. Or even longer.

We’re mood makers, not mood twiddle-our-thumbs anticipators.

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Written moodily.

Troy Howell Well, hello, IC. Long time no see. –(See Enter, view.)
Imaginary Character I see nothing’s changed around here. Same tired humor.
TH And what have you been up to?
IC Very funny. I’m not on the wall any more. And I’m not IC, remember?
TH Wait, wait, don’t tell me….
IC That’s a news game show.
TH It’s a cliché.
IC Clichés are old hat.
TH Precisely.
IC No, I was Humpty Dumpty, but that got boring. Then I realized in some kind of scrambled epiphany—
TH Sunny side up?
IC —that it wasn’t I who was imaginary, but your own yours-truly self.
TH You mean me?
IC Precisely.
TH Yes, I do remember. And it was you who made me up.
IC How does it feel being fictional?
TH Not as bad as reality.
IC But in fiction you can’t undo it. You’re stuck.
TH In life you can’t either. What’s done is done.
IC You can go forward.
TH You can go forward.
IC So that’s why I’m real now.
TH I see.
IC Will you stop saying that? It’s not funny. I’m not imaginary. I’m real. Real, real, real, real, real.
TH And I’m not?
IC No.
TH Prove it.
IC You know that piece you wrote? On that other blog? All about you being Tom Sawyer?
TH What about it?
IC Dumb. Character as window, mirror, ha. Smoke and mirror’s more like it.
TH That’s in there too.
IC What?
TH Smoke.
IC Anyway. It’s embarrassing. Like a dodo doing calculus. You made it all up. It ain’t real.
TH Didn’t you see the photo? You think I made that up?
IC I mean the stuff about reader and writer and whispering hearts.
TH Hmm.
IC You need to get real. I’m going to deconstruct you. Hope you don’t mind.
TH Hmm.
IC Hmm.
TH Well?
IC I’m thinking. OK. I’m going to be Tom. Thomas Sawyer, sir. Just for a bit. See what it’s like. Here, pass me the pain killer.
TH Wait … what are you doing?
IC Putting you out of your misery.
TH Can’t I just fade out?
IC Like the Cheshire?
TH Good enough.
IC Smile.

*

Alice And what does outgrabe mean?
Humpty Dumpty Well, outgribing is something between bellowing and whistling, with a kind of sneeze in the middle.

More apologies to Lewis Carroll, whose real name was not that.

illustration by John Tenniel

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Not only do most of us have an abundance of food, we have the teeth with which
to eat it.

The last time I was in Manhattan I saw a man rummaging through a wastebasket on the street corner where I stood waiting for the light. He found a McDonald’s cup, finished off whatever was in it, and as the light changed I stayed where I was.

When in New York, I always carry a satchel with a few survival items for the day—
a manuscript or sketchbook for my appointment, a few writing pens, an apple, an energy bar, a bottle of water. I usually don’t give money to street people; if I give anything, it’s food. I offered the man my apple—a sweet organic Fuji. Appreciative, he shook his head and grinned. I was stunned: his teeth were gone. He explained in broken English he couldn’t bite. “Here’s an energy bar,” I said, pulling it out. “Can you handle that?” “No,” he said, still grinning. “Thanks anyway!” He wandered on down the street.

As the day progressed I discovered I couldn’t eat the apple, and ended up giving it to another homeless man near Columbus Circle, as I made my way to my favorite Chinese restaurant before taking the Amtrak home.

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Map design by John Tauranac / © 1990 Tauranac, Ltd & Artpost

and a crimson of cardinals burdens the birdfeeder, five crows—one with a hiccup
that follows its every caw—come harassing, the cat who wanted out wants in again,
both wood stoves, upstairs and down, are coughing and choking, and the ink in my
pen’s gone cold.

artwork is charcoal—the real stuff, right from the hearth—on charcoal paper

In book illustration, as in writing, you don’t include everything you’ve produced. Much of the process of creation involves exploring ideas, such as points of view, details, style. Though it may be a great idea or well done, like a beautiful metaphor, if it doesn’t quite fit, out it goes. You don’t wear a coat that doesn’t complement the trousers (OK, there are exceptions).

These are a few visual ideas I created for the book, Mermaid Tales from Around the World (Mary Pope Osborne / Scholastic Press). The first is a cover concept. The other two helped me immerse myself (pardon the pun) in the subject. Nothing’s wrong with them, but they were more of a “day in the life” approach rather than illustrating any of the stories. Perhaps I should have found a way to include them somewhere in the front or back matter.

To view a finished color piece from the book see the Trunk Sale.