I've been working on a zine with my friend Katie over the past few weeks. I'm using a piece I wrote after a horrific manic episode. I remember sitting on the couch in the living room with my roommates and while they were watching something, I was writing and coming down hard. For some reason in that moment, I wanted people to know him. I wanted others to know my beast.
It's written much like children's books are written. The language is very simple, very clear. It isn't long or very complicated. But I think that's the right place to start. In this zine, accompanied by Katie's illustrations, my beast is given shape. He looks very much like the way I have imagined him.
This process has been surprising, affecting me in ways I couldn't have predicted. Sitting with Katie in a cafe yesterday, watching her bring to life this creature, this companion, was so strange. Suddenly there he was. Suddenly he was real.
It surprised me that when we first talked about the kind of illustrations I wanted with each line, how quickly the images came to me. I know what this looks like though. I have known what this looks like for so long.
This might be the most vulnerable I have chosen to be about him, ever. For some reason this feels bigger than a conversation or a blog post. This feels like the beginning of something. A door.
Maybe this is the beginning of a series. Maybe it has been an experiment and a step in my healing process.
I'm going to try to keep the beast from ruining it, whatever this is.
I haven't decided exactly how many copies I'm going to make and I feel weird about selling them even if it's only for a dollar or two. But if you want one, maybe let me know?
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