I work in a comic book network. I do some drafting, some lettering, come up with some ideas. I am struggling. You can tell from my work I'm struggling.
Almost anyone can draw better than me, letter better, come up with better ideas sometimes. I am desperate, actually, if you want to know. I may not be here much longer.
I see something. Sometimes, I do. That's why I'm still here. There is a story in the news. I see the story. An aging pop star of sorts who has become a noble has had a picture in an exhibition confiscated. What was in the picture?
Little girls at play. One of them quite exposed.
I do a frame consisting of a drawing of the exact scene. I don't really see any sense to it. But I'm sure those who are better able to gauge artistry than I will do so here. I ink in every detail of this rather sorry snapshot.
My editor says, are you sick? There is nothing that can redeem a disgusting exploitation of children. She shrugs, sneaks copies of the graphic story out to where the usual moral bleaters will see it. They do see it.
Along about the time the comic comes out, so does the clamour and outrage. Oh, the sin, the depredation, the utter depravity! and the comics fly off the shelves.
For the next printing, we added a bit of whimsy, some sardonic dialogue fore, and a bit of irony aft, and the frame ran as before. We added a banner proclaiming this the Satiric Issue.
We set a record in sales, and I suppose the pews also were filled up, so everybody was happy. It's what makes us strong.
I look for the next inspiration from pop culture, as do, I'm sure, the preachers.