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(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-09 - 9:42 p.m.)
Last night, interesting news came over the home studio telephone while I was working a shift at Ipsos-Reid: a studio in Brandon, Manitoba is doing a three-issue Captain Canuck miniseries, and I was recommended as a colorist for it.
While my husband, George Freeman, refuses to work on the project (morally he just doesn't feel comfortable with how one of the other people originally involved in the Captain Canuck concept have been marketting the property), he doesn't have a problem with me painting it. So tonight a phone call with the head of the Brandon studio hashed out things like page rate, number of proofs on each page, terms of delivery, terms of payment, and all the other fun things that need to be figured out and incorporated into a contract before work can begin.
Getting my teeth into a book always fills me with almost equal parts cutting-edge excitement and fearful, shadowy doubt. I have been told that I have low self-esteem (and know it), and with each book comes the little thrill of dread: will I crash and burn on this one? Will I end up suiciding before I finish it? Taking on a book commits me to a certain number of days alive -- which is, I suppose, not a bad thing.
So, here's to new hopes and new fears!
Last night, interesting news came over the home studio telephone while I was working a shift at Ipsos-Reid: a studio in Brandon, Manitoba is doing a three-issue Captain Canuck miniseries, and I was recommended as a colorist for it.
While my husband, George Freeman, refuses to work on the project (morally he just doesn't feel comfortable with how one of the other people originally involved in the Captain Canuck concept have been marketting the property), he doesn't have a problem with me painting it. So tonight a phone call with the head of the Brandon studio hashed out things like page rate, number of proofs on each page, terms of delivery, terms of payment, and all the other fun things that need to be figured out and incorporated into a contract before work can begin.
Getting my teeth into a book always fills me with almost equal parts cutting-edge excitement and fearful, shadowy doubt. I have been told that I have low self-esteem (and know it), and with each book comes the little thrill of dread: will I crash and burn on this one? Will I end up suiciding before I finish it? Taking on a book commits me to a certain number of days alive -- which is, I suppose, not a bad thing.
So, here's to new hopes and new fears!
