'I wanna get married! I wanna have your emo Navy-babies!' by Kara
Monday, February 11, 2008 at 6:57 AM

For serious. My Inner Grownup and I don't talk nearly enough. Although with the car coming up, we've had more chats than usual. Mostly about money. With Katsucon looming and the problem of nifty things in the dealers' room, I'm having to tame those other two by limiting myself to what I shall allow myself to buy.

Oh, that is so gonna work.

Yanno, I still get people asking to write with me. And I say no, and they ask why, and I say 'Because,' and they say 'Because why?' and I say 'Because elephants have flat feet.' Okay, no, that doesn't happen. They don't ask why so much as they pester.

With two Co-Writers in England and one starting a job that changes his entire schedule, I think I've figured it out.

I've known all three of these people for going on seven years now. I know about their personalities and their tendencies. I know they're intelligent and talented. I know they're gonna accuse me of being a miserable suck-up. But most importantly, I know they're reliable.

Think about it. These are people who could, at a moment's notice, go, 'You know what? Fsck it. I don't wanna do this tonight. I've got stuff to do. Let her figure it out for herself.' And I could easily do the same, but they know I'd rather gnaw my arm off than miss an update.

We trust each other. And while I may get paranoid about the safety of a Co-Writer if they go missing (oh, Christ, that one Otakon ...), I know they'll always be in contact in some form.

I don't know that about the people who write to me and come up to me at cons and say they'd love to work with me, and I'm pretty sure me taking seven years to get to know them goes a little beyond delayed gratification for them.

I've watched it happen with other webcomickers, or really anyone in any sort of creative relationship. You'll have one dedicated person and one who may or may not care depending on if they get a better offer that weekend. And this is almost always with people who've just met. It's a seriously foul thing to watch happen, and I can't imagine actually going through it.

So all those people who run up to me begging to work on something with me, ask yourselves:

Could you send me two weeks' worth of work, at Christmas, right before both of us leave town?

Could you write up an entire story arc while holding down an 80-hour-a-week job?

Could you take a break from your dissertation to play out the dialogue for a massive wodge of book?

I know three people who did.

And that, kiddies, is why I don't work with anyone else.

If you have been, whoa, nelly!