my 14 completed pages went back down to 9 yesterday, after my first (at Last) successful forray into getting editorial advice. as we went over the story i realized that it bottomed out in two places, or teetered on the edge of excessive obscurity (not difficult in my brain.)
nearly a crisis, but nothing 7 hours of hair pulling, intense thought, tears, tea, and redrawing didn't fix. i'm back up to 9 completed ('xcept for colour), 7 scrapped, 7 new pages mapped out and ready to draw, and only one spread still a little dodgy. woosh.
it's fucking work, man.
and for what, i ask, at moments like these? WHO KNOWS.
but it keeps me out of trouble, i suppose.