How Small Wins Save You When the World’s a Mess

Gouache lightning bolts and sketchbook carnage. Impulse on the charge, Chibi Spawn smirking in the corner, and ink-stained sketchbook pages stacked with DIY energy.

(Cue the scratch of a dull pencil, the creak of an old school chair, and Baxter the Schnauzer barking at the chaos outside—just like old times)

Art as Armor: How I Learned to Create While Everything Fell Apart

Growing up, I didn’t live in a Norman Rockwell painting. Parents in and out, home life like a revolving door, and school? A battleground. Lunchroom fights, hallway ambushes, you name it, I probably dodged it.

Art wasn’t a hobby. It was survival. My bunker. My armor. I'd sketch ninja turtles in the margins of homework, draw Super Mario Bros. levels on diner napkins, and escape into worlds that didn’t punch back.

And decades later? That same reflex still kicks in when the world looks like it’s teetering on the edge.

Big Gigs on Pause? Build Your Wall, One Brick at a Time

Right now, there’s no “next big project” waiting in my inbox. No grand opus on the horizon. Publishers are dodging emails like it’s dodgeball day in gym class. Contracts? In limbo.

So what’s the move? Same as it’s always been: small wins.

• Smaller pieces: One ink wash study at a time.

• Personal experiments: One gouache experiment with textures that bleed in all the right ways.

• Weird little projects that don’t care about market trends: One Frankenstein’d digital-traditional mashup that feels like you stitched it together in a basement lab.

I’ve learned this the hard way: treat every doodle, every throwaway sketch, every failed experiment like a brick. Stack them long enough, and you’ve built a wall strong enough to keep the chaos at bay.

That’s how Spawn Kills Every Spawn got done, one “little win” at a time. Behind every polished page? Dozens of wrecked thumbnails, scrapped panels, and late-night arguments with myself over whether the blood splatter needed more “oomph.”

Chaos Isn’t the Enemy, It’s the Muse

Resetting my studio lately has been like disarming a creative landmine. I’m sorting through shelves of half-used Prismacolors, donating supplies to local kids, and unearthing old sketches from the Death Jr. era like they’re lost relics.

But here’s the twist: chaos is my co-conspirator.

The best art often comes from turbulence. Caravaggio? Painting masterpieces while running from murder charges. Frida Kahlo? Turning bedrest into a revolution. History is stacked with creators who thrived in dumpster fires.

And me? I’m battling CSS on my website one minute and throwing gouache at bristol board the next.

The Side Quest Hustle

Every artist dreams of the big boss battle: the gallery show, the game launch, the comic series with their name on the spine. But when that main quest glitches? You grind the side quests.

• That random Spawn fan art? Landed me work.

• That cursed ink wash landscape that bled everywhere? Became my site’s header.

• Those abandoned Monstroids sketches? Now bait for future projects (and some sneaky SEO).

Side quests aren’t distractions. They’re where you level up, sharpen skills, and stumble onto the happy accidents that fuel your next big win.

Reset the Room, Reset the Mind

It wasn’t just about art supplies or shuffling boxes. Resetting my space became a way to reboot my creative brain. Making room—literally—for new ideas to creep in. Tossing out old clutter and building shelves became part of the creative ritual.

• Clearing space for experiments: gouache, ink wash, colored pencils.

• Planning hybrid workflows: traditional textures with digital finishes.

• Resurrecting forgotten tools and techniques from the sketchbook graveyard.

Reset your studio. Reset your process. Reset your headspace.

Art Is Resistance (And It Always Has Been)

Look, I’m not ignoring what’s happening outside. I spend weekends hitting protests where and when I can. I’m tuned into the chaos, just like everyone else.

But art? Art is how I process it all.

When the world’s spinning out, you’ve got two choices: freeze or create. Turn panic into pages. Turn anxiety into ink splatter. Let your gouache bleed like the headlines.

Because every time you sit down and make something, anything, you’re flipping off the noise and saying, “I’m still here.”

The Takeaway: Little Wins, Big Payoff

No, I don’t know what’s next. Big book deal? Maybe. More personal commissions? Probably. But here’s what I do know:

Little wins matter.

A sketch today. A new experiment tomorrow. A weird project that no client asked for but makes you grin like an idiot? That’s how you survive creatively.

It worked when I was a kid dodging fists in a cafeteria. It works now, dodging economic mayhem and AI art generators. So yeah, the world’s weird right now. Make weirder art.

Be bold. Keep cartooning.