The First Panel

Those who know me know that I very rarely give a whit about brand names. There are a few that inspire thoughts of quality and/or nostalgia, such as Sons of Sandlar, Sharpie, and Coleman, but they are few and far between. The least explicable? Moleskin. With roughly the same ease that I could staple some scrap paper together, I could spend an average of $16 for a stamped-leather case and an expanding inner pocket that has the history of the brand inevitably inside. There's so little POINT, against what I could do for cheaper, yet I love the damn things. Consistently. I can sidestep the issue by simply not running into them too often; I don't actually go into bookstores that often since Borders closed, and I've never typed "Moleskin" into Amazon. Sidestepping helps. I've gone years without buying one, in fact: a set of three small grid-paper notebooks which I use for finances. Then I went to the new mall. The new fancy-pants mall with a Tesla store and a masculine boutique devoted to quality shaving products. How could I resist? I wandered. I browsed. I ignored the clothing stores, the furniture stores, the jewelry kiosks. I was poor, I was untempted, I was safe. Safe, indeed, until I rounded the corner and saw an entire store devoted to Moleskin products. 

Those devious bastards. 

I have, I'll finally admit, that kind of personality that looks at file folders and weekly planners and thinks "if I get this, I can organize everything and be on top of things! Look how useful this would be! It will ABSOLUTELY work, this time." After years of practice (and wasted weekly planners rendered useless by the passage of time), I can finally recognize that no, I probably WON'T use it. I can make do with what I have. Yes, EVEN if the item in the store has lots of pockets. I finally can resist those temptations that I've weathered so many times. 

The danger lies, instead, on the ingenuity of new products that I hadn't even thought of before. 

Specifically, here, I found one final copy of a new-to-me product. It was the size of a large index card, akin to their average pocket notebook. Black leather bound, with the familiar black elastic band to hold it closed. Inside, two to a page, are simple blank boxes for use as storyboards. Oooooooohh. This was one of those times when I've walked away from an impulse buy but I've come back an hour later to complete the bargain. Two reasons: I'm writing a novel, God help me, and I've long wanted to get back into drawing. I used to draw all the damn time, when I was a kid, but now I spend those creative hours click-surfing youtube and scrolling endlessly on pinterest. Go me. This book provides a little of that structure I always crave, though, because I can use the panels to draw out miniatures of the scenes I write. It helps me visualize my story and it gives me a drawing format to follow. Done deal. 

It's only sat on my shelf for three days, which is a really good turnaround against my artistic track record. Today, after a high-internet-low-accomplishment start to the day, I set out to do that first panel. Most of my book is from Terf's point of view, but the beginning of each chapter comes to us from Love's side of it. I think I'll pull the second panel from Love's opening as well, but here's the first part that I used as my muse:

Love walked the streets in fall. Spring was the season of infatuation, Summer the season of lust. Winter was the time of affection, of family, but Fall was when love settled in. ... Couples walked by Love, their laughter growing and fading as they moved. Love watched lovers tuck hands through arms, lean cheeks against shoulders, flash their teeth in brilliant smiles as they animatedly shared their thoughts, their lives, their joy.

(Picture to be added once I scan it)