blank white square
Fan Con was hosted virtually this year. It was a far cry from the sprawling Mecca of a typical year, where connoisseurs of all aspects of Geek culture gathered in endless halls of exhibitions and hype-filled presentations.
Nonetheless, fans still embraced the ability to don the likeness of their favorite video game or comic character—albeit showcased in tiny, virtual conference squares on their screens.
For months, I had a single Fan Con focus—to meet my long-time hero, graphic novelist Niko Iwasaki. Over three decades, Niko penned over fifty wildly imaginative pieces. She took me on epic adventures to the peaks of an ice palace built atop a dormant volcano on a distant planet, to the surreal voyages of a Victorian airship and crew traveling through time.
Her characters became some of my closest friends—and at times, greatest confidants. To me, a new Iwaski novel was a holiday—and yes, I always took the day off of work when they debuted. I’d devour the books—usually in the span of a few hours; and would comb through them in detail—scanning for carefully placed Easter Eggs, while internalizing her always poignant themes of identity, existential reflection, and finding power through our inner strength.
I got that 3 minute chat with Niko, and it took every fiber of my being to suppress my elation. Niko was warm, and unsurprisingly eloquent in her exchange. Her narrative was polished, but I felt heard through her engaging gaze, affirming nods, and thoughtful responses.
At the end of the chat, I asked Niko, “How do you do it? How do you write over 50 graphic novels?”
“One crappy sketch everyday,” she said, “that’s my rule… I have to start everyday with a crappy sketch. I can’t put expectations on it, and that gets my stylus moving. But that’s the point—do it everyday, and 50 graphic novels sneak up on you. Some days, the flow will even surprise you.”
It was almost as if she bequeathed her secret to me, nudging me into my own potential. I felt it.
Before we said our goodbyes, Niko annotated the screen, drawing a blank white square. “There it is, child—take a screenshot, it’s a blank square begging for a crappy sketch. Go on and do it now.”
How could I not?
-m
October 11, 2200