Anatomy Of A Failed Cartoon Idea
I hardly ever write about how cartoons come about for me. The simple reason is that I don’t really know. But what I do know is that there are a number of ways playing on paper can go once the barest suggestion of an idea flies in on any given day. My number one rule for working is: show up. All that means is sitting down with pen and paper. My number two rule is: make sure my pen — a Rapidograph — is working. Beyond sitting down with pen and paper, the rest of the work day is up to the Cartoon Gods.
As I said in the above paragraph, there are a number of ways playing on paper can go. This is an example of a drawing (and a beginning seed of an idea) that went nowhere. Yesterday, somewhere mid-morning, after receiving a few ideas that I liked and committed to paper (signed and ready to send to The New Yorker for consideration), I continued on working (that’s usually how the day goes). The idea of a high wheel bicycle dropped into my thinking. I thought: hmmm, that would be fun to draw, so I drew it (you see that first try in the center of the page shown below). After I drew it, and put that fellow next to it with his hand resting on the seat, I remembered that long long ago, pre-my New Yorker days, when I worked a summer job in Cape May, New Jersey, I lived in a boarding house, right across the street from a beautiful Victorian home (Cape May is lousy with them). The home was owned by a fellow named Tom who had a high wheeled bicycle. Every so often I’d see him take off on it and ride down the street.
Remembering seeing Tom on his bike, I also remembered how big the bike was, and how high up on it Tom sat. So my first drawing was inaccurate: the man was too big for the bicycle — or the bicycle was too small for the man. I drew a second bicycle. The one on the left. But I drew it too close to the first one (the little back wheel actually intersects with the large wheel) — leaving no breathing room to explore. So I drew a third bicycle — you see it upper right, with a fellow now in Victorian bicycle clothing (or so I imagined — I believe Tom dressed up like that for his rides). I liked this one. It seemed right. Next came the woman speaking to the guy, and the sofa she’s leaning on. The sofa suggesting I had started thinking this cartoon would take place indoors, in a living room.
While all of this drawing is going on (we’re talking a few minutes at best) words are also suggesting themselves, as is the possible framework to make this drawing become a cartoon that would work (for me). The idea of a marital split, and division of property came to mind. You see that in the wording. She’s trying to be kind and generous by saying to her husband: “I won’t ride it anywhere as much as you.” “…No really, you should have”…etc., etc.. I found it amusing that the woman was going to be over the moon happy not to have that big bicycle in her life once the couple divorces.
Everything began to fall apart, though, when I wrote “the high wheel bicycle should go with you.” I wanted a better, more fun, name for the bicycle than “high wheel.” I Googled high wheel bicycle and found all kinds of names for these bikes; I also found a lot of history, and different versions of the bicycles. Way too much information. I try not to look at reference images because they usually kill my enthusiasm. Either I begin thinking I should draw things “correctly” or I get bogged down in reading and lose interest in the drawing. This is exactly what happened yesterday. I remember the exact moment I abandoned this drawing. It was when I came upon an alternate name for a high wheeled bicycle: “Penny Farthing.” Thud. The fun I was having evaporated, justlikethat. I put the drawing in the day’s work sheet pile, and began staring at a brand new blank page, very happy to have a fresh start on who knows what.