In early 2020, I left Los Angeles. I’d spent nine years there trying to kickstart my career in animation, but felt like I was getting nowhere. I decided to return to my home state and throw myself into publishing books, which was not a financially stable choice by any means, but at the time, I was doing rather well.

I thought I was leaving animation behind. The world had other plans. A pandemic and global shutdown spurred animation studios to (temporarily) embrace remote work. A studio hired me in 2022 as a storyboard revisionist, and I was back in the industry. This felt like a second chance, and it was, but once again, I find myself stagnating.

I don’t feel good enough. At this stage in my life, it’s hard to believe I’ll ever be good enough.

Now, it’s easy to blame this on the current state of the animation industry. The major players have stopped greenlighting shows. They’re cutting back staff. A high percentage of animation professionals are out of work. I’m extremely lucky to have a job right now, but I balance this with the knowledge that I spent the better part of a decade trying and failing to gain a foothold in the animation industry.

I’ve been at my current job for two years. It is the longest I’ve been employed in animation since I left my previous career (marketing) and enrolled in art school in 2007. Extremely lucky, but this moment was a long time coming for me. After 10+ years, I would have liked to become a storyboard artist. Perhaps I could have become a director, or supervising director, like many of my peers. While it’s possible to be a career storyboard revisionist, it is also considered an entry-level role and paid as such.

So, why has it taken so long? There are plenty of factors to point at, many reasons friends and colleagues might offer to assuage my insecurities, but the most consistent factor is quality of work. I simply could be a better artist, but I struggle to find the time to work on improving. My attention is split.

Because, while I work full-time in the animation industry, I am still making books. I write and draw graphic novels. I spend up to 60 hours a week drawing and writing, and managing my household with the time that’s left. It leaves little time for serious artistic study, which can be its own full-time endeavor.

Once, long ago, I had a brief stint as a storyboard revisionist on another show. The director once asked me what I did in my spare time. I answered truthfully: I made comics. He gave me a long look and then said (paraphrasing): “Eventually you need to decide what’s important to you.”

I realized I’d answered wrong. He wanted to hear that I was working on my fundamentals: practicing anatomy, perspective, doing personal storyboards. He saw comics as a distraction from the work I should be doing to become a storyboard artist. 

At the time, I felt a bit defiant. I was a modern, independent woman. Surely I could have it all! I’d like to say I moved on from this moment, but it continues to haunt me.

When I wonder why, after 10+ years, I’m still revising boards instead of drawing them, the answer is obvious: it’s because I chose comics over animation.

I’m certainly proficient in both areas. I make decent comics. I’m a serviceable storyboard revisionist. But, caught between the two, I have not spent the time to be truly excellent at either. The Jack of All Trades conundrum (and yes I know the rest of the saying). 

I had this reckoning in 2020. Quickly barreling towards the half-century point of my life, I asked myself, how many more years do I want to spend trying to break into this industry? I hoped leaving LA would allow me some distance to rediscover who I was and what I desired. I didn’t expect to have to face these questions again.

I still watch animated shows and think to myself, “If only I made art like that. If only I was better. If I just start doing this, and this… maybe in a few months, when I have more time.” I never seem to arrive at mythical moment of having more time, though.

I suppose I could stop making comics and put that time into improving my art. I could, but not right now: I’m still on contract. Any chance of setting comics aside won’t come for another few years, at least. 

Besides, there are moments when I look at a comic page I’ve drawn and think wow, I am quite good at this, actually. I do make decent comics.

I try to be satisfied with my situation. I love animation, and revising is an important role. I really am very lucky to be in the industry. And I know it’s natural for artists to always feel insecure. I wish I could say this insecurity was driving me to improve my craft instead of driving me batty. 

Perhaps it’s not my skills that I wish were better, but the industry. I wish it was healthier. I wish I’d had the chance to stay gainfully employed and improve my craft on the job, rather than having to squeeze enrichment into an already overflowing schedule while also trying to support myself. I wish productions were fully staffed and the schedules more forgiving so that senior artists have time to mentor the newcomers. I wish everyone was getting paid what they deserved. And–well, I’d probably still feel insecure, but maybe self-improvement would feel a little less dire if my livelihood wasn’t at stake.

I might regret being this vulnerable on main, but also, I feel like my state of mind is not so uncommon. The artist’s mind rebels against stagnation. I have yearned to be in the animation industry for so long that I don’t know how not to yearn.