By Shen’ai, Taiwan
One day while watching the news, I saw that a famous Taiwanese comic book artist had died suddenly at just 51 years old. Hearing the news left me with a mix of emotions. He had been a really prominent person in the world of comics and had created a number of excellent works; many people envied and looked up to him. He had both fortune and fame—I had never thought he’d end up dying just like that! I couldn’t help but sigh: When someone dies, no matter how famous they are, how much status they have, what good is it? Then my own 30 years on the path of creating comics occurred to me …
Youthful Dreams
I’ve liked drawing comics since I was a little boy—it was something I really delved into and put in a lot of effort. When I was 25 years old, I had the good fortune to see a comic book artist in person, and saw that there were a lot of fans surrounding him, adulating him. I was really envious and longed for the day I could be just like him, the star of the show. I knew that I needed to keep working hard to get my skills up to the level of a professional, but I thought that if I was willing to pay a price, my day would certainly come. Driven by this thought, I buried myself in it for over ten years. I didn’t hesitate to spend several months’ wages, tens of thousands of yuan, on a set of high-quality graphic novel materials for reference to improve my skills. Money was pretty tight, but I couldn’t have cared less. I would often draw until two or three in the morning so I could hone my skills, and when I got so sleepy that I really couldn’t bear it, I’d just take a short nap, and as soon as I opened my eyes the very first thing on my mind was how I would finish whatever I was working on. I would spend ten or more hours drawing every day, always in the same position, so my neck, shoulders, back, and right hand were frequently sore. My fingers even changed shape and my eyesight started to deteriorate. But for the sake of success, I just gritted my teeth and bore it. I was elated when my comics garnered praise from others and even indulged in daydreams that I was already a successful comic book artist with a nice car and a big house. But in real life, I was just an unremarkable employee in a company and I had no chance of becoming famous. No matter how well I could draw, I’d never be able to earn much. I felt really sad and dejected.
