Instagram. It was once a place of unrivalled online connection, eye opening visuals and joy! Instagram was the app that held the little people up higher than we’d ever been! It opened up possibilities of being discovered through the use of tags (@) and hashtags (#) and some well-known person or brand seeing your work or images. And now… it’s just not really serving me anymore.

The more time I spend on social media, the less I get out.

The fun and learning and connection feels like it’s dropping away in the face of THE ALGORITHM. A power I don’t really understand much, except that it mainly seems to be causing problems for small businesses and for the mental health of users. I have no more engagement on my posts now than I did eight years ago and I put just as much time in. That could be for a hundred reasons.

But basically I’m looking at the balance of time spent there versus happiness, sales or a positive gain of any kind and I’m coming up short.

It has given me the nudge I need to go back about 15 years in my online life and return to the idea of a more analogue, opt-in method of communicating with the people I want to connect with - the humble mailing list. I have kicked off with a ‘call to action’ comic (you can see the whole 20 panel comic right here or ironically - on instagram. I imagine the making of the mailing list each time will be a fair bit of work, but it has also brought me back to the one place on the internet that is 100% mine. This website. I’m putting in blog posts that have been languishing in the drafts, updating bits of the shop, listing new products, making sure the illustration and comics sections are up to date - I even put the contact page back in.

Thinking about what to put in the mailing list is making me get things done - some of the things I have been putting off for a long time. That can only be good, right?

It’s making me take stock - a great thing to do in the Spring when everything feels like it’s just about to really get going. It’s also something I can do from bed with my usual Eastertime cold.

Oh, you’d like to join the mailing list? Well you can - right here. I would love to have you on board - you’ll be treated to exclusive comics occasionally and offers, but mostly you’ll be first to get all my news in a handy spot. Hope you’ll love it.

A good pal sent me a one line email in July 2023 that read, "This looks right up your street”, followed by a link. I clicked the link, read the opening paragraph of the residency listing and my mouth fell open. Sometimes friends know you better than you know yourself. I read on and it confirmed what I already felt. I have to go on this residency. It’s been a long time since I wanted something this badly, since I felt something was really for me, but this call out felt like that.

Recently someone told me, “sometimes the things you need find you”. It felt comforting to hear that, whether it’s really true or not. Right now, it rings true.

The short story is, I applied to this writing residency on Orkney (cue panic, soul searching, determination), I was accepted (relief, immense elation, shock) and then discovered I could not apply for funding in time (crushing disappointment, desperation, distress). A real rollercoaster of emotions. I experienced a short period of agitation where I felt like I was shattering, chasing each piece of myself in a different direction; how to find the money, who to ask for advice, what to do next, how to use my time, could or should I even go? It was the profound disquiet of seeing something you feel is infinitely important sliding away and feeling powerless to change course.

In the past months I’ve not been sharing much on social media because honestly, I have been struggling. Making new work has felt near impossible, I’ve not had as much client work as I’m used to and my practice seems to be leaning in new, unpredictable and divergent directions.

I’m also not even sure I want to remain (entirely) freelance, in part due to a couple of personal revelations that mean I’m seeing almost everything through a fresh lens.

It’s been an exhausting time. But after a morning of disquiet and casting a wide net to find solutions, I had come up short. So I drew. In moments of extreme emotion, often I turn to creation as a form of processing; writing, drawing or making. In half an hour I made some quick drawings telling the story of the journey so far and asking for help. I was desperate. I could think of nothing else to do. I put the story on instagram and within an hour I had multiple comments of support, urging me to crowdfund. The folk reaching out to throw me a lifebelt were instrumental in building my confidence to officially ask for help on my terms.

The crowdfunder (again) took a few days to pull together and think through. I designed a reward structure to tempt would-be supporters and to encourage me to consider making new work inspired by time on Orkney. Within a day, all the funding was there. ALL OF IT. I could not believe it - it surpassed any funding fantasy I might have entertained. I felt waves of gratitude and such a lot of strong emotion. Each time I checked, the numbers were ratcheting up and each incremental rise made several things evident to me:

1. People are amazing. The power that even a small group of people have is immeasurable. Much good can come from believing in that and trusting that people have your back. Also it helps that I know some truly wonderful people.

2. I am worth something. I have a discernible worth as a person and as an artist (whatever that means). Often that’s not clear to me - I’m not angling for sympathy because I don’t need it - but for reasons I am still unpicking, I have a low opinion of myself that is debilitating and requires constant work to counter.

3. Asking for help is OK. Sometimes we need help, and if people don’t know that, then how can they assist? Though it’s almost painful for me to ask, I know now I can do it and it can turn out fine.

4. This experience is meant for me. Sure, that’s not a measurable, quantifiable fact, but this trip, this learning experience, this whole journey that began with that email feels like it is supposed to happen for me.

The result is that - painful as it would inevitably be - even if for some unthinkable reason I don’t make it to Orkney, the gifts the residency has already provided have been manifold; renewed confidence in my creative practice, renewed trust in my instincts, belief in the goodness of people and the power of simply asking for what you need. Officially, THANK YOU to all the supporters. Without you I’d be on a different course. Next time you offer support or help to someone else, just imagine for a moment how much that might mean to the recipient. To this one it’s immeasurable.