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The email header read: Collaboration opportunity?
Sage –
I've been following your work for the past few years. I know this is cliché, but I'm a huge fan. For the past few years, I've wanted to start a small company, something that produces work that's weird and fun and nonsensical. After the Inkmic win, I finally can afford it. I think you would be a good fit for my company, especially after seeing your new comic.
I'm not great with elevator pitches and whatnot, and I know this email might not be enough to convince you. So, I ask you to give me a chance to show you what I have in store through the art. I have a few pieces that explain what I want to do with colors far better than I'll ever be able to do with words. Is it okay if I send them to you?
Thanks.
- kraken
"What are you thinking?" Sage asked.
"That you have the chance to work with the greatest artist of our generation," I said, breathless as I re-read the email.
She shrugged. "Well, I've already done that."
I looked up, lip poked out from how touched I felt as she kissed my cheek.
"My new comic is our new comic."
"I write on it occasionally." I shook my head. "You do the art."
"It's still ours," she insisted. "Writing has always been your strong suit. You're going into the second season of Leisah as a head writer. Tyson said you could pull back on drawing all the chapters for your hand."
I nodded, and my heart started to race as I considered our options. The next season of work wouldn’t be as intense, because Harpy was hiring more artists. We wouldn't be double shipping, and I'd be in charge of drawing only a couple of storyboards. I was committed to healing my hand, and that commitment required less work than I'd done in the past. I thought the permanent shift would be the worst thing that could happen to me, but it wasn't, because I loved the words. Writing for art came quicker than the art itself. I'd accepted it, accepted that when I finally pitched my comic, I wouldn't push to be a head artist on it. The pivot wasn't a failure on my part—it was an open door.
"You'd want to work together again?" I asked.
Sage laughed. "Of course, I would. Do you not want to?" Her face fell for a moment—not in disappointment, but sadness. I could see the wheels turning in her head; not to convince me, but to right whatever had gone wrong.
"It's fine if you don't want to," she said quickly. "I'm not upset; I'm just worried I did something wrong again. Maybe I haven’t been supportive enough."
"Sage, it has always been my dream to work with you," I confessed.
Her sadness morphed into confusion. "You don't have to let me down easy. You know I'm strong enough to get over it."
"I'm not letting you down. Despite the rivalry and your a-hole tendencies…"
"It comes naturally to me."
I smiled, nodding in agreement. "That wasn't enough to scare me away. I wanted to work with you. I didn't accept Harpy just because of Leisah. I accepted because I knew I'd become a better artist than I ever could on my own if I got to work with you."
"So I was the best and you knew it? This whole time, you knew," she teased.
I playfully poked her stomach. "Shut up. What I'm trying to say is, I want to do this with you. I want to keep making stories together."
Her sigh of relief made her heavier in my arms. "Really?"
"We make good art together."
"We do," she said. "I'm glad we got over ourselves in time to see it."
"We're lucky. Working together is like creating magic," I mused. "You're were right, you know? We're bigger than the art. Especially when we're together."
Sage smiled when I pressed an okay sign against her chest.
"Always have been," she agreed as she kissed me. "Always will be."
