To mentally slap yourself on the back of the head and state 'You idiot, you're looking at it wrong!', is a glorious moment.
I was so consumed with creating a perfect piece of work. I laugh at myself now. After all, I am an artist. And any artist worth their salt would tell you that they are their worst critic. I doubt that it is even possible to create perfection.
I must admit that it will never be perfect. My hope is that it will, at least, be complete before I die. Once complete, I can refine, expand, or define.
I have more ideas than can be contained within the one novel. What, exactly, is preventing me from making those others a side project? What is stopping them from just being little snippets of story?
I have sketches of drawings; what about 'sketches' of story? What about sketches of comic book pages?
Who knows? I may just sketch the exactly perfect thing to fit in that one, hypothetically, difficult point in the story.
Was I really so determined to let this die?
