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I have a theory.
Most people have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about.
They’re just incredibly polite.
For example, I might say:
“I finally found the perfect typography.”
And the answer is usually:
“That’s nice.”
No.
It isn’t just “nice.”
This is a historic event.
It’s like greeting Neil Armstrong after the Moon landing with:
“So… you landed?”
“Yep.”
“That’s nice.”
No.
It isn’t nice.
The universe has finally returned to its natural balance.
I also have a friend on Instagram.
A really good one.
He always replies.
Eventually.
I’ve noticed something interesting.
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If I send him a short message, he usually answers within a few minutes.
If I send a long one…sometimes I don’t hear back until the next day.
At first I thought he was busy.
Now I have a different theory.
I think I overload his operating system.
This is how I imagine it happens.
The first paragraph is fine.
The second paragraph raises a slight concern.
By the third paragraph…an alarm starts blaring somewhere inside his brain.
WARNING! WARNING! THE ARTIST IS TALKING ABOUT FONTS AGAIN!
CPU temperature rising.
Cooling fans at maximum speed.
System resources critically low.
The processor bravely attempts to analyze the sentence:
“The problem isn’t really the weight of the font… it’s the emotional energy it radiates.”
At that exact moment…a tiny puff of smoke escapes.
One quiet click.
System shutdown.
User temporarily unavailable. Please try again tomorrow.
The next day he’s back.
Friendly.
Curious.
Smiling.
As if nothing happened.
And I simply continue exactly where I stopped yesterday.
I don’t think our conversations take so long because I have too much to say.
I think it’s because the other participant occasionally needs to reboot.
Then I realize it isn’t just him.
Whenever someone asks me,
“So… what did you do today?”
I answer,
“I worked all day.”
The next question is always:
“Great. What did you finish?”
“Nothing.”
That’s usually the exact moment when I see the look.
You know the one.
The expression that silently asks:
“Is this person a creative genius…”
“Or should I call someone?”
But I really did work.
I spent the entire day looking at a single letter.
I moved it two pixels to the left.
Then back.
Then two pixels again.
Eventually I discovered…
it had been perfect exactly where it was in the first place.
Eight hours.
Well spent.
If you tell that story to an accountant, there’s a good chance they’ll reboot too.
Writers aren’t any different.
“Today I deleted six thousand words.”
“Oh no… I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“Because you lost them.”
“No.”
“I saved the novel.”
And that’s usually where the conversation ends.
Digital artists are just as bad.
“What did you do today?”
“I fixed a shadow.”
“All day?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t even see the difference.”
“Neither can I.”
“But I can feel it.”
I think artists speak an entirely different language.
We say perfectly normal things like:
“That letter feels too confident.”
“The red needs more anxiety.”
“This image is too loud.”
“The main character’s eyes don’t look guilty enough.”
Everyone else simply nods.
Not because they understand.
Because they care about us.
Or because they’re slightly afraid.
Both explanations seem equally possible.
Sometimes I wonder if my friends have understood a single thing I’ve said over the years.
Maybe they’ve just become experts at smiling, nodding, and saying,
“I see.”
Even though…
they absolutely don’t.
And honestly…
I’m not always sure I understand myself either.
But when I spend three hours deciding whether one letter should move half a millimeter to the left…
it somehow feels incredibly important.
The funny thing is…
the next day I usually move it back.
Because that’s where it belonged all along.
It only took eight hours to be completely certain.
Continue the Conversation
If this story resonated with you, here are three more you might enjoy.
– Dedicated or Obsessed? Science Is Still Debating
Ever walked into the kitchen… and forgotten why? Creative minds have their own way of organizing reality.
– How Am I Supposed to Write a Case Study When I Have No Idea How My Work Was Created?
People often ask how creative work is made. I wish I had a clear answer myself.
– The Soul of an Artist Is Basically an Overexcited Goldfish
Being understood isn’t always the hardest part. Sometimes believing in your own work is even harder.
For Writers Who Speak the Same Strange Language
If you’ve ever spent hours choosing a single word, deleting an entire chapter, or wondering whether one letter should move two pixels …you’ll probably understand why I create book covers the same way. Every cover at BoN Editions is exclusive and sold only once.
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