Art reflects life, and we can all agree that anime is the highest form of art. I have a tendency to sympathize this art’s protagonists, from seeing depressive habits in Neon Genesis Evangelion‘s Shinji Ikari to finding bits of my journey in My Hero Academia‘s Izuku Midoriya. This behavior lends itself greatly to action-packed, story-filled anime that carry a great deal of character development and emotional climaxes. And for that same reason, I don’t typically like slice-of-life shows. I’m pleasantly surprised, then, that I sort of liked the mundane world of Comic Girls. I’m equally impressed that I felt so attached to its finale.
SPOILER WARNING: I talk about the ending to Comic Girls below.
Comic Girls follows Kaoroku Moeta (often called ‘Kaos-chan’), an aspiring, young, pink-haired manga artist whose storyboard manuscripts continually gain low survey scores and are rejected by her editor. It quickly becomes clear that Kaos has many obstacles to overcome, both technically and emotionally. To remedy this, her editor suggests she spend a semester in a dorm for other high-school aged manga artists. Kaos accepts, and the anime follows her, the handful of girls in the dorm, and the lessons they learn along the way.
Between a sweets-filled visit to Tokyo, a friend’s book signing, school-related hijinks, helping with her friends’ drawings, and a mandatory beach visit, Kaos finds the time to complete and submit new manuscripts. Each and every one is rejected with some sort of helpful comment (“Work on telling a relatable story,” “Your characters all look the same,” etc.) She makes the appropriate changes in her next submission, slowly tweaking pieces of her process while learning from the goofy artists around her.
This continues until the penultimate episode, when Kaos’ anxiety consumes her. The girls must move out of the dorm soon, yet she still doesn’t have an accepted manuscript. She submits four at once, admitting that her final one might be her worst yet.
“I couldn’t really think of anything,” she says, “so I just drew whatever came to mind.”
Of course, this manuscript is the only one that is accepted. In her anxiety and drive, Kaos tries a little too hard on many of her ideas. They end up too complicated, contrived, or laser-focused. Some of them are even heavily inspired by her dorm-mates. But this final manuscript is hers: in her tired, worn-out state, she stumbles into telling the story of her own life. By stripping away her instinct to add complex layers and a “hook,” Kaos creates something that’s unabashedly Kaos.
Her idea seems solid, and she’s approved for a weekly insert in a manga magazine—sort of a trial run, to see if it’s worth a full serialization. Things are finally looking up for Kaos.
Except they’re not. One accepted storyboard does not suddenly make Kaos’s problems disappear. The final episode is largely dedicated to her utter fear at starting on the second weekly insert. Kaos’ nerves get the best of her until the last minute, when she finally completes and submits the draft. The editor praises her, the credits roll…and a final scene plays out.
Kaos’ manga didn’t get serialized; after a time-skip, she states that she continued to submit rejected storylines for months after her inserts. It’s passed off as a joke between her and the other girls (after all, this is a quirky slice-of-life show), but the reveal hits hard, mainly since it serves as the most prescient message the anime has to offer.
Freelancing and passion projects aren’t easy to work on. They usually take dedication, persistent failure, self-evaluation, and friendly connections. In some circumstances, they even need a dash of luck. Having another problem in play, like Kaos’ obvious-yet-unspoken anxiety or my own depression, only makes the process that much harder.
One success does not guarantee a chain of successes, much like how Kaos’ insert doesn’t guarantee a serialization, or how one accepted pitch doesn’t guarantee a line of them. One single ‘okay’ doesn’t fix every problem. It’s simply a sign of progress: an indicator that someday you maybe might possibly hopefully start that chain of success.
That may sound cynical, but after some self-reflection, Comic Girls binging, and serious tweet threads, it’s the conclusion I’ve come to. It requires some odd zen between staying true to yourself and focusing that into something marketable. You need to be able to create something interesting, something that people want. Throwing out idea after idea just doesn’t cut it if you can’t inspect why those ideas are being turned down.
It’s important to never give up, though. Step back and relax. Chat with friends online, or in a manga dorm. Watch anime, watch Dota 2 tournaments, read a book, something. Chances are, you’re over-complicating your situation, and obfuscating the focus on your projects. Clear your mind and begin anew. Trust Kaos and I: relentless failures leading to sporadic success won’t guarantee your happiness or mental health. Take care of yourself, and find the joy in act of doing what you do—not in others accepting it.
what's the dyl 