sugarenia.com

I have a love/hate relationship with web design.

It’s what I like to do. When I first coded a website, looked at it and thought “hey, that’s nice”, I decided that’s what I wanted to do for a living. Even though I have a Computer Science degree and I’m lacking in graphic skills, I love learning about the basics of design through trial & error.

On the other hand, empty Photoshop documents scare me to death. When a project starts and I have to start thinking out of the box, my mind shuts down. For a person as dependent on method and rules as I am, creativity is a huge struggle sometimes. I can prototype and wireframe a project’s ass off, but when it comes to design, I feel like a rabbit in front of headlights. So many possibilities!

Long story short, I get quite paranoid while designing a website. And I thought I should share it with you, dear readers.

Here are the phases I’m going through while designing:

1st phase: Fear of the dark blank slate

Launch Photoshop. File > New. Stare at the screen till eyes feel tingly. Shut down Photoshop and open WoW. Play till eyes bleed.

2nd phase: GTD

I’m feeling quite guilty at the moment, so I usually break up the design process in itsy little steps and enter them in OmniFocus. I start working on the first todo, typically “Launch Photoshop”. Something fancy gets my attention on Twitter. 90 minutes and 12 clicks later, I launch Photoshop and create a new document.

3rd phase: Procrastination

I start translating my wireframes to .psd talk. Typically, that means that I just copy my wireframe to Photoshop, trying as hard as possible to avoid any kind of creative thinking at this point. I obsess over grey boxes and alignment, till I remind myself the finished result will hopefully not look anything like it. I try to switch my mind to creative mode.

4rd phase: Guilt

By now, quite some time has passed and I’ve got nothing to show. I turn to the web for inspiration. It dawns to me: every web designer out there is more productive and creative than me! Every single link I click on is a nightmare. There’s a devil on my shoulder whispering “See how well she’s done it? And in so little time? Try to beat THAT”.

5rd phase: Denial

This is the worst phase, both for me and the people around me. I become moody and unapproachable. I answer to questions with grunts. I mope around the house, wearing pj’s and eating trash food. I’m convinced I’m a fraud, that I somehow managed to cheat people into thinking I’m a designer. No colour scheme works, Photoshop tools give me hell, I can’t even draw a straight line. I sometimes cry. I sometimes have fits. All in all, I behave like a brat.

6th phase: Spark

While browsing every website from Dribbble to Youporn [NSFW obviously / but safe for MY work / mwahahaha / yeah.] and squeezing my mind trying to come up with something, I see it. My spark. My inspiration igniter. It doesn’t have to be a full website, it can be a background or a button or a textured line. The world shifts, everything clicks into place, a feeling of warmth inside me tells me: Everything’s gonna be alright.

7th phase: Execution

That’s where the real design happens. I form a bubble around my design. I’ve been known to talk to myself during this phase – things like “Oh I know! It’ll look exactly like this” are occasionally heard in Casa Sugar. I design like there’s Devil hot on my tail. Sometimes I forget to breathe. Double rainbows all across the sky, unicorns fetch me sandwiches and I keep wondering “Gee, how could I question myself? I’m a great designer”. Yeah, modesty doesn’t really work in this phase.

8th phase: Delivery

[Save for Web|Archive]. Fire up Gmail. Attach & send.

And this happens every. Single. Time.

If that’s not a love/hate relationship, I don’t know what is.

This month, I officially celebrate my first 6 months as a freelancer. Surprisingly enough, one of the reasons I quit my day job and went the self-employed route was because I wanted to work less, not more. I don’t want to get rich sacrificing my personal life. I just want to achieve a balance.

So this year, I’ve done the unthinkable: I gave myself a full month of vacation time. August is a (really) slow month in Greece anyway, since temperatures have the bad habit of raising to and beyond 30C (~90F). Surely not an appropriate environment for slaving in front of a text editor.

The moment my vacation started, I thought I was in heaven – one full month without commitments, apart from a 9-day trip to UK? You’re kidding me, right? I felt like a schoolgirl again.

However, these idyllic days now belong to the past. As any good thing (insert horrible cliché here), they’re history. And I find myself struggling to get back to work, starting one of my favourite months of the year.

So what have I learnt from this one-month sabbatical? I keep reminding myself these three things:

• When you’re busy making plans, life is busy passing by. Stop making plans. Never stop doing things and having fun.
• There’s never enough procrastination. You’ll never bore yourself surfing the shiny ‘nets. It’s in your hands to put an end to your ever-worsening ADHD.
• Don’t leave any “someday/maybe” plans for your vacation. Vacation time should strictly be time off. Your body won’t let you work anyway.

I was planning to finish my portfolio page this month. Liven up my blog. Work on various personal projects. Improve my web design knowledge and practice.

Instead, what have I done? Nothing really. Read about 9 fiction books, walked around most of London, got a slight tan, went to a kickass beach party and visited relatives & family. Also started a tiny vidcast. And that’s it.

Will I try this prolonged vacation again? Most probably, yes. Maybe even more. But I’ll start my future vacation thinking about what I won’t do and not about what I’ll do.

That’s always a more realistic point of view, I think.

I won’t miss you.

You were a shitty year all over. Seriously.

And now that you’re leaving, I’m ill, with a throat that feels like a bag of rocks and a cold sore on my lip the size of Mount Doom, with my grandpa at the hospital recovering after surgery and my parents dead tired, bouncing between our home and the hospital, and a car whose poor right side has been scratched all over due to my amazing parking skills.

You won’t hear me complain, 2009. Why bother. There are millions of people with problems far worse than mine. Actually, billions.

But begone, ok? I’ve had enough with you.

2010, bring it on. I’ll kick your ass all the way to Patagonia if I need to.

Happy New Year, everyone. Be healthy, mkay?