12.20.99

    After careful thought and deliberation I have finally been able to nail down my specific psychological and emotional process for creating my own little brand of web design. I think it probably is not so different from the process other creative types go through although it's just as possible that I'm a singular freak. If you've been at all curious at how I do what I do, I'm about to tell you. Take notes and don't be afraid to ask questions.

The Process

1. The kick-off meeting.
   This is where I sit down with the client and talk about all their hopes and dreams for the project. I assess their needs and spend extra brainpower trying to nail down just who they are. At the end of the meeting their is much back-patting and hoo-haaas and "I know just want you need" and "we'll be in touch."
2. Optimism.
   I surf around looking at the competition and jotting down ideas for the design. Everything has a rosy glow. I'm sure this will be my best design ever.
3. Tears.
   I've sketched ideas and now I'm in Photoshop actually trying to put something together. I've been at it for hours. Everything looks like crap. My eyes are dry and I have a headache.
4. Self-loathing.
   I'm a horrible designer. It's time to just send the client an email and let them know that they picked the wrong person. I don't know how to do it. I have no idea how to get their message across and I know that I'll never come up with an idea. I look wistfully over my portfolio and wonder where that inspiration has gone. I yell at my computer and hiss at the cat.
5. Obliteration.
   I throw back a couple glasses of wine or a few beers and try to forget about the project for a little while. I ponder what my next career choice ought to be. I wonder if I would enjoy my life as a plumber. A momentary panic that even if I studied as a plumber no one would hire me sends me back for a refill.
6. Hangover.
7. Back to the drawing board.
   This time I methodically and masochistically force myself to get something down. I try to put that kick-off meeting out of my mind and just let things flow. After a few hours of wrangling I am pleased.
8. Panic.
   I've put together something decent but now I'm afraid to show it. What if the client doesn't like it? Can they accept my vision? Will I have to start over? Don't they know that I have no talent??!! Why are they torturing me like this?!?!!
9. Delivery.
   I send the mock-up design and beg them to let me talk them through it. I have a whole spiel prepared for how to sell them on the design. I pray that I have magically and mystically hit the nail right on the head.
10. Rework.
    The client has some ideas that aren't too bad. They've been able to look at the design and they like it but they're not sure it's quite right. They give me some ideas that are already sparking my own ideas. This makes me happy.
11. Optimism.
12. Tears.
13. Self-loathing.
14. Loss of sleep.
    Nightmares of corrupted files and extreme dithering.
15. Delivery.
16. Rework.
17. Optimism.
18. Tears.
19. Anger.
    I lash out at the prepubescent newspaper boy for having "simple" problems like pimples and his next Pokemon card trade.
20. Hangover.
21. Delivery.
22. Rework.
23. Final files.
    We've finally found the design and it has been all coded up and tested. It will go live and everyone is shaking hands and congratulating each other on just how amazing it all is. Of course, sometimes it isn't all champagne and roses but most often something along the way has been worked out and everyone is content.
24. Affirmation.
    I award myself for a job well-done by going out and treating myself to a trifle indulgence with what little money is left over from the project that hasn't been spent on booze.
25. Renewal.
    I add the site to my portfolio and set off to wow another client.

And, that's why I get paid the big bucks. Oh yeah.