Issue 201
It was 2002, I was 25 years old and I had walked out of a Kinkos copy center carrying a box of paper that I had no idea would change my life forever. In the next few paragraphs I’m going to tell you how a simple creative project altered my life’s trajectory, how it relates to an eighth-century Japanese Shinto purification practice, and how you’ll never let a year slip past you without accomplishing something of worth.
In order to get to all of that we need to rewind to 1992. I was in junior high and an idea in my sketchbook sparked something in me. I created a character called Missile Mouse that was everything I loved about my favorite childhood heroes rolled into one: part Rocketeer, part Rescue Rangers, with a dash of Space-Man Spiff, all dropped into a Star Wars-like universe. Every year growing up, I’d draw him—posing, adventuring, looking cool—but I never actually put him into a story.
That changed in my early 20s. I decided it was time to dust off Missile Mouse and finally draw a full comic book for him—a real story, not just sketches. I wasn’t confident in my writing skills, so I pitched the idea to a writer friend, and he came back with a script. Armed with the story, I started working on the comic nights and weekends, pouring everything I had into it.
What I didn’t realize was that this project would become an exercise in making something impossible. Every single page stretched me—pushing my character drawing, environment design, composition, and storytelling further than they’d ever been pushed before. By the time I finished, I was exhausted but exhilarated. I remember laying all 24 pages out on the floor, just staring at them, amazed that I had actually done it.
But the challenge didn’t end there. I still had to figure out how to turn those pages into a book. That meant designing a cover, a back cover, and all the additional pieces that make a comic complete. It forced me to stretch my graphic design skills in ways I hadn’t expected. Eventually, I got it done—50 copies printed at Kinko’s. And when I handed one to Jeff Smith, the creator of Bone, at Comic-Con, his enthusiasm for the book made all the effort feel worthwhile.
Looking back, I realize that making that comic was my first creative misogi.
What is a Creative Misogi?
There's a Japanese Shinto practice called misogi which literally translates to "water cleansing." Misogi involves ritual purification of the mind, body, and spirit through physical and mental challenges. In practice, people do a yearly pilgrimages to frigid waterfalls, lakes, and rivers and cleanse themselves in them. The aim is to scrub yourself clean of the contamination caused by modern conveniences.
In recent years there's been a growing base of people who have adopted elements of the misogi practice to give them a single memorable experience each year in nature that not just challenged them, but pushed them farther than they've ever been able to go before. These are year defining experiences like climbing a mountain, running a marathon, biking across a state, or in one wild example, a group of guys took turns carrying an 85 pound rock underwater along the coast of Santa Barbara Island.
The idea is simple: when you look back on your life, and someone asks, “What did you do in 2024?” you might not remember the small day-to-day moments—but you’ll remember your misogi.
This got me thinking: what if we applied the concept of misogi to creativity?
I suggest that each year, you take on a creative misogi.
I’ve unknowingly practiced this for about 25 years, but now I have a name for it. The idea is to set a creative challenge for yourself each year—something that pushes you beyond your limits, changes you, and defines the year.
Examples of creative Misogis might be something like:
Complete all 30 days of an art challenge
Do a 12 episode podcast about a subject that you find fascinating
Make a short film
Design a board game
Draw a graphic novel
Make 100 drawings of a single subject matter
Design a website
Paint a whole set of Warhammer 40K miniatures
The 3 Rules of a Creative Misogi:
Rule 1: Make it creative
The root word of creative is create. Not revise. Not remix. Not update, reboot, or rehash. Your creative misogi should put something into the world that hasn't been seen before. Make it unique, and special to you. It should be the kind of thing that could only come from you and no one else.
Rule 2: Make it uncomfortable
It has to push you to the edge and beyond your current comfort zone. There should be a chance of failure. Through the process of doing this challenge you discover new potential in yourself that was previously unlocked.
Rule 3: Make it contained
Your creative misogi should have a finished created thing at the end of it. Something you can hand to someone. Something you send a link to. Something a person can experience. Something that has a beginning, middle, and end.
The purpose of this is simple: too often, we push off our creative dreams, thinking we’ll be more prepared next year. But one year turns into five, then ten, and before we know it, we’re haunted by what we never attempted when we had the time and energy to do it.
When I think about that first Missile Mouse comic, it wasn’t perfect, but it changed me. It taught me how to finish something hard, how to push through discomfort, and how to grow as an artist. Because of that simple comic I was introduced to a community of comic artists, who would lead me to making my own graphic novels. Since then I’ve created comics for Random House, Marvel, and Scholastic. Missile Mouse even ended up getting a two-book deal through Scholastic’s imprint Graphix.
That’s the point of a creative misogi: to wash away apathy and hesitation, to leave you more decisive, ambitious, and capable of tackling the next big challenge.
Something to think about....
1) What was the last project you completed that truly pushed you out of your comfort zone?
2) Are there any dream projects you’ve been putting off because you don’t feel ready?
3) If you were to take on a creative misogi this year, what would it be?
-Jake
Firstly, I love Missile Mouse. Just sayin'. What a sassy-looking character! Also, thank you for introducing me to the concept of Misogi. I agree with you that we should all strive to achieve Misogi every year!
I still have that ashcan. Good stuff, Jake