I used to make comics as a kid. Lots of comics. All the time. If I wasn’t eating or sleeping, that’s what I was doing.

Now that I’m older (or at least taller), I wrote a comic called The Forever Maps and found an amazing artist named Todor Hristov to work with. We pitched it to some publishers, and we even got an offer. Unfortunately, most publishers won’t pay the creative team up front to do the work, and the ones that do won’t often take chances on up-and-coming creators. Long story short, we decided to do it ourselves; but the truth is, we’re not really doing it ourselves, because you can help us!

We are running a campaign for The Forever Maps, and we are hoping that people are intrigued enough to make a pledge towards it. We are not asking for donations; we are asking you to order our graphic novel in advance. The story is about a man, torn between family and immortality, struggling to choose between living forever and having a life worth living. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever read and the artwork is incredible.

If you’ve never used Kickstarter before, it takes five minutes and a credit card to pledge. It’s super easy. Their site is secure and your personal information is never shared with anyone. We have various levels of pledge amounts, and each level will get you different rewards. For only $10 you get a complete digital version of the comic.

When it’s done, we will have a product that will help us when approaching publishers with new projects. Once you see what we can do, so will they, and honestly, that will change everything for us!

I used to make comics as a kid, and today, I still want to. So please, if you can spare 5 minutes and 10 dollars, consider spending it on us.

Thank you!

How to use Kickstarter in five easy steps!

Continued…

Last week, Charlotte and I were walking along a trail by the water, when she saw a stick jutting out from the bush. Now, the stick in question isn’t the same stick pictured here, because that’s a completely different stick; this stick was more like a tree. Long, twisted, and extremely appealing to one of us.

Charlotte’s not usually allowed to pick up sticks because she gnaws on them until they’re toothpicks, but I knew it was way too big. So I let her.

She got a firm grip on it and reefed and yanked and pulled as hard as she could. To my surprise, it budged. Just a little. Enough to see that it was caught up on some other branches and twigs, firmly holding it in place.

In my experience, most dogs would just keep reefing and yanking and pulling until they were exhausted. That’s what I expected Charlotte to do. But then, to my surprise, she didn’t. She went to each of the branches and twigs that was holding it in place, and snapped them near the base. Then she went back and with only a little reefing, yanking, and pulling, got the tree out of the bush.

Not entirely, of course, because I’m telling you, it was huge. But enough to remind me that when there’s something in your way, there’s always a simple way to move it.

This has been a year of many firsts, too many to count. It won’t be long until a whole new year of firsts begins. In this past year, the lesson I’ve learned the hardest is to keep on. No matter what, you have to keep on. Catch your breath, keep digging in, and push. The only way to get there.

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions often but this year I want to. I’ve got some things I need to help me dig in, to help me push.

In any case, one of the vaguely-mentioned firsts was the pooch in this photo. Her name is Charlotte, and she wishes you a happy holidays and all the best in 2015. Catch those breaths. And push.

Been busy with my t’s and i’s these past weeks as pages came flying in from Mr. Hristov. We’ve been cooking something special, him and I, and it’s about time to serve it up. Fingers crossed we get a bite.

I’m pleased with my focus lately. For years I floated along with no particular direction, writing what came to mind and finding satisfaction in that. Then came a point when I realized that time was passing. With guidance, I began to set out a path for myself, which I believe will lead to a career in creativity. This site is among those steps. Part practice, part exposure, part fun, but entirely focused. I see the end of this path, but if I stray from it, even for a moment, I may lose sight of it forever.

Life isn’t always easy. It used to be, but it wasn’t nearly this meaningful. And now it’s not that life is hard, but the realization of what I must accomplish and the realization that I must do it alone. Hold my own hand, hold my own feet to the fire, hold myself accountable for any more time that passes by.

There are a few things on this site that I’d never properly considered incorporating before. One of those things is comics. Serious comics, like the ones I intend to make a living from, adapted from earlier ideas and interpreted by artists. I’m keeping them brief, for now. Another thing that I’d never considered before is a list of my professional services. It’s funny, but I’d been doing similar things for a decade and it never occurred to me that my skills could benefit anyone else. (They can.)

So this is where it begins, I imagine. With focus. Determination. And opening myself up to any number of possibilities that worried me before. There’s no time for fear, not anymore, because I simply refuse to float any longer. Here I am, and here is this site, and here is what I can do. I hope you enjoy it.

My alarm vibrates against my ankle.

5 am.

My instinct is to snooze, but I remind myself:

Discipline.

I get up, have cereal, pack my lunch, kiss I. goodbye. I have to leave by 5:25, but today I was late, so I had to pedal faster. My goal is to reach work before 6, so that when I’m off before 2, I can focus on other things I have to do. Things that will help my overall goal, things that will help me succeed creatively.

Updating this site is not among those things.

Not due to idleness, but discipline.

I’ve been thinking about important conversations lately. Presently in my Great Big Project, a main character is having one of those Important Conversations. Once this conversation is over, the climax will unfold, and shortly after that, it will all conclude. I’m fairly certain how the story will end, and I’m equally certain that a fair amount of what I want to say will be left out.

It’s a minor torment. This story has been on my mind for nearly seven years, and in that time I’ve thought of many details. It feels like a shame to have wasted that time, though I do understand that it wasn’t all a waste. Many details have now become unnecessary, except to explain the backstory, which leaves me with ample material to work from if I ever have to write a prequel. I hope not to.

We never really know when one of these Important Conversations will happen, do we? Nobody tells you at the time, so it’s not until perhaps years later when you realize the impact it had.

I’m going to be busier than usual these upcoming few months. As excited as I am, the thought that I’ll have less time to work on this nearly-completed project is frustrating. I can nearly see the end. It’s right there.