It’s a while since I posted anything here. Let’s just say it’s been a tumultuous road for me the last couple years.

But here I am. I’m back. And I’m drawing again. And it feels good. I’ve been missing it so much and now I just need to get some good habits back in my system.

I was reading a thread on PencilJack and it really hit home with me. Some kid posted that he was out of the illustration game, that he was trying to figure out what to do next, and that he didn’t want advice on how to follow his dreams of becoming an artist. Read the thread for the full picture… it’s a little, uh, whiny. Self-defeatist. Self-pitying.

It was the responses that hit home with me. Because they really reflected my attitude now.

Around 2009 I stopped drawing regularly and with purpose. Aside from doodling on scratch paper at a desk, I’d done a couple pieces here and there for some friends but I had to stop drawing comics and practicing regularly because I became a self-employed musician – I got laid off from my dayjob in 2007, quit a bad job I’d had for about 3 months afterwards, and started teaching drumlines and composing music for schools as my main vocation. It wasn’t a great living and, in order to get paid, I had to work a lot. I was away from home at weird hours, home in the morning either doing chores or writing music, or spending time with my then-wife. I missed drawing comics a lot, but I made the choice of doing something else I loved for a living.

Eventually, due to some personal traumas, financial troubles, and the necessity for a whole new life, I took a sabbatical from teaching – basically, an indefinite break. I miss teaching, but I don’t miss the career game. I won’t go into it, but let’s just say the rewards weren’t worth trying to deal with the drawbacks. Skip ahead to present day and I find myself in a new life. And with that new life I find myself able to draw on a much more regular basis. I’m excited, but also trying to keep my cool.

As I read through the aforementioned PencilJack thread, I was reminded of the time renowned comic artist Paul Smith (a member of the PencilJack forums, by the way) critiqued my portfolio at the San Diego Comic-Con when I was, I think, 18 years old. He pointed out my weaknesses, gave me some tips, and concluded with (and I approximate the quote here), “I’d say you have about 10 years worth of work ahead of you.”

At 18, I found this discouraging. 10 years? 10 years?! I didn’t want to wait 10 years to break into comics!

From 1995 to probably about 2002, I would draw some pages, then I wouldn’t. I was drawing samples pages, yes, but it was a cycle of inconsistency. I spent a lot of time in those years, among other things, playing in a couple bands, pursuing the dream of rock, distracted from focusing on drawing (music, I realize as I write this, is apparently my sexy mistress that I can’t help but sleep with). In, I believe, 2002 I went to another Comic-Con, my first once since I was 18. I had no portfolio. I was there for fun, to volunteer in the film department. At the time, I was in a band that had played several gigs to no audiences and the guitarist had decided that, after we played our final show scheduled in the next couple months, he would leave the band.

When I walked in to that convention center, something happened. Something astounding. I felt like I was home. Like I was with my people. During my visit, I called my then-fiancee to tell her what I’d discovered, and that I, too, was considering quitting the band to draw comics.

And I did.

From 2003 to 2007, I drew a lot. I self-published a couple books for print and posted several web comics while going to conventions. I still couldn’t break in, but that was okay. I was keeping at it. I could see improvement. And looking back on it now, I realized if I’d just applied myself the same way when I was 18, maybe I’d be working. I don’t know how much Paul Smith’s assessment affected me, if at all. It doesn’t matter. I chose my own actions. I could have said, “Screw you, Paul Smith! I’ll do it in one year! I’ll work my ass off!” But I didn’t. I did other things instead. I didn’t focus. It certainly wasn’t Paul Smith and his comments that prevented me from achieving my goals.

During those years when I was drawing a lot I did get frustrated, but I was happy. Fast forward to 2007, when the musical self-employment phase of my life started, the drawing streak ended. When you start making money doing something else you love, your perspective switches rather quickly, especially when you really need that money. But I’d decided that if I ever got the chance to draw comics again, it wouldn’t be with the goal to make money. It would be because I love it. And even though I wasn’t drawing at the time, it was an important moment in my development. In 2009 I tried putting myself through “comics rehab“, where I drew more regularly for a time and did a couple of short projects, but I couldn’t continue due to time. Fast forward again though culinary school (in an attempt to find employment), a divorce, and a few moves, here I am almost 20 years from that critique with Paul Smith. And I’m drawing again.

Paul Smith was wrong. I had more than 10 years of work ahead of me. Because the work I had to do wasn’t technical. It wasn’t my abilities or my skills that really needed the work. I had to reach a point where my mentality allowed me to do the work that would improve my abilities. I had to be personally ready to do the work. Besides, I think what he was really telling me was that I have a lot of work to do, and if I want to be a professional I have to do the work.

I do have goals, but I won’t discuss them here. I’m waiting because I don’t want to get ahead of myself. If I never achieve those goals at least I can enjoy myself as an artist. In the meantime, the purpose of drawing now is to have fun, take my time, get my chops back, improve, and just enjoy the act of drawing.

When I was a kid, I wanted to write and draw for a living. It’s what I wanted to do. It has always been my goal. And I remember wanting to be the youngest person working in comics (which was not likely). The thing was, I wasn’t ready. Mentally, I wasn’t ready.

I’m ready to draw again. I’m ready to write stories for comics again. This doesn’t mean I’ll give up music, but it’s not a priority anymore. It’s a mistress.

It’s really, really good to have illustration as a priority again.