At Times I Am Downright Maniacal

I used to be a cartoonist. Kinda. It’s not like I was a cartoonist and retired or anything, I just don’t do it as much anymore. I rarely just draw for my own enjoyment. It’s sad, but only a little.

Depending on who you ask, I was great. If you ask someone who isn’t my mom they might agree. I think I’m ok. Just ok. And then one day I started clacking out words, stringing them into sentences, those into paragraphs, and soon I was spinning yarns almost daily.

For me, writing is more fulfilling than cartooning. A finished (by my standards) piece takes me a long time. Something like a crisp comic strip takes me even longer. When I write, I can get down more story, more detail, more everything in less time. And I feel like the writing is a lot better, quality wise.

Others have expressed concerns that I’d totally given up on cartoons and drawing. And honestly, outside a few doodles, I was starting to think they were right. But today, for no really great reason I can figure, I started to draw. I didn’t finish the picture, but it’s done enough for right this second to make me happy. I haven’t done a really finished cartoon for my own personal enjoyment since about February.

I don’t think I’ll ever make my own comic book or webcomic or anything, but at least I’m not totally out of the game yet.

And that makes me just a little bit happy.

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