Gar! I am very lucky that you are a continued presence in my life. I'm not good at responding to such high praise, other than to say that there are no announcers to tell me if I'm hitting something out of the park. I just know that I am incapable of of knowing what will resonate with people. I have to just make what I like. If I try to m…
Gar! I am very lucky that you are a continued presence in my life. I'm not good at responding to such high praise, other than to say that there are no announcers to tell me if I'm hitting something out of the park. I just know that I am incapable of of knowing what will resonate with people. I have to just make what I like. If I try to make what I think other people will like, it will suck and suck badly.
I started making comics when I was ten and sent my first batch of comics to syndicates when I was 13, which was very cute, but I don't seem to have any other skills. I'm stuck with this form of expression.
The real winner was James Thurber. My god, he was great. He got to cartoon AND write. He went blind, of course, but it was fun while it lasted.
To explain the “outta the ballpark remark”: Sometimes your strip Hits the Nail on the Head. Your essay on taking weeks to work toward a known idea explain some of those occurances. Not all of them. Here is why I give a lot of credit to your work ethic plus your innate talents. Sometimes, a few panels into your strip, I wonder, will he make something out of this one today? Then, phantom punch, swat, it’s outta there (mixed sports metaphor, I know) When I use Outta or Gonna or something colloquial like that, Sorta, I’m signalling that I know I have just used stodgey language in a lighthearted medium and I’m deflating that. I am asking that no one blames this fine artist of Adult Children when I weigh in on and weigh down the scene he’s created.
I didn't see this. You kind of described the writing process, there. When things go well, I get to go over and over it to keep myself on track. The language is almost musical. Ba dum, ba dum dum. Doesn't work. Dum dum, dum ba dum. Kind of works. Ba dum, ba dum, dum dum. There we go. Hard to describe. It involves paying attention to the language and making a point, no matter how lame. Decades ago, I heard people compare writing comic strips to short poems, and I thought that was a little too highfalutin, but I get it now. Sometimes I don't get where I'm going until the fifth rewrite. Other times, I figure it out six months after it didn't work. Then I get to do it again because nobody remembers the comic that didn't work.
Gar! I am very lucky that you are a continued presence in my life. I'm not good at responding to such high praise, other than to say that there are no announcers to tell me if I'm hitting something out of the park. I just know that I am incapable of of knowing what will resonate with people. I have to just make what I like. If I try to make what I think other people will like, it will suck and suck badly.
I started making comics when I was ten and sent my first batch of comics to syndicates when I was 13, which was very cute, but I don't seem to have any other skills. I'm stuck with this form of expression.
The real winner was James Thurber. My god, he was great. He got to cartoon AND write. He went blind, of course, but it was fun while it lasted.
To explain the “outta the ballpark remark”: Sometimes your strip Hits the Nail on the Head. Your essay on taking weeks to work toward a known idea explain some of those occurances. Not all of them. Here is why I give a lot of credit to your work ethic plus your innate talents. Sometimes, a few panels into your strip, I wonder, will he make something out of this one today? Then, phantom punch, swat, it’s outta there (mixed sports metaphor, I know) When I use Outta or Gonna or something colloquial like that, Sorta, I’m signalling that I know I have just used stodgey language in a lighthearted medium and I’m deflating that. I am asking that no one blames this fine artist of Adult Children when I weigh in on and weigh down the scene he’s created.
I didn't see this. You kind of described the writing process, there. When things go well, I get to go over and over it to keep myself on track. The language is almost musical. Ba dum, ba dum dum. Doesn't work. Dum dum, dum ba dum. Kind of works. Ba dum, ba dum, dum dum. There we go. Hard to describe. It involves paying attention to the language and making a point, no matter how lame. Decades ago, I heard people compare writing comic strips to short poems, and I thought that was a little too highfalutin, but I get it now. Sometimes I don't get where I'm going until the fifth rewrite. Other times, I figure it out six months after it didn't work. Then I get to do it again because nobody remembers the comic that didn't work.