The Hardest Thing I Have To Write

No more denial.

Ever since I was really young — let’s say my teens — I have dreamed of having my own comic. Manga and anime were a big part of my youth, and I would spend hours drawing up my own characters and ideas late into the night. When I learned about webcomics, my heart soared; I found exactly what I wanted to be!!

Comics became a lifelong obsession. I collected them. I drew them. I talked with people about them. I met my best friend through a webcomic community over 5 years ago and I have no idea where I would be without them and everyone else I have met. I know this seems long-winded. I know you want me to get to the point. I’m trying to say that webcomics have been my entire personality for over a decade. I have loved working on them but have been searching for something to finally feel right. Just a few days ago, I made a post about finally being where I am supposed to be. I felt such happiness —I was over the MOON; at last, I knew my purpose and what I wanted to do and see through!! It’s been so long since I have felt such joy!!

And this is the part that hurts.
This is the part I don’t want to admit to myself, let alone others.

I cannot make a comic.

Here, at the starting line of the race I have trained my entire life for, I must walk away before it even begins. There is no way to describe how this feels. To finally be here, to almost taste it. I drew 2 beautiful pages and posted them — the comic started and will be set down within the same week … and that feels like a cruel joke. I’m gutted. At 36, I feel like my mid-life crisis has arrived with the worst gift it could have:

A fucking reality check.

I’ll be honest with you guys: webcomics are oftentimes extremely slow. The manga and comics on the shelves in stores are made by teams of people. Webcomics are often handled by just one person. It’s a challenge, and I’m sad to say that with my body’s decline … I am not up to it. I have spent the past 3 years forcing myself to hunch over my tablet despite a literal tear in my spine so that I could get to this point, so that I could finally understand what I want to work on … and it’s too late.

To draw all Gravedigger and all I want for it, I would need 40 healthy years. I would need to not have so many of my problems — the spinal tear, the depression, the autism, the being a system, etc. — just so I could do it every day. Before the tear made me slow down, I was already drawing for almost 18 hours a day. That is why my art is where it is, now. Because I pushed and pushed and almost broke my body entirely doing it. Now? I only have about 6 hours a day to do what I need and want due to the pain in my back.

I’m not going to torture myself through making Gravedigger in what I initially envisioned because it is not possible. Not in the way I would want. I want to show people my worlds with full color, with extra details, with love and secrets packed in every panel. I physically cannot handle this task. I mentally cannot handle this task.

I feel like in every other instance of realizing this, it would completely and utterly destroy me … but I am fortunate enough to have come to this conclusion on the tail-end of something that I know is going to change my life for the better overall.

My wife very kindly sat me down last night after reading a snippet of my writing of about 3000 words about some of the Gravedigger characters sitting down for a meal, and she told me one of the most important things I think she could have. She was honest. For the first time, she felt like I was in a place where she could tell me this without my crumbling — and she didn’t sugarcoat anything.

”Your art is amazing … but your writing is better. You need to write this.”

I knew that she was right. We talked for a long time about the things I have written so far: I don’t have a team, Gravedigger is so long, my style is time-consuming, my back is getting worse, I don’t give myself time for anything else. I thought this conversation would utterly ruin me, but it didn’t. Instead, I felt such an intense … relief. My workload suddenly vanished in an instant, and I slept better last night that I have in I think over 3 years.

I need to make this clear: I’m not giving up on digital art.
I still want to illustrate parts of Gravedigger.

And that is what they will be: illustrations. I am going to write Gravedigger as novels and illustrate the really cool parts. I still plan on making a book! It’s just going to be … very different. And, honestly? Probably way more amazing.

I cannot deny that I feel a certain sadness with giving up this wild dream of being the creator of a beloved comic … but I also cannot deny the overwhelming peace at not needing to put my body through all the work. I still want to draw things, but I won’t have to draw every single day. I have time, now, for other things — streaming, games, books, art of others that I enjoy. It feels bittersweet, I think. I’m unsure of who I am going to become and that is scary!! But it’s also … a road that I really want to travel.

I want to thank everyone who supported me in my dream of making these comics. Thank you. Thank you ever so much; you really do have my heart, and I am sorry that I ultimately waited too long to focus on the right thing.

I have to do things that my body and mind can actually handle … and that means acknowledging that some of my dreams are not inside that category.

I’ve been Hux.
See you soon.