Learning How to Cartoon

There's probably a life metaphor in here somewhere that a future, better version of me will figure out

I have always loved cartoons – strips in the paper, single panel ditties, even the Saturday morning TV kind. 

I often write down ideas for little cartoons and they sit in my notes app or a folder on my desktop for literal years. I never knew what to do with them. I'm not a cartoonist, right? What business do I have making cartoons? And what will I do with them? Share on Instagram to the same 12 people that actually somehow see my posts, none of them being art directors with any means to hire me for a job, which is the main reason for having an art Instagram account?

I've realized that I tend to compartmentalize things to help make sense or keep track of them. In this way, I feel like my life can be split into sections:

• Blissful Unawareness, ages 1-7

• Finding out I'm a child of adultery at 8 and keeping that super secret for the next 14-ish years

• Post-secret coming out around 22, and existing in a fugue¹ until around 30

• My mom dying suddenly during the pandemic, a month after I turned 31

I'm currently in the section I'd probably title "post-mom dying." It's a strange time, but I can find beauty in it. I care less about the shit I don't need to care about: people's opinions of me, my looks in regards to societal standards, over-hustling to make lots of money for the sake of surviving in a crumbling capitalist society. Things like that.

What’s this look like? Well:

• I rarely wear makeup anymore, so when I do (like for a wedding or special event) people think I look extra amazing and it's a nice little ego boost.

• I got laid off in 2022 and had absolutely zero, zilch, nil drive or desire to pursue a new full time salaried job (thank you to my husband's job for healthcare, otherwise I'd change my tune real quick) so I thought....Well, how much do I really need to make per month to get by without prompting daily panic attacks? We live in Iowa now, so it's much more manageable than when we lived in cities. I can slow down and freelance and find what works for me, and still afford rent and groceries.

• My nervous system isn't so nervous anymore. This is purely a hindsight thing. I can see now how city living was exciting in an entertain-me and distract-me way. But when I was forced to slow down and step back and started to take stock of things (after a few years in Iowa, mind you, in a hazy dead-mom-depression state), I realized how much more relaxed I feel now in comparison.

• Imposter syndrome never ends, sorry to report. I'm sure you were hoping for better news on this front.

Where do cartoons fit into all of this? Oh that's right.

I care less now about the order of things, or doing everything "the right way" (which is totally subjective, which is super frustrating). Making things brings me joy, and sharing it extends that joy. Would it be wonderful if all of that resulted in making me lots of money? Of course. But I have absolutely positively no idea how to make that happen. My countless Google searches have yet to provide confirmation, but I think it's one of those things that require secret meetings and sacrificial lambs. 

That said, until I can see my mom again, I need to find joy some other way. So I'm going to make bad cartoons. And bad pottery. And a wonky garden. I'll feel joy at these things that started as a gray scribbly line of thought in my head and now exist as something with shape and structure. I'll keep looking at other cartoonists and see how they do things. I'll apply what I've learned from them to my own practice. I'll get better. I don't have a step after that because I haven't gotten there yet, and I can only report on things I know about.

Here are a few of these early attempts, and what I've learned so far (and probably why they were rejected from The New Yorker lol yes I submitted my very first attempts at cartoons to THE NEW YORKER I have always been idealistic).

Hard to laugh when you’re terrified

I jotted down the concept for this a few years ago, when it seemed more like a humorous stretch than actual reality. Now it just isn't remotely funny. Those living in the MAGA bubble are an actual threat to many lives. 

Just now realizing that this is me, an agnostic "bless you"-er with questionable fashion choices.

This one is probably confusing to read correctly? I just love the idea of the little dog saying “ah-choo.”

This one… is actually perfect. No notes.

Don’t worry, it’s not lost on me that all of these are God-related. I’m sure a therapist would dissect it more eloquently, but I can acknowledge that yes, I am working through my Catholic Upbringing née Traumatization² and it appears a lot in my work!

Did I throw off your schedule, sending a newsletter on Friday instead of Sunday this week? Well, baby I’m a firework. I felt like being showy and a little bit underwhelming.

1. I looked this up to make sure I was using it right. Fugue means “a state or period of loss of awareness of one's identity, often coupled with flight from one's usual environment.”

2. CUnT, for short