Hi Everyone,

First I want to say I’m Canadian.

Then I want to say I’m sorry.

Not that I’m the kind of Canadian that says sorry very often, but in this case I feel I have to. At Christmas I decided I needed a break, get ahead on the deadlines and stop working past twelve to finish a strip when I have to get up at 5:40 am. I didn’t want to tell you guys because I’ve seen webcomic guys make a fuss and do the woe is me thing and I hated it as a reader and as a creator.

Two weeks, no big deal. But it wasn’t the relief I was expecting. Without a deadline I wasn’t able to concentrate. Could still think of strips but couldn’t think of jokes. So I let another week slip. Then another. Then I was embarrassed about it. I’ve never tripped up like that before, whether it was writing novels, drawing whatever, or working on the strip. Just couldn’t focus. Couldn’t get the jokes into my head.

Every week I’d say next week would be the week. Then it wasn’t. But now? Now it is. I hope. I’ve got all the strips done for this week. And in struggling with them I’ve gotten ideas for next week’s strips again.

No, that’s wrong, that’s not how this strip works. Essentially I know what the strip is, and I know what the payoff is, but I never know what the punchline is until halfway through the drawing phase. Then I see it. Often I change it to something better, but it’s roughly the same joke.

These last three months I’d think of a strip and then I’d think of the panels and then I’d think of the punchline but I’d never laugh. Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s narcissistic to laugh at your own jokes but I justify that by calling them improv jokes. Which they are and are not. They’re following a structure but the structural setup leads to a structured punchline but what I do is twist that punchline subconsciously, like there’s a little man in the back of my head rewriting me on the fly. And when he makes me laugh, I know it’s right.

So he made me laugh last week and that’s given me the confidence to get back in the saddle. We’ll see how it goes.

As for those asking if I’m okay; I’m great. Truly. Lovely wife, two great kids, decent job, decent house. It’s all good. Just rocked by a lowering of creativity I’ve never felt before.

Oh! And I’ve got news: We’re expecting our third child in a few months.

Thank you for your concerns,

But most of all, and as always,

Thank you for reading,

Steve

Many things in this strip are planned well in advance and one of those things was the reveal of Jen Rose being a Violist. This probably dates back six to eight years so bear with me as I try to explain the line of thought.

I knew she was a talented musician but I also knew she didn’t want to display those talents and the question became why. Pop stars who can play a modicum of piano will display that medioc-sorry-modicum at the drop of a hat so why would Jen hide her talent and the instrument she played?

The obvious answer was a wind instrument but even if she played a ‘funny’ instrument like a tuba she could have focused her attention on a similar instrument that utilized the same mechanics (saxophone, flute, whatever) but that didn’t feel right. Partly because I was already planning on using that gag for Rick (the flugelhorn). Yes, the whole point was to draw a parallel between them but similar is better than the same.

Nothing felt right because there is no reason to hide any extremely high level of ability.

But then a nugget floated up out of my subconscious. Something my music teacher told me about in grade three or four when she was introducing us to the various instruments. That the Viola is lower than the Violin but played in exactly the same manner yet is made fun of the most by those in the orchestra. That made no sense to me so I asked about it and I pushed a bit. She seemed a bit embarrassed by it but it wasn’t what she believed just what she’d been told.

That stuck with me. Why? Maybe because I was the brunt of most of the jokes in my class (be the youngest, be one of the smallest, be one of the smartest, see how that works out for you) but also because it played to my preferences.

Personally, as a fan of country music, I’ve always liked hearing the fiddle in a song, but at the same time felt it was too high. Too sprightly. If one goes over the line it becomes physically painful to listen to. So a lower instrument that could be played in the exact manner as a fiddle appealed to me.

But then the question became could a Viola be used in popular music? Back when I first came up with that question there was no way to check but with the internet exploding with oddness and creativity there was an easy answer when I saw a guy on YouTube called Jeremy Green. A Violist who did Viola-centric versions of pop hits.

The Viola popped. Worked beautifully. Sounded great. Enough of a unique sound to stand out but familiar enough that it wasn’t jarring at all (I listen to a lot of Mongolian folk metal and some of those instruments can stand out in a bad way due to my initial unfamiliarity to them).

A little fact. A little nugget. Crossed with story elements. Subconscious mind. Half remembered arguments. A nagging feeling. And then it all comes together and feels right. One of the best things about doing this strip and doing anything creative.

This may have been a bit pedantic but I thought some might find a look into my process interesting.

People, including other writers, have told me I’m weird because I can process and remember and work through how an idea originated, changed, adapted, and then fit but I don’t mind being weird.

And some of these deep dives into my memory can be downright fun.

Thanks for reading,

Steve

This is hard for me to do, I’m a highly critical person who is seldom satisfied and I have a deep seated aversion to listening to a sales pitch but I feel like I need to make something clear.

I love this comic.

I love writing Rick Dodge. I love writing Jen Rose. You would not believe how much I love writing Rick’s Ma. Every month I read over the previous month’s work and while when I’m doing them I think they’re good, when I’m reading them I think they’re great.

A deeply philosophical comic about the nature of criticism and the role of the critic balanced against the morality play that is humanity with an underlying meta-message about the nature of comic strips. That sounds overly complicated, and maybe it is, but I don’t care.

Why? Because I love this comic. I think it’s funny, I think it’s (occasionally) wise, I think it’s (very occasionally) sweet. It is what I hoped it would become when I started drawing it in 2009. And more.

Selling the comic is not what I’m good at, communicating my love for it actually embarrasses me in a way. As if I’m being narcissistic to have such a high regard for my own work. But I know I’m wrong about that. You need to be enthused for your own work if you want others to be enthused.

So I wanted to say this for posterity and I promise to say more of this in the future; I smile when I check the strip the day after uploading, I laugh often when I read it after a month, I like the character designs, I like the cheesecake, I like the insanity of the kids, I like this comic and I’m glad you guys have been so loyal despite my often long stretches of not talking to you.

It isn’t that I’m shy, exactly, though I can be, it’s that I believe the work should speak for itself and I think it can do that. You don’t need to read anything but the strip to understand and enjoy the strip. But this is meant to be read, it’s good enough to be read, it looks nice enough to be read, I have nothing to be embarrassed about, or shy about, and now I’m asking for something from you guys:

Please share this comic, tweet it out, post it to facebook, tell your friends and family, share the link, I want it to get bigger. Not for money reasons, but because I think it should be read. Because it’s good. Really good.

I hope you agree, I hope you like it as much as I do, I hope you share it with friends and family.

And I want to say one thing more as clearly as I possibly can; I sign off every comment and every post with the same thing and for the same reason every time. The words ‘thank you for reading’. And I say that not because I need something to say but because I mean it. Every time. I appreciate you guys.

Normally I make a joke as I end a blog post but I won’t be doing that this time because I refuse to undercut my own message with a self-deprecating joke.

Instead I’m going to end this the way I always have and always will.

With absolute sincerity:

Thank you for reading,

Steve