Title Splash: page 10

I've been drawing this comic for nearly a year. It seems I work at a turtle's pace, because I've only been able to average a page per month. Yes, I have been lazy, but finally, after seven pages of exposition and two pages of fake advertising I've hit the title splash.

I'd like to say that it's all downhill from here, but I'd be lying. I can, however, promise myself that I won't be doing any splashes for at least five or six more pages because they require so much more detail than a page full of panels. Counting the advert as two, I've got six splashes total, and that's way too much.

So rather than letting you ask questions, I'm just going to explain a few things...

1) That is smoke coming out the front and back of the car, not bushes.

2) The stuff on the bus that looks like smoke is actually mud (which, if you remember made its first appearance on page 4).

3) The thing that looks like a hole in the bus window is actually the glare from the sun.

Next blog: Taekwondo, Part II (16 Years Later)

The (Fake) Car Ad: Pages 8 and 9

I started this comic on page three (the one with at the bus stop) and upon completion of said page, had no idea where I was going to go after that. As I've been drawing, my ideas for Dick and Kitty have evolved. Without going into all the details, I've decided to make my comic work like an American comic, complete with advertisements, but as a larger manga-style piece.

For those of you familiar with affordable luxury sedans, and the demographic of people their advertising departments target, you'll understand why I chose the name I did.

Unfortunately, several things did not work out the way I planned. My printer does not print white ink (this makes sense, but I had to try anyway) so you are definitely going to see differing shades of black. The grandpa in the picture does indeed look like E.T and the "shattered glass" effect looks like I made the page in the 3rd grade. To be perfectly honest, when all the tools you have are what an elementary school has at its disposal, then sometimes your "craftiness" just looks like "arts and crafts."

Puppies playing in a bucket of raisins,

Jmao

Welcome back, Blogger!

I was chatting with Smithy yesterday while I was at work letting the lower half of my body atrophy. I was about to start again on pages 8 and 9 (coming soon!) of the comic when he questioned my dedication to the blogging world. It went something like this:

Smithy: What's happening with your blog?

Me: (imagining my blog has taken the form of a 19th century American warship and is being fired upon by whores and hedgehogs) What do you mean?

Smithy: You just haven't updated in a long time.

Me: (coming back to reality) Oh, that. Well, I tend to blah, blah, blah, blah...

Smithy: Blah, blah, blah...

Me: Blah...

Smithy: You're a perfectionist, son (little known fact: Smithy sired me).

It's true! Well, only partially true. My perfectionism does break down. I'll work really hard on something for a while and then give up when I realize/consider that someone may not care about something as much as I do, which is, nine times out of ten, par for the course. And of course, I tend to think of bloggers as people who:

• live fulfilling, exciting lives and are thus compelled to write about them
• are much better writers and can convey their thoughts in succinct, witty lines
• smoke pipes, wear bathrobes, own (and frequently use!) ottomans, sip brandy out of snifters, and may or may not have debilitating addictions to opium
• are not me

In short, I think of bloggers as 19th century British literary giants.

The fortunate fact is that bloggers, with the exception of some, rarely lead exciting lives and are thus compelled to write. I'm no exception. Korea is not really that thrilling a place. To be perfectly honest, there are very few places left that really fit the definition (unless you are easily excitable, are visiting one of the seven wonders of the world, or are engaged in a military coup). Also, most bloggers probably don't have opium habits.

But today is a new day, and if the ex-pat bloggers I've been reading can write about their bowel movements and keep my interest*, then I imagine my own mediocre experiences can be riveting to someone**.

On with the show.

*This may be an indication that there is something inherently wrong with me.

**(see *)