I've been making comics ever since I can remember.
They started off as doodles in the margins of my homework in school, became small short stories featuring my friends on inane adventures, and eventually evolved into an emotional and creative outlet for me when times got especially tough. Like when I first moved away from home. That time I got Hodgkin's. That one bad break up. When I dropped a piece of toast that one time and it fell butter side down.
In spite of all of my life's ups, downs, drastic changes, and irreversible dilemmas, the one thing that has stood unwavering for the last decade is this strange, incessant, inexplicable want -- no, need -- to draw jokes, tell stories, and share them with people. The internet seemed to be the perfect platform for me to satisfy this addiction. So when I was 15, I said goodbye to Xanga, got my first domain name, and I built my first website using Microsoft Frontpage. It was terrible, and embarrassing, and contained way more animated GIFs than what was socially acceptable even in 2003. But it was mine.
I went on to go to school for web development, and would eventually get a job at a marketing agency in Vancouver. I learned an incredible amount, and made some lifelong friends along the way, but that itch, man. It was still there. I was still making comics on the side, don't get me wrong, but I could never dedicate as much time to it as I wanted to. For the next few years, I saved. And I saved. I stopped buying LEGO. I stopped going out. I even stopped going to my favourite geriatric strip clubs. Until, finally, I could afford -- to put it eloquently -- my big-ass drawing tablet. I also saved so I could purchase many of the other materials and supplies I figured I would need if I ever decided to do comics full-time. I've been full-time for two years now.
This year, great new things have been happening. I started working on my passion project, Dungeon Construction Co. I started working on my book. I made friends who would gladly draw themselves and me into a comic where their character takes a bullet for my character. And I'd finally reached this point in my art & writing style where I don't hate it two seconds after I publish it. I'd never been in a better place in my life. And this is all before I even started writing the Kickstarter campaign.
Why am I telling you all this?
Since I was young, I've always had a general outline in my mind of how I wanted my life to play out. I knew I wanted to do comics, I knew I wanted to code, I knew I wanted to make a book one day, I knew I would own my own private jet with a built-in hot tub, arcade, and kickball field. (Okay that last one hasn't happened. Yet.)
I'm telling you this because I want to emphasize just how much this means to me, and how grateful I am to you all for providing me with the means to make it happen. And we're so over the Kickstarter goal that you haven't just funded a book. You've funded an entire dream. Thank you.
Geez, this got long.