rocks paper cynic

The Rock, Paper, Cynic 2016 Annual Report

It’s been 117 days since I quit my job to make creative things full-time, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.

So here’s my best effort at writing a 2016 annual report.

To the 200,000 people who read comics on my website, thanks for taking the time to visit. To the millions who read one of my cartoons on social media because someone shared it, thanks for taking a chance on something weird.

To the 90 people who backed me on Patreon, thanks for placing your bets on a guy most of you have never met. I’m trying to make something special, and I can’t tell you what it means for you to have my back.

To the 20 people who put me up in their homes when I was touring, thank you for your couches and guest beds. That’s 44 nights I got to spend with friends new and old instead of in lonely hotel rooms. You saved me some $8,000 in accommodations and even let me borrow toothpaste when I forgot it.

To the 21 people who helped me with merch tables at conventions and concerts, thank you. You made the 300 hours I spent at conventions infinitely more enjoyable and got thousands of total strangers excited about a silly webcomic they had no reason to care about until they met you.

To the 11 people who drove me to and from cons, concerts and flights, thank you. We logged 85 hours of road trip time, and your music choices were impeccable (not to mention you saved me some $3,000 in airfare and taxis).

To the 18 people who took me on for freelance work, thank you. I honestly can’t tell you how incredibly flexible and patient you’ve been accommodating my madcap convention schedule. I appreciate everything you’ve taught me, and continue to teach me, as I learn the ropes.

To 2016–a year with many, many faults–thank you for teaching me how powerful it is to be surrounded by people who give a shit about me and what I do. Any success I’ve had I owe to the army of benevolent humans who shared their time, love and money without expecting a goddamn thing in return.

To you, the one who is still reading this ridiculously long message, thank you. Whether or not we’ve met, you’ve helped me build one of the best possible lives I can imagine living. You’ve given me more than I could ever repay with my comics and songs and Star Wars dad jokes. You help me expect more and better things from the world, just by being in it.

All of this is to say thank you, I love you, and oh hey would you mind if I crash on your couch for a bit?

No one told me

When I started making comics, no one told me all the nights I’d lose to the glare of a monitor trying to make one stupid joke work just a tiny bit better.

No one told me how I would doubt myself every day, no matter how many people told me they liked what I was making.

No one told me I would lose sleep and friends and sanity trying to do all of the things all of the time.

But also, no one told me the incredible friends I would make based only on our shared love of the same improbable corner of the Internet.

No one told me the rush I’d feel when a word clicks into place, ready to take on a new life in someone else’s head.

No one told me how sweet that moment would be just before a new post goes up and spills a new idea, however silly, out over the world.

No one told me, and for that, I’m unspeakably grateful. Because it’s meant everything to me to find out for myself.

Everything I need to know about life, I learned from Majora’s Mask.

Time is a funny thing. As of today, I have been making Rock, Paper, Cynic for seven years. Seven years that have totally changed my life.

I truly hope I’ve had the chance to give you something that’s stuck with you in that time. I know that for my part, you’ve made this a rewarding and wild ride. Thanks for standing by the comic all this time.