I owe my first published work to Andrew Goletz. And that's a big deal because I realized I was no longer a frustrated writer. I was now a fully accomplished (although pennyless) comic book writer.
Andrew wanted an entire volume about hope. It took me a while to come up with a story about this particular virtue. My lack of hope was evident: after all I didn’t even think people would actually write and draw all the wonderful stories included in that anthology. There was a moment when I thought, hell, I better stick to drawing and be done with it. But then I realized that I was first and foremost a writer. And that finding hope in us, as a group, could help me create the right story.
In the end I don’t know if I succeeded or not. It’s up to the reader to make that call. And that’s all I have to say as a writer.
What is hope in the end? An abstract concept or rather the force that prevent us from languishing in a situation in which our success is never guaranteed? I would venture to say that hope is also this: creation. And this anthology was, after all, the best example of hope one could find.
