The End Of The Nightmare

The following reflection was written in 2003, when I was between 25 and 26 years old.

The thirtieth day of May 1996, a Thursday, turned out to be the end of the line for the comic book I’d been working on for almost two years. Nightmare had been my follow-up to the five-issue series Blood Red. It was better written and better drawn than that first series but honestly, that wasn’t saying much. On 30 May 1996 I went to a copy shop in Drum Hill and made copies of my pages to send out for consideration to a comic book publishing company that was all about supporting new artists.

The results were not good and landed me nothing more than a nice page of 8.5 x 11 with a few sentences worth of rejection on it. I was fed up with art teachers trying to get me to draw like them and I was fed up with companies and people rejecting this story, which was my baby. For all intents and purposes, my comic book career ended the day the rejection letter arrived.

Of course I’d often drag the Nightmare character out of the abyss and fuck around with him for a while, but I never did anything serious with him again. It seemed nobody was interested in seeing my drawings on the printed page.

I had my band and my writing to keep up with though, and that kept me busy enough not to wallow in self-pity over the end of the career I’d mapped out for myself a couple of years before.