I was supposed to be the next Charles Schulz or Bill Watterson.
Or so I thought.
In my senior year in high school, I planned to go to art school and become a famous illustrator. I did go to art school, but along the way, I also fell in love with God, and very shortly thereafter, the girl I would marry.
In a sappy attempt to win her heart, I gave her drawings featuring cartoon characters inspired by our childhood photos. Before long, they became stars of a comic strip called Kim & Jason. I was driven to follow in the footsteps of Schulz and Watterson, feeling called to develop it into something that would touch the lives of millions of people.
I put everything into it, publishing a comic strip every day for over six years. Kim and I and a few friends invested thousands of dollars and thousands of hours trying to get it out there. We exhibited at gift shows selling books, prints, and greeting cards to retail shops. I had dreams of a line of figurines, a relationship with Hallmark, and worldwide syndication.
In the end, it did appear in a few small newspapers and we enjoyed some modest wins, but ultimately, we racked up more debt than successes. Meanwhile, the speaking side of our business blossomed and I no longer had time to devote to the comic strip. I made the difficult decision to retire Kim & Jason on January 27, 2007.
It was the right thing to do, but it broke my heart. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I unconsciously adopted the belief that the lack of success with Kim & Jason was proof that art was a waste of time. Overall, I was excited about the way things were headed, and happy to be doing something that was actually working. Quietly, I stopped making art of any kind. All the naysayers who proclaimed that you can’t make a living as an artist seemed to be right.
Eventually, I noticed how much I missed making art. So I permitted myself to begin experimenting, drawing and painting without the pressure of having to be “successful.” It became a Tinker Project that made way for a whole new world of creation.
This new art direction caught the attention of a major New York publisher, who gave me a book deal to write “Penguins Can’t Fly.” One of my great joys was not only writing the book but being able to design it as well, which is a rare privilege in the publishing world. As I was laying it out, I included some old Kim & Jason art and comics that fit the theme perfectly. It was nice to give those old friends a place of honor in this new creation.
In the process of blending old work with the new, I realized something: I wasn’t just creating a book. I was creating a love letter to things in my life that I thought were failures.
Although not financially lucrative, the Kim & Jason chapter of my life made a difference in many lives. It was a crucial period when I was schooled in business and marketing. By spending time every day with those characters in that world, I was able to explore the depths of what I believe about why we need to fight Adultitis and what we can learn from children. And it was the comic strip that led to cartooning workshops, which opened the door to my speaking career. A career that really took off after my tinker project led me to incorporate the new art into my programs.
Kim & Jason wasn’t a failure. It was a foundation.
The older I get, the more affection I have for the things that didn’t work out, because I see how God used them to lead me somewhere better.
It was a mistake to think I should be the next Charles Schulz or Bill Watterson. Similarly, you were not created to be the next “this person” or the next “that person.” You were made to be the one and only you!
I want to encourage you to reconsider the things in your life that have felt like failures and collided with confusion, disappointment, or pain. Maybe they failed to turn out the way you hoped or expected, but is it possible that they became a foundation (or perhaps the fertilizer?) for the better, stronger person you’ve become? Could it be that some relationships, accomplishments, or blessings you now enjoy would never have been possible were it not for the “failures” you endured in your past?
Failing is never particularly fun.
But give your failures a little love, for they often become the foundation for something fantastic.
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