I fell in love with New Yorker cartoons in a doctor’s office waiting room, thumbing through The magazine. It was 2002 and I was 13 years old. I was in-and-out of doctors’ offices that year after a freak accident left me with a broken neck – a fractured C3 – from which I recovered nicely.
Almost 19 years later, I’m making my own New Yorker-style cartoons in-and-out of my spare time. I use an Apple Pencil, an iPad and my sense of humor to make them. While I haven’t gotten any published in the magazine (yet), I’m still the kid with an appointment, confident that good things come to those who wait.
Meanwhile I share my cartoons for the souls biding their time, thumbing through Instagram – and so I may nab a little validation.
