Here it is, the last page of Chapter 2. Like the last page of Chapter 1, I’m unhappy with my paint-job. Meh.
I wanted to make it clear that the previous 11 pages were a dream before we got to the bit where Westley wakes up in the sleeping bag, because I didn’t want a cheap “Dallas” ending. I’ll admit that the bloody antler on the cover was a tease, but I was feeling bad about that, so that’s why I tried to make the dream sequence obvious–limited palette, no sound effects or dialogue, the Mom glowing and floating, Westley running hard but not actually going anywhere, etc. Did everybody get that?
So now I’m going to take a month to finish the script for Chapter 3, get Chapter 2 prepped for the printer, and get the character pages put together for the parents. The plan will be to have the Chapter 3 cover up on October 11 and then keep rolling from there. Over the next few weeks I’ll be posting sketches, doodles, and whatnot, so please keep checking back.
Ok, so here’s some personal stuff. My twin sister and I were adopted. We’ve talked for years about looking up our birth parents and just finally got around to actually researching. We have gotten some non-identifying info and now know that our birth-mother was 39 and our birth-father was 37. Turning 40 today puts them in their late 70s, so I’m feeling guilty/anxious/dumb for not getting this ball rolling a lot earlier. Hopefully the original birth certificates will come through soon and we can go to the next step.
Growing up, our parents never kept the fact that we were adopted a secret from us. I don’t even remember ever finding out–we were adopted at only a couple months old, and Mom and Dad just talked about it for as long as I can remember. Seeing characters on TV and in movies that find out later in life that they were adopted–it just never made any sense to me. Why keep it a secret? Also, the adoptees who feel that their birth-parents somehow abandoned them–I don’t get that either. Seems to me that they were the ones faced with this difficult choice and they made the decision that they thought was best for us. Maybe my feelings on this are influenced by our adoptive family. They love us and cared for us, so I can’t look at the birth parents and say, “How could you do this to me?!” They did us a favor.
Seems strange to be this close to finding the answers to these questions I’ve wondered about my whole life. Glad I have a twin to go through this with.