The Artist’s Journey: From Sketchbooks to Stories

The journey of an artist is rarely smooth. In fact, it’s often turbulent—at least that’s been the case for many of the artists I’ve spoken to. Most of us start with a day job, something steady to pay the bills, even when we know deep down our hearts aren’t really in it.

I don’t hate my day job. In fact, I do my best to perform well—not out of love for the work, but out of loyalty to the people I work with. I don’t want to let anyone down. But once the workday ends, the rest of my time is devoted to family—helping my wife and kids with their lives, their projects, their needs. Weekends get swallowed up by housework and other responsibilities. And then, late at night, I finally find a few quiet moments for the one thing my heart truly craves: art.

Finding Time and Building Skill

It started, as it often does, with sketchbooks. Doodles. Scribbles. Just enough to scratch the itch. Over time, I invested in better tools, better techniques, and before I realized it, I had gotten pretty good. Maybe not quite professional, not yet—but good enough. Good enough to wonder: Could someone actually want to buy this?

That’s when the dream began to take shape. Not to be rich or famous. Just to escape the need for a day job. To wake up and spend my time doing what I love most: creating.

The Dream Evolves

But what did I actually want to create?

I knew I was going to draw, regardless of what life looked like. And with time passing, I knew I couldn’t afford to wait. I needed to focus. While I love comics and novels, I eventually landed on the perfect blend: graphic novels.

What’s beautiful about graphic novels is that you get to make your own rules. You decide the rhythm, the style, the mood. I began to write a story with gothic themes and supernatural elements, but my engineer's brain needed internal logic—structure within the fantasy. So I created a codex: a foundational document, an origin story that explains how this universe came to be. I may never publish it, but it’s the backbone of everything I now write and draw.

All of this—every sketch, every note—existed for one reason: to give myself something worth drawing.

When Life Intervenes

Of course, life has its own plans. The creative path rarely moves in a straight line. My project took several twists and turns, and eventually I found myself creating something adjacent to the main story: a supporting book.

That book expanded into an entire universe. What started as one graphic novel turned into a planned series of seven, accompanied by three supporting books.

So what are these supporting books? I call them “The Nocturnal Journals.” They’re poetic works with eerie, haunting themes—mostly centered on death, but more in the spirit of "scary stories" than sorrow.

Inspiration in Unexpected Places

The idea for these books came from many places. Most memorably, from a poem my sister used to recite to me as a child:

One dark night,

Two dead boys stood up to fight.

Back-to-back they faced each other,

Drew their swords and shot each other.

A deaf policeman heard the noise,

Came and shot the two dead boys.

And if you don't believe my story,

Ask the blind man—he saw it all.

I later learned there were many versions of this poem, including one featured in The Haunting in Connecticut. That, along with books like Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, rekindled my love for eerie, poetic storytelling.

The final spark came from a conversation with my son-in-law. He was flipping through my sketchbook and called it “the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.” Not a visual artist himself, he was fascinated by the way my sketches and writings merged—how it functioned like a visual journal.

That conversation helped me realize that while raw sketchbooks are chaotic and personal, they can evolve into something more meaningful—more organized, more intentional. Something publishable.

A Book Is Born

All those influences—childhood poems, spooky stories, personal sketches—culminated in a book called The Witching Hour. It’s a collection of dark poetry. Some of it ties into my larger universe, but much of it is deeply personal, reflecting real events and emotions from my life.

Finishing it was intimidating. It’s raw. Vulnerable. But it’s done. And that, more than anything, feels like success.

I don’t expect to make a fortune. That was never the goal. The real aim was to give purpose to the art—to build a place for it to live, beyond the pages of a sketchbook.

The True Goal: Freedom

Yes, I’d love to make money from my work. To one day say, “I pay my bills with my art.” But even that isn’t the endgame.

Actor Matthew McConaughey once said, “Money is not the goal. Money is the tool. The goal is freedom.” That line stuck with me.

You don’t have to be creative to make money. Open a janitorial business. Start a tire shop. Hustle. Budget. That path is clear. But for creatives, it’s different. We want to make our money in a way that makes us feel alive. That’s a heavy burden, but it’s also a rewarding one.

What’s Next?

The first book in my main story, titled Raised by Wolves, is officially in progress.The first supporting book, The Witching Hour, is complete.The second supporting book has already begun: it’s called The Crow and the Crescent Moon.

Whether these works find a wide audience or not, I’ve found more joy in creating them than I’ve ever felt in any job I’ve held. So I’ll keep creating—because that’s what artists do.

And maybe, just maybe, someone out there will want to read them.