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The birds are singing, that Morning song from “Peer Gynt” is playing, and Stricken Pot Pie is slowly coming out of hibernation. Having dealt with such distractions as a cross-country move across one of the larger countries, I am now easing back into life and stuff. Don’t expect new comics right away, but expect to expect them in the near future.
I’ve made a few changes to the website, the biggest one being that I have rephotographed each and every comic. Now the images don’t suck quite so much. Feel free to scroll through the Comic archives and marvel at my increasingly adequate photography skills.
And now the big news. In celebration of spring, I am pleased to announce the opportunity for you to transfer your money to me. The handy link on the right of this page, and this handy link right here, will take you to wondrous place where you can buy photo prints of a selection of SPP comic strips. And buttons! Buttons, people. Serious stuff.
If you want a print of a comic not currently available in the shop or a different size print or anything else you think I should sell, drop me a line at email@example.com. I’ll see what I can do.
Stricken Pot Pie is on hiatus.
“Best. Concert. Ever.”, the live Jonathan Coulton concert DVD/CD featuring myself on ukulele, is now available for purchase. Great for JoCo fans, ukulele fans, Paul & Storm fans, and fans of dry ice and flashlights. If you’re not a fan of any of those things, well then I’m not sure how much more we have to say to one another.
This week’s comic will appear on Sunday, a day early, because it is the special Mother’s Day edition. The original of said comic will then promptly be sent to my actual mother. (And because she is my mother, she knows that when I say “promptly” I mean “probably before Christmas. Maybe.”)
Mother’s Day usually falls within the same week as my birthday. This concurrence makes for a strange sort of conversation between celebrations, wherein my mom essentially says “Hey, congratulations on being born!” and I essentially say “Hey, congratulations on having done all the birth-related work!”
Marjorie and Emory’s riveting storyline will continue in the following installment.
My sister, brother, and sister-in-law made Stricken Pot Pie Easter eggs and then, and this is the important part, made them RE-ENACT the first comic. I’m not sure whether it technically counts as fan art if it’s made by people who burped you as a baby, but whatever. Fan Art!
I requested, nay, demanded that the eggs be saved and made to re-enact every single SPP comic, but I don’t think my request was honored. Some fans they are.
Two more pictures within, including exciting carnival-style action and the drama of the Emory egg gradually succumbing to alopecia. It’s a shockingly common disease for eggs with fake fur lint pasted all over them. And yet where’s their walk-a-thon?
First the good news:
Now for the news news:
Effective immediately, new comics will be posted fortnightly rather than weekly. That will allow me to maintain some meager standard of quality in the jokes and workmanship, while still being a tight enough deadline to keep me from getting too relaxed about the whole thing. It will also allow all of us to use the word “fortnightly” more often. It’s a win-win.
See you next Monday.
I don’t have tomorrow’s comic done yet. This is the first time I haven’t had a comic done at least a week in advance. Which means I’ve used up my backlog. This is where it gets interesting, dawgs. This is apparently also where I start referring to people as “dawgs.” Like I said, interesting.
You see, it may not be immediately apparent, but these things are time-consuming. The most recent strip was the fastest to complete, and that took 5+ hours. Because of some kind of misplaced sense of authenticity, I create each panel individually (i.e. there are three little fabric Marjories in the last strip, not one Marjorie that is moved around and photographed in different positions.) In my mind, each Stricken Pot Pie installment is a two-part work: the digital image that gets released on the Internet, and the final physical comic strip that (for now) sits filed in a box in my apartment. I don’t reuse elements from panel to panel or from strip to strip, no matter how much time and effort that would obviously save. In fact, the characters are designed to be impossible to reuse- Marjorie’s legs and Emory’s claws are stitches that anchor them to the background muslin.
I tell you this because my mom was asking about it, and I figure, if Mom wants to know maybe others are curious too. Although Mom is also curious about the details of my morning commute, and I doubt that’s quite as riveting to you. I’ll probably be writing a little more in the weeks to come about my process and why I’m doing this, so if you have any questions about how this sausage is made, please leave a comment or write to firstname.lastname@example.org. I’d like to put together a FAQ, or at least a QABAST (Questions Asked But A Single Time), but I’d rather not make up all the questions myself. That’s cheating, dawgs.
I’m coming out of a five-day bender of Nyquil, honey-lemon tea, and all three Mad Max movies to photograph and prep installment 4. Don’t ever let anyone say that I don’t love you.
While I’m up and conscious I may as well give you a teaser and further proof of my love: tomorrow’s comic is the first in an actual, multi-installment storyline. Nothing as epic as Mad Max, certainly, and I doubt that Tina Turner will be involved in the climactic final episode, but a storyline all the same.
I saw you on the Manhattan-bound D train, 9 a.m. Wednesday. I was the short blonde in the yellow scarf, and you were across from me, pretending to be a patch of spilled paint on a light fixture. None of the other passengers even noticed you were there, but I watched you all the way to my stop. I was afraid I was going to miss the chance to make my move, since a grouchy-looking businessman was standing between us for three stops. Fortunately, he moved toward the door as the train was slowing to a stop at my station, and as I stood up I was able to snag a picture of you with my ancient cell phone camera. I hope you don’t mind, but I knew I would never see you again and you were just so damn adorable.
I’ve been experimenting feverishly this week. Not only have I been whipping this website into some sort of non-shameful state, but I’ve been attempting to improve the photo situation in these parts. What with the tripod and the matboard and the teal duct tape, I’ve built myself quite the little space in which to have no idea what I’m doing. But I do believe the photos for installment two are ever-so-slightly nicer than those for installment one. I’m inching towards competence!
At least Special Edition Santa Suit Teddy Ruxpin thinks so.