How God Called Me to Create Manga: My Origin Story
My artistic journey began 5 years ago, as a 25 year-old. God softly invited me to try doing some drawing during a depressive low-point. Similar inspirations had gifted me all my other hobbies and interests, so I was somewhat accustomed to God teaching me things in that way. This was my first serious attempt at observational drawing, excluding a handful of one-off attempts to draw or paint.
The Crisis That Changed Everything
The years leading up to those first drawings were fraught with turmoil. I had been in and out of suicidal episodes, my parents divorced, family dysfunction wreaked havoc on all my relationships, recovery from addiction was stabilizing but shaky, my marriage had just survived the first three rocky years, and the professor leading our small cohort was charged for sexually battery involving a fellow student. Even now I don’t know what to say. It sucked. Faith kept me moving, even when I felt God was very distant.
A piece I made during that time that feels very apt.
I felt suffocated by a career path mired in bureaucracy and decades-long timelines. I didn’t know how to explain it at the time but all of my options felt like a blackened and lifeless soul-corpse at the end of the respective roads I saw in front of me.
Addiction recovery brought a strong sense of purpose through helping others, but the twelve traditions rightly require offering my service there for free. Religion provided purpose in a broad sense but I didn’t find much help from scripture or church leadership in terms of the specific career direction I needed. Some argue that situations like this simply mean that God is ok with whatever we choose, so just make a choice and stick with it! And stop whining!
Prior to those first drawings, on a gloomy February afternoon, on the fourth floor of the SWK tower on BYU campus, it dawned on me that the most valuable thing I have to offer is my experience with God. I needed a career in which I could serve others spiritually, stay intellectually engaged, and sustain in the midst of recovery, TBI symptoms, mental health challenges, family needs, etc. But the heart of my daily routine needed to be spiritually based and service oriented (and intensely creative, but I didn’t know that yet).
This helped narrow the field of possibilities, but I had no idea what direction to look. I didn’t trust myself to make a decision I could stick with long-term. Discouragement and confusion reigned. My mind began to open to new possibilities. Creative yearnings began moving through the haze. My thoughts kept returning to the anime my wife had introduced me to during one of my darkest periods. Stories depicting grueling struggle and transcendent growth inspired hope at times when death felt like the only solution. Could I have a similar impact on others? Could I create stories like that?
Of course not. It was too late to start from zero. I couldn’t possibly produce compelling artwork, and if I tried, was I willing to sacrifice ten years of dedicated effort on low-income with no guarantee of a return? What would people say? What would my wife think? It was such a foolish thought I felt ashamed it crossed my mind.
A Midnight Revelation
Through the gloom God gently invited me to pick up a pencil.
Two weeks later, after drawing everyday and feeling unsure why I was doing it, I woke up in the middle of the night with the introduction of an epic adventure manga in my head. I spent hours writing pages of notes. Those notes would form the foundation of Minue. Swelling motions blossomed in my chest, images filled my mind, and a lightning bolt of clarity struck me to my core.
“I was born to do this.”
Whoah.
Those words hit me with force. My body responded with chills, as though they fell from heaven and landed on a gong inside my chest.
“Oh and you should pursue this as your career.”
A peaceful certainty echoed behind that thought.
…
Manga creator? Comic artist? Career? What?!
That was my first moment of calling. I was a junior at Brigham Young University studying urban planning at the time. I had never taken an art class or even done much doodling. I jumped in with both feet.
The Struggle to Begin
Cozy Ace, my best friend who also happens to be a creative juggernaut, was instrumental in supporting me through that first decision to commit. He cemented his role as my creative godfather (or midwife?) through his encouragement during that fragile time.
I considered changing to an art major at BYU. The professor I spoke with kindly reviewed my novice portfolio and gently encouraged me to finish my established course of study. So I suspended my college career and struck out on my own. Committed to learning fundamental draftsmanship, I leaned heavily on online videos and courses. I bought books (and used them!). I sought out a mentor. Shame and fear dogged my every waking moment. I didn’t tell anyone what I was intending to do for at least six months: I knew the slightest resistance or judgement or look of confusion from a family member could discourage me from continuing.
Art was not enjoyable, not in the slightest. Art was a vehicle to tell the story God had given me. I approached it like a technician. Mechanically doing the exercises I learned from my studies everyday: gesture drawing, cubes in perspective, hatching, line work, line work, line work. Progress felt slow but I trusted that every line I drew brought me closer to work I could be proud of. My mentor encouraged me to begin making manga. He said making comics would teach me everything I needed to know.
I set intentions and goals to do it but something inside me shut down completely every time I sat down to make manga. Panic would rise like bile. My mind would go blank. I didn’t have the slightest idea how to think about drawing a single image, let alone sixty-plus! I was hitting a brick wall. Finally after a few months of meetings my mentor just looked at me and said “What are we doing here?” He was fed up with me. I asked if he would continue our sessions if I kept paying. Nope. I sulked, feeling defeated. Another trusted advisor had turned back on me. Hopeless and alone, I tried to quit.
Turns out a spiritual calling isn’t easily brushed off. God brings me back on deck every time I want to abandon ship. I don’t remember how I recovered from that blow, but it took months to feel like it was behind me. God kept giving me little nudges; a willingness to pick up my iPad and scribble, a sense of peace about the future, an exciting idea. My friend Cozy also helped save the day. One small breadcrumb at a time, through thoughts and feelings, relationships, and small but impossibly perfect opportunities, God shaped every aspect of my art style and practice, and continues to do so. My Higher Power has also slowly awakened and unblocked my creative heart. It’s a miracle built from thousands of tiny miracles, decisions and tears.
Five Years Later
Today, per divine inspiration, I work only traditionally for manga creation (meaning on real paper). My workflow is becoming more relaxed, imperfect, and free. I’m learning to do art in a way that allows it to come out naturally. As God is loosening my expectations, the art is flowing. Only recently has the anti-manga wall started to meaningfully crumble. But now, five years later, I am publishing the first manga chapters that began as late-night scribbles in my notebook. I am celebrating the end of my birth as a manga artist, and ushering in the beginning of my work, and the next phase of my journey.
I hope my work will inspire and uplift you, and that reading my personal stories will add depth to your experience of Minue. More than anything, I hope you can connect with God, a higher power, divine consciousness, infinite pattern or higher self, and lock into your own transformative path.
