My journey from comic strip
creator to sci-fi novelist.

I have a confession to make. My journey to authoring a science fiction trilogy with sequels in the works began a long time ago (not in a galaxy far, far away) at the pen-and-ink-blotched aspiration of creating the next Calvin and Hobbes. Before spit-taking your coffee and scoffing with righteous indignation, understand that I hail from a family of artists. Hence, the pie-in-the-sky notion of joining the hallowed ranks of Watterson and Schultz et al. was not far-fetched for a modestly talented art school student making his way in a world on the cusp of a new digital age.

Of course, the first dilemma when venturing down the path of developing a new comic strip involves avoiding the creation of yet another derivative strip about snarky pets and lovable loser owners. So, what to do? Fascinated by the idea of reanimating dinosaurs through DNA harvested from prehistoric amber at the center of Michael Crichton’s novel Jurassic Park, I sat at my father’s hand-me-down drafting table, sketching and inking a lab-grown dinosaur and mutant bee comic strip duo. What a novel concept. There was nothing like this in the funny papers as far as I knew. What could go wrong?

Well, nothing pre se. The reality of life, marriage, and a burgeoning commercial art career (at the absolute beginning of computer graphics) took center stage, relegating my hammy, gag-filled strips to a long-forgotten, dog-eared folder labeled Bentley, tucked away in a flat file under stacks of paintings and drawings, and soon forgotten.

Fast-forward a couple of decades to an older, not wiser, version of myself rediscovering this same dog-eared art folder unseen for years. While sifting through strips inked on old-school vellum, xeroxed sheets with scale percentages scribbled in the margins, and stacks of pencil-sketched character studies, the insane spark to resurrect my comic strip rekindled in my brain.

Or, I lost my mind. It depends on who you ask. 

Following a year of drawing, writing, and developing the original strip’s unique backstory using online resources and digital tech nonexistent in my initial pass at a comic strip, Lost Cactus, the eponymous code name of a top-secret base sequestered behind a barbed-wire perimeter in the arid southwestern hinterlands came to life in 3-panel comic strips.

In addition to Bentley and Ty (the original bee and dinosaur duo), I created a white-coated scientist named Doc (my lovable loser) and a supporting cast of quasi-military characters, mutants, zombies, and aliens on the ultra-secret base. Envision M*A*S*H meets the X-Files, and you get the idea. 

Cognizant of the remote chance of success, I snail-mailed submissions to syndicates far and wide. After too many rejection letters to count—and an interested editor’s suggestion to drop the alien character—I realized wedging my creation into the shrinking comics section of a vanishing newspaper industry was a non-starter. Only now, what to do with over 300 comic strips? Improvise. Leveraging my graphic design expertise and the fast-emerging self-publishing industry, I made two Lost Cactus anthologies. And because it’s never enough, I filled the colorful books with art, humorous essays, liner notes, pop quizzes, and something new and exciting for me at the time, science fiction short stories. These early forays into fiction writing, while indeed a cringe-worthy read in parts, presaged characters, entities, and narratives that expanded outward like a big bang into The Powers That Be trilogy (The Golden Ellipse, The Lost Ship, and The Blue Spark).

And now, having established The Powers That Be | Lost Cactus multiverse, my most fervent wish is for the time to write more books and graphic novels based on my compelling vision of What’s Next.

What do they say about hindsight?

Could I have predicted my path from comic strip creator to science fiction novelist from the outset? Thereby avoiding the numerous inevitable pitfalls, dead-ends, and failures. Short answer: No. Besides, where would the fun be in that? Life is messy and unpredictable by design, which makes it all the more worth living and writing about.

What Lies Beyond Common Knowledge.

Researching the fascinating and, in parts, controversial subject matter underlying my science fiction has expanded my armchair understanding of a staggering range of uncommon knowledge—from ancient megalithic sites and uncontacted Amazonian cannibal tribes to the ingredients of a Corpse Reviver No. 1—as well as robotics and AI to an inevitable posthumanism. Added to the equation, a multitude of brilliant thinkers have influenced my storytelling, from Fermi and Fibonacci to the inimitable David Bowie, along with literary greats such as Michael Crichton, Isaac Asimov, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Ray Bradbury, and Jules Verne, to name a few favorites. I could go on—indeed, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

A final thought.

Humankind’s place in the universe is an astonishing mystery to behold. Embrace your inner skeptic and dare to explore beyond common knowledge—that is where your answers lie, and the fun begins.

See you in the funny papers.