One day, when I was about 8 or 9 years old, I decided I wanted to do comics. Since then, sometimes more, sometimes less, I have dedicated myself to it practicly without stopping.
There were two main forces driving me to do it. One was the need, imperative to obsession, of landing my ideas to the material plane. The other arose from the fact that, sometimes, seeing my work once finished, I was reasonably pleased with the outcome.
That does not happen to me anymore. Today I actually convinced myself that I hate to do JRD. It is for me a source of stress and frustration. I found myself wanting to finish quickly so I could move onto something else. I lost my criterion for discerning whether or not my work is worth it.
I do not know why this happens. It may be a simple passing crisis (these last months I have been under a lot of stress) or it may be that, over time and as a result of the different experiences I had, my nature has changed profoundly. I thought a lot and I think the only way to find out is to stop working in comics for a while.
So JRD enters a hiatus of one or two months. If during the course of these my vocation reborns, I will work in the comic. If not, I will announce the final cancellation.