[VIDEO BLOG] Well, that escalated quickly.

This is not really what I meant by becoming a “hospice worker.”

Please Support my Work

Steve and I went to a Bernie Sanders event in the Saint Paul RiverCentre the evening before Super Tuesday. I had not attended a campaign rally since the primary season of 2008. The energy was similar to Obama’s crowd back then. It was refreshing to watch people speaking about meaningful policies for the working classes, and acting as a community toward a common good, instead of the dog-eat-dog reality we inhabit. The current path is unsustainable, but change is scary, and not enough people are ready for a paradigm shift.

The environment and the economy will eventually force it upon us.

Bernie Sanders Rally

Before everything started shutting down due to the COVID-19/Coronavirus, I had the chance to participate as an extra in a student film project. Aside from being a great opportunity to get out of the office for a while, it provides some additional justification for my huge (mostly cheap and thrifted) wardrobe.

Extra at the Lexington

I look forward to doing it again, if I make it through the pandemic.

Spring 2020 Fashion Lookin' Good

In the meantime…


Good Quill Hunting

There was an expectation that I would start to experience some unexplained aches and pains after turning forty years old. I did not expect the entire world to start falling apart. Anyone who knows me on a personal level is aware of my apocalyptic disposition, but my money was on a gradual slide into oblivion through the effects of climate change, not a fairly rapidly-moving plague.

Not that quarantine changes much for me, since I have been mostly holed up in my office, working on various things. It does seem to feel more suffocating when you have no choice. Multiple people have noted that I was fortunate to leave elder-care when I did. I am delaying the CNA class until danger passes. I have enough savings to tough things out for up to six months living frugally. Very frugally. Please consider becoming a Patreon subscriber, or purchasing a piece of art, if you can comfortably afford to do that. I know almost everyone is struggling right now. It has been difficult to remain positive.

In an effort to cut back on my use of disposable technical pens, I have been inking almost exclusively with brush and quill pens. The Mandalorian piece and assorted sketchcards below were inked with quill pens. I have been working with Speedball Hunt nibs #102, #107, and #104. I also picked up a selection of B-Series nibs, hoping for a satisfying alternative to felt-tips for stippling.

Tiny But Fierce

My “house brand” sketchcards are here, and the first couple of batches have been shipped out. The ability to ‘request’ cards is a Patreon subscriber perk, with the option to pre-purchase the original before it is offered to the general public. The cards are $60/ea including US shipping, however I am guaranteed to spend at least an hour on each card — usually more.

JinWicked.com Sketchcards

These were completed mostly last November and December, but I can finally share with you my contributions to this new Dawn 30th Anniversary card set, published by Dynamite. The occasion marked both my first paycheque from a major comic book company, and first mention in Previews World magazine.

I continue to be incredibly grateful for all that the Linsners have done for me, including the opportunity to work on this sketchcard set for them.

I will have a very limited number of Dawn cards (much like the ones pictured) available directly from Etsy later in the fall, with my Patreon subscribers given the first opportunity to purchase them. $100/ea including US shipping.

With my tax refund, I was able to restock all of my books currently available. Each “printing” is 100 books. This is the fifth printing of Best of Crap I Drew on My Lunch Break, third printing of Just the Rats Ma’am, and the second printing of Best of A Dollar Late and A Day Short and my Happy Rats colouring book. For my future books, I will be running Kickstarters for the first print runs.

Books available at Etsy!

These are all things that, under normal circumstances, I would be (and was) terribly excited about. Right now, anything resembling bragging feels gauche and insensitive. Mostly, I just feel an uneasy weariness. I am going to hunker down, continue working, and hope for the best. Stay safe, everyone.


Writer Wrong

While I was in the process of writing my recent #MeToo story, I was tagged, along with 39 other women, in a Facebook post made by Dirk Manning. He is a writer and colleague with whom I have had a superficial-level, professional friendship (mainly via Facebook) for about three years now. I have drawn a few pieces of artwork featuring him, we met very briefly in person for the first time at San Diego Comic-Con 2019, and we live-streamed one karaoke song together at Grand Rapids Comic-Con last November. In this Facebook post, Dirk detailed what had learned about the unique struggles that women face in the comics industry, how he was working on himself to be a more proactive ally going forward, and urging men in general to “do better.”

I was the first person to respond to that post, hoping to have an ally in Dirk, due to my own feelings of being diminished and bullied out of the industry by my ex-boyfriend and his cohorts. Publicly, Dirk responded in a very supportive way to my comments. In private, however, he persistently blew off repeated attempts to talk to him about what I was going through, at both conventions named above, and in our limited private conversations on Facebook.

I saw Dirk for a matter of minutes at San Diego Comic-Con. I thought it might be fun to live-blog together; he wanted me to introduce him and Twiztid, if I remember correctly, on Facebook Live. I knew very little about the group, and the request made me feel like a prop, so I declined. He gave me a giant hug, and told me how great it was to finally meet me. We took a couple of selfies, he pushed a goodie bag filled with promotional items in my hands, and I tried to grab his attention for a few minutes to explain why I cared so much about being there. I was unsuccessful. He invited me to a concert before I left his booth, but I declined that as well, uninterested and a bit baffled.

At Grand Rapids Comic-Con, which was not especially busy, we tabled across the aisle from each other. Again he seemed perpetually distracted, and shut out the few efforts I made to speak to him seriously. He called me friend, told me he was proud of me, apologized for not being more available, and said the kind of things one would expect a friend to say. But his aura in person is that of a brick wall; “used car salesman” is the phrase I hear most often from others. Even at my most “Jin Wicked”est I like to think people can sense the humanity beneath; that it is only one facet of me, as a complex human being. Dirk feels like nothing. I cannot read this man. An empty suit of platitudes and hair gel. He has so thoroughly buried any authenticity, if he has it, that it may as well not exist. He did participate in karaoke with me, which I enjoyed, and after the convention I was curious to figure out what the his ‘deal’ was.

With his permission, I drew a picture of us inspired by the karaoke, which he encouraged me to share to his Facebook group to “get more much-deserved fans.” I eye-rolled a bit at that statement, but did not comment on it then.

Circling around to the now-infamous Facebook post from the beginning of this blog; unbeknownst to me, and apparently for many years now, Dirk has been dogged by allegations of various misdeeds. His post, in fact, may have been a preemptive effort to head several off as they gained steam. After I stopped paying attention to the comments on his post, having fallen off my Facebook radar, women began replying to hold him accountable for how he had treated several of them. The allegations were serious enough that, when it was clear he was going to simply ignore them and hope they go away, I copied one of their comments and shared it on my own Timeline. I also sent him a private message asking for an explanation, which he has never responded to, or as far as I know even looked at. I felt incredibly betrayed by someone, as said, I believed to be an ally. And who had repeatedly called me a friend.

The women who had been involved with him started organizing their effort to be heard, and eventually compiled a document with many of their stories. It was shared with me. While it is not my place to disclose what I have read, I can tell you that they were all remarkably similar, and not that different from my own experiences with my ex-boyfriend and others. I can also tell you that I spent several days quite sick, literally, because of it, and reliving some of my own traumatic experiences through them. I believe them.

Only one woman has come forward outside Facebook, that I know of.

Added 6/19/20: The story of another one of Dirk Manning’s targets/victims.

When Dirk simply failed to respond for several days, I unfriended him from all of my social media accounts out of disgust. He issued a very vague “apology” after things escalated, which failed to express real remorse, or acknowledge the scope of what he is accused of and his victim’s pain in any palpable way. He returned to business-as-usual, eventually blocking me, his accusers, and most of the people who have visibly spoken out against him on social media. His constant drum-beating of “promote the positive” and “ignore negativity” has taken on a very sinister perspective for me, given what I now know.

I am in the process of removing all photos, videos, and work related to Dirk, and anything that promotes him and/or his books, from my own social media and websites. I will not knowingly work with his associates, or any publishing companies that continue to give him work. My relative independence allows me to do this with very few repercussions, I admit. Others have severed their professional relationships with him at much greater cost to themselves.

Having spent much of the last few years feeling powerless, disbelieved, and unheard myself, after how I was treated by my ex-boyfriend in the industry, I have struggled to let this go. I was left wondering about the sincerity of each compliment; the boisterous hugs, the false concern, the smiles, and whether I was simply another potential conquest to him. My heart breaks for those he has allegedly used and discarded. And it is clear, from what I have read, that he does not regard his female co-creators as equals. I do not believe that he ever saw me as one, though I feel more patronized than denigrated.

Do not lift women up only to wear them like feathers in your cap.

I was not prepared for the levels of casual misogyny and simmering hostility toward women that I have encountered from some, as I attempted to move into the traditional comics industry from the more diverse and inclusive world of web comics. “Welcome to being a woman,” I have sadly been told. There is no sense of justice for me, or for other women used in this way. Your options are only to give up, suck it up, or fight to have a voice louder than those who would silence you. Fighting is the only option I can ultimately live with.

On my first Free Comic Book Day, as I sat at my table, drawing, I overheard a woman telling her daughter while pointing toward me, “Look, women can be comic artists, too!” That moment has stuck with me as the events of the last few years have unfolded. I understand that I have a responsibility not just to myself, but to those who come after me. That responsibility includes standing up for both myself and others. I do not always succeed, but I do my best.

Their stories, my stories, are written in ink. They will not be erased.