Did I "Finish?"

Every year, during that strange What day is it again? / Are all the butter tarts gone? stretch between Christmas and New Year’s, I like to reflect on the year that just passed and choose a theme word for the year ahead.

For at least the last two years, my word of the year has been finish. But if I had a phrase for 2025 it might have been: “Try for finish, but holy moly hang on for dear life ‘cause things are gonna get all level-5 sharknado around here.” In that context, I think it’s fair to give myself a little grace and actually look back at how the last two years went before choosing a new word for 2026.

Finish Is Harder Than It Sounds

Many of my fellow creators (especially those of us with varying degrees of ADHD) struggle with shiny-object syndrome. It’s far more fun to research and start a new project than it is to do the work required to actually bring something to completion. But I’m genuinely happy to say I’ve made real progress in this department.

Andy Schmidt of Comics Experience often talks about starting a comics career small. Paraphrasing wildly: your next project should be no more than twice the size of the last one you actually finished. Many of us come into comics wanting to write an opus, and that just isn’t realistic for a lot of reasons. It’s expensive, your skills grow with every page, and your early work often isn’t something you’d want to lock in at 200+ pages, anyway. Starting small keeps the challenges small and leaves room for growth.

My own passion project, The Lump Sum Saga, very much started in the “grand opus” category, so it has taken real discipline to break that world into smaller, achievable chunks. But it’s working. My first comic, Only the Fate of the World, was 18 pages. The next chapters, compiled in Lump Dog came in at over 40 pages. Most importantly, those pages are finished, Kickstarted and released. There is something deeply satisfying about actually putting finished pages into the world.

What I didn’t expect in 2025 was the completion of an entirely unrelated 40-page comic made possible by a grant from dReader. I plan to release VXD via a Kickstarter in late February/early March.

When I step back and evaluate my finish goal, the fact that I’ve put 80+ self-funded pages of comics into the world over the last two years feels genuinely satisfying.

What makes me particularly proud of that accomplishment is the backdrop it happened against.

2025 was one of the most disruptive years of my life. And no, I’m not talking about tariffs or AI.

My wife and I sold the house we’d lived in for over 38 years and moved to Vancouver Island to be closer to our children and our grandson.

If you don’t struggle with ADHD, it’s hard to fully grasp how disruptive packing, random showings, sorting, and unpacking can be to a creative practice. The best analogy I can offer is that my brain works like a train: when I’m firmly on the tracks and headed in one direction, I can get a lot done. When I’m in a flow state, words and ideas move effortlessly.

But that train derails easily, and getting back up to speed takes time. Things have gotten better since I discovered medication (wow, I wish I’d been diagnosed sooner), but historically, it took at least two weeks after any holiday to get back to any sort of rhythm.

When preparing to move, every doorbell ring, every showing, every call to movers or contractors knocked me back to square one. So the fact that I’ve managed to create, finish, and Kickstarter over 80 pages of comics during the last two years (a lot during this move) honestly makes me really happy.

I’m writing this from a new desk setup, in a new studio space, in a new house, with most of the major challenges of the move behind us. There’s still plenty left to do (it’s the mixed blessing of home ownership), but all things considered, I think I did okay, and I am set up for success in 2026.

Eight out of ten for the word finish in 2025.

A New Word for 2026

With that behind me, it’s time to pick a new word.

Realistically, I could choose finish again. My creative to-do list is actually longer now than it was when I took early retirement, specifically to attack that list.

But I want a word that acknowledges reality: 2026 won’t be easy—but it holds so much opportunity.

My word for 2026 is grind. Finish implies an endpoint. This year is going to be about steady, persistent work, much of which won’t end up finished.

Behind the scenes, I need to keep plugging away at The Lump Sum Saga. With my wife now fully retired, household cash flow is tighter, and paying artists and collaborators is a real challenge. That means grinding away at fundraising: showing up at cons, selling from existing inventory, selling accumulated treasures on Facebook Marketplace, and whatever else helps me pay for more finished pages.

One possible revenue source will be a proper Kickstarter for my new comic, VXD. Technically, the book is already finished. The PDFs could be sold today, and it wouldn’t take much to get it to a printer. This isn’t about finishing. It’s about doing the work to get it into readers’ hands.

The new financial constraints will likely push me toward other creative work as well. My YA novel, Powder, is about two-thirds complete, and it would be deeply satisfying to finish the first draft in 2026. Doing so won’t cost me a thing Yah, yah. I know OK, electricity for my computer.

I’m also continuing a visual art project called Life, Redacted. Much of that work is mechanical and repetitive… the kind of effort that pairs nicely with long podcasts and new music. I see a lot of listening pleasure ahead.

But Wait, There’s More

For 2026, I think I also need a secondary word that works alongside grind.

That word is authentic.

I want everything I do this year to be more human, more connected, and more real. Moving closer to our children and grandson has been a gift. It’s given me permission to slow down, be present, and rethink how I show up. The impact on my comics work will be subtle, but important.

For example: I’ve used an avatar (“Pilot”, one of my TLSS characters) for much of my online presence. I think it’s time to put my actual face out there more often.

Pragmatically, I acknowledge that authenticity can be awkward at times. I want to be brave enough to be authentic regardless. For example, it’s a tad ironic that I run a site called Tech for Comics and haven’t yet written a proper series on AI. Part of the hesitation is knowing that my honest opinions will annoy both extremes of the debate.

But if I’m going to live authentically, drawing on decades in tech and a growing body of creative work, I can’t justify staying silent. So if all goes according to plan, I’ll be doing a series on AI and Comics this year. I hope it will be especially helpful for my “AI is the work of the devil” friends.

So: grind, set against the backdrop of authentic.

Those are my words for 2026.

How about you? What’s your word for the year ahead? If you have one, please post it in the comments of this post. And let’s check back on this post next December and see how we did.