Bad News and Good News (Receiving Professional Pitch Feedback)

Forgetting something?

I've finally received feedback on my graphic novel project, Strandlands, from a professional editor from Harper Alley. What I learned there has been a source of great encouragement, disappointment, and self-examination over the past few weeks. I'd been intimidated to figure out how to put it all into words, but the great thing about a blog is that I told you all I would share my results, and now I feel that extra (positive) pressure to do so. Not only does it let me share thoughts with you, dear reader, but it also allows me to take a step back from it all and examine those thoughts from a distance. It does wonders for helping me process things. So thank you for your readership and for your continued encouragement.

If you'll remember last month, I found out last minute that an editor I like would be available for critiques as part of Kids Comics Unite Pitchfest 2026. You can check out the journey of putting together my pitch packet here, in my previous blog.

I had 20 minutes to talk with this industry professional, who I'll call Andrew here. Andrew was a kind guy with nothing but enthusiasm for Strandlands. He opened with his own thoughts overall about the first ten pages of my hard work. He felt the work was strong, especially in the departments of writing, paneling, theming, and characters. Andrew said the conversation between my two main characters felt natural, and that the world was especially interesting to him.

He said to use Lightfall by Tim Probert as my top comp title was a great choice, and that I should continue to read Tim's work and learn from it.

Andrew even said that the written synopsis and my personal explanation for why I'm making Strandlands was great. He had no notes for the pitch itself, and said it was clearly written.

My second comp title, the Amulet graphic novel series, he said has become synonymous with Harry Potter as a big no-no for comparing your work. Amulet, like Bone before it and Conan the Barbarian before it, is a very big name in fantasy comics, so comparing your work to the biggest thing in its genre can feel to an agent that either:

a. You think your work is going to be as popular as the best-selling series of all time

or

b. You don't know enough about your own industry to compare your work to something more specific and less widely popular.

Either way, I had to scrap Amulet as a comp. Andrew recommended checking out the works of Ben Hatke and Jason Pamment for potential comps. Hatke and Pamment would come up again later in the conversation.

Andrew even liked the unconventional style of fantasy I was portraying in Strandlands. The literary world is tired of swords, dragons, and sorcerers, so something fresh and unique is sure to catch an agent's eye.

All of this was turning out to be such a boost, just when I was starting to feel a bit burnt out.

And now the bad news.

After he gave me all of this great feedback, I was able to ask him some questions. We were talking very quickly and I was taking notes as quickly as I could, so I was able to ask three questions.

The last question I asked was this: "If the three pillars of this packet are the writing, the pitch itself, and the art, which pillar is weakest?"

"The art."

Even though I knew it was what he was going to say, it still stung a bit.

To summarize, Andrew liked my character designs and my world, but the illustrations themselves weren't up to snuff. I needed to up my art game. He suggested checking out Hatke and Pamment's work and learning from their techniques. If I was going to tell an environmental story set in interesting places, I needed to do those places justice in the art.

It's wild because I thought art was my greatest strength, it was my background and profession after all, but after some serious thought not only did I come to agree with Andrew, I came to see my art as a gaping hole in my career.

After the zoom call ended (and Andrew and I talked about animation for a few minutes) a question came to the surface of my mind.

How long had I been neglecting my art?

Me. A freelance artist, picture book illustrator, and animation instructor.

How long had it been since I had drawn to learn? Or even for fun?

I'd been so laser-focused on learning how to develop a book, write well, pitch it well, and get it to market, that my illustration skills have been in the backseat for years. I was so giddy to be able to use my art as a means of income (and I still think it's a tremendous blessing) that at some point I must have decided that my craft was "good enough" and left it on the shelf.

These years since I've become a pro artist I've learned so much about finance, teaching, animation, writing, editing, home ownership, marriage, church membership, panel layout, adulthood, faith, outlining, networking, prayer, critiquing, and running a business. I'm really grateful for all I've learned, but my art has been more or less gathering dust.

It hit me again a few weeks back when our pastor was preaching about the Biblical concept of stewardship. Some of you may have heard this before: Time, Talents, Treasures - how are you stewarding those gifts you've been given? How are you spending the hours of your days? How are you using the talents God gave you? Where are your resources going and why?

My Talent, the one I've always felt the most confident in, has been gathering dust, and that isn't just an issue for my career, it feels like it goes deeper.  It's like an arm that's been bound up in a cast - what good is coming of it?

Naturally I've felt convicted about my Talent and my use of it as of late: it should be more than a source of identity and income.

What's worse, I even wrote about this in Strandlands! How did I forget since writing this line?

"Skill? I never called it that. I called it a gift. And it should be treated as such... Gifts are freely given, not hoarded for one’s own benefit." (p. 70)

So, what's the good news?

The good news is that I've been doing art since as long as I could hold a pencil. My writing has developed leaps and bounds in recent years, so why can't I go back to basics with my art, too? If there's anything I know how to do, it's make creamy chicken noodle soup and draw.

The good news is, I was thinking that my writing and pitch were weak, but the weakest part was the skill that I know best how to strengthen and develop, and love the most.

I want to turn it to you, reader - take a moment to think about the gifts you've been given and how you're using them. Are they being treated as gifts or as soapboxes, moneymakers, and parachutes?

Feel free to comment your answers below if you wish, and as always, thanks for stopping by.

Be sure to join the mailing list down below so you don't miss the next one! Until then!