A daring rescue

oscar on the rugA summer storm brings back memories. Oscar crawls from the rug to the couch to tell Francine all about the day he left his homeland.

The very first chapter of “The Rescue” is up at Little Grey Pages.

Beards and free stickers

Our very first comic post is now up. Today, we meet The Beard Brothers: Weird the Cook, Feared the Big Brother and Eared the Mystic.


Also: free stuff! We’re running a promotional campaign on the Facebook page, giving away a few really nice prints and stickers for everyone who likes the page and wants to send us their address.

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Today’s the day

We’re live! The Little Grey Pages comic and story blog starts with a discovery


We have a few giveaways to announce for those on Facebook. Like our page and follow along! Details are coming in the next couple hours.

In the center of the island…

Oscar finds the voice. Soon, he’ll return to the sea with a new boat and a new direction.

On Wednesday of this week, Oscar’s story begins at Little Grey Pages.

the rescue 3

First steps

Oscar clambers up on the beach. Thick roots weave in and out of the sand like a sea serpent. Nose to the ground, he follows them inland…

the rescue 1 edited

These little panels are from the very first iteration of “The Rescue”, which we intended to complete for The Sketchbook Project. We quickly realized that the scope of the story was bigger than that little book could contain.

Another day closer. Little Grey Pages starts Monday!

Big news on Monday

My wife and I have been working on a comic and story blog for the past few years, and we’ve finally set a launch date. Little Grey Pages begins this Monday, December 14!

You can like us on Facebook for updates. We have a big week planned, including some promotional giveaways.

In the meantime, I’ll be sharing some of our work from previous iterations of a storyline we call “The Rescue” over the next few days.

the rescue 2 edited

Model home

They moved the Mason-Dixon line south. They kept the veranda.

I suppose you don’t put ceiling fans and wicker rockers on a townhouse porch or city stoop. You don’t paint the back deck canary yellow.

It’s a quiet walk home. But when the wind picks up on a summer evening, the rocking chairs tilt and the wooden blades turn, and I can almost see them: After a long day at work, Dad yanks down his tie. Mom watches the kids play. She dabs her neck with a wet gingham kerchief. A pitcher of iced tea sweats on the table. Mr. and Mrs. Thornbull wave from across the street.

The sun disappears. The air cools and turns to soup. A dozen air conditioning units kick on, as one. Living room walls flicker blue beyond lighted windows.