At last--it's comics time. I drew comics for more than three decades (starting at age 7). Then I took a break. You'd think I'd be amazing at drawing comics, but I kind of hit a wall back in the early 90s. I'm not going to be much better than that, is my guess and that's OK.
Although it is heartbreaking when the Pro White dries up in the jar, and pencil lines won't erase clean, and the elbow in panel three has "drawing issues," there's something very satisfying about making comics. It's an almost total-mind-body artform. You have to come up with a story or joke, then you draft it out so it hopefully makes some kind of sense, then you arrange your ideas in storyboard form and start the actual drawing. It's done! Not so fast, Mister, you still have to ink it, you know. *Sigh* Then there's erasing and fixing. More inking and probably a typo or two to deal with. It's epic, I tell you! And then if you're lucky--publication in one of thousands of readily available magazines. Just kiddding! We're not in the 80s any more!
Most likely, it's going to go up on the Web, which is a terrible medium for comics. You're either clicking or scrolling to read them and they never reproduce like the sloppy little drawing you can hold in your hand. Oh well, it's still a kick. Especially for the natural-born wiseacre. Not that I know anything about that.