The murmuring crowd fell silent as the man slowly approached the podium. All lights in the auditorium dimmed to their lowest setting, letting the sole spotlight bring the man into focus as he stepped up to the microphone. A slight rustling of papers indicated that he had put the speech he’d prepared on the front of the podium as he peered out into the darkness.

“Hello. You don’t know me, but I know you. From the moment you put your first page of HTML online, I am watching you. The very second that you update I’m already on your page. Before you can even utter the words ‘hiatus’ I’m already complaining about it loudly on your forums.

“I am John Q. Public and you must love me and hate me equally.” The man cleared his throat once before he continued, “Do not fear me though, for I am also an unknown, faceless entity that can overall do you little harm in the real world.

“Every webcomic that is in existence owes something to me, even in some small regard. Every creator that I speak to is consistently trying to bring more of my attention their way, discussing things like page hits and unique visitors and the like. I am constantly under barrage to purchase things that the creators create specifically for my imagined tastes. Desktops, coffee mugs, t-shirts… you name it, I’ve probably purchased it at some point in time.

“I am the one that will shower you with praise for your artwork or writing skills. I will stand behind you and swear that you are the next coming of Christ, and I will beg of you to father/mother/spawn my children. I will compare your artwork against famous artists, and wonder idly how people in the dark ages before the Internet were able to get their comic fix.

“If displeased, I will also loudly denounce your abilities in every available outlet I am able to discover. Your tagboard, your forums, your email and those self-same of your friends… none are safe from my wrath. I will hound you to the ends of the Internet and make you wish that you’d never bought your first computer.

“I will question your abilities with a pen and claim with unverifiable proof that my dog or cat could do better. I will compare your jokes to those told in elementary schools and wonder how someone of your obvious lack of IQ even manages to tie their shoes. I will paint such a bleak picture of you it is amazing how you can even stand to look at yourself in the morning.”

The man paused for a moment as the effects of his words sank into the crowd. He ignored the murmuring as he continued.

“And let me be the first to tell you this…

“You owe me nothing.

“That’s right, that’s exactly what I said… you owe me nothing. I do not deserve to be granted a fully colored page every single day. I am not entitled to perfectly executed jokes every time I meander over to your section of the digital world. You should not feel sorry for me simply because your own real life interrupted the comic creation process and you’re forced to update late because of it.

“Everyone gathered here today is an artist in one way, shape or form. Perhaps you have no drawing abilities, but you can spin worlds made of words that people enjoy to read about. Or perhaps your skills with a mouse are unequalled, and few can compare to the awesome digital creations you can conceive. Perhaps you are skilled at manipulation, creating your comic from digital images that already exist and injecting someone else’s world with your vision.

“Sprite or stick, digital or traditionally drawn, gag or serial… you are an artist FIRST, a comic artist second. And in being such, you need to remember one rule of thumb.

“You owe me NOTHING. The moment you start to create your comic with me in mind, you start to lose what creating a comic is even about. An artist does not create works of art for the general public… they create art for the sake of their own dream, their vision, their view on life.

“Artwork in all forms is a thing of beauty. Everything from the first crayola scribbles on a refrigerator door to the massive stone statues of ancient Greece, it all is something remarkable to consider. The mere fact that the human mind can create something out of nothing is awe-inspiring indeed.

“A webcomic is no different. Each webcomic is a view into another world, a realm that exists only within the mind of its creator. To be able to dream up something of this nature and to be able to squeeze it down to easily digestible portions… indeed, this is a thing of beauty.

“However, the moment you start to lose sight of this fact, you begin to commercialize your idea. Once you begin to cater to the whims of John Q. Public, you start to forget the notion that this is YOUR webcomic, and it really has nothing to do with me in the first place. The public will come to love or hate your comic in due time; there is nothing you can do to change this in the greater scheme of things.”

The man was silent again. “Create your comic for the simple love of its creation. Be the artist behind the vision instead of the machine behind the desk. It is your webcomic, your vision, your dream and your world; I, John Q. Public, will be content to sit back and watch it unfold as you allow it to. Thank you.”

The man stepped back and away from the podium and quickly walked back into the darkness as all eyes watched him carefully. After a moment, the main spotlight flickered out and only the dim lights of the emergency exits filtered through the blackness.

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