When Michael first imagined The Mannamong, he was twelve years old.

At that age, there was no thought of publishing, printing costs, marketing funnels, or algorithms. There was just a story that wouldn’t let go of him. A world forming in his sketchbooks. Characters that felt real. A sense, even then, that this was something he would carry for a long time. As his mother, I encouraged his love of story and listened for hours on end to his world-building.

Like many creative ideas born young, The Mannamong didn’t arrive fully formed. It grew alongside him. By the time Michael was in college, he knew with certainty that this wasn’t just a childhood pastime. This was the story he wanted to tell. After graduating, he made a defining decision: instead of letting the idea stay “someday,” he began drawing and inking the story in earnest.

That choice, to commit after years of quiet incubation, marked the real journey's beginning. And running an indie graphic novel since then has taught us lessons no course, guide, or shortcut ever could.

1. A Long Creative History Is a Strength, Not a Liability

Starting a story young comes with its own challenges. You grow. Your skills change. Your perspective deepens. There’s always a temptation to scrap early ideas or feel embarrassed by how long something has taken.

But one of the most powerful lessons from running The Mannamong is this: time invested is not time wasted.

Because Michael lived in this world for so long before committing it to the final pages, the foundation was strong. The themes had been tested internally for years. The emotional core wasn’t rushed. The story matured because he did.

An indie graphic novel doesn’t need to be fast. It needs to be honest.

2. Making the Book Is Only Half the Work

When Michael began drawing and inking The Mannamong in full after college, the focus was on craft — story, pacing, character, and art. That part felt familiar. What came later was unexpected.

Once the book existed, the scope expanded dramatically. Suddenly, creating the story was only one piece of the puzzle. There were decisions about printing, distribution, websites, descriptions, emails, ads, fulfillment, and communication with readers.

Running an indie graphic novel means wearing every hat, and this is where I come in. My many years of building brands through graphic design, print production, and website design were the perfect fit for Michael’s vision for The Mannamong. Self-publishing a graphic novel is more than the story. You have to protect it, present it, and help it find its audience.

3. Progress Is Slower Than You Want (Even When You’re Committed)

One of the biggest surprises has been how slow meaningful progress can feel.

Michael didn’t start this story on a whim. He carried it from childhood, confirmed it in college, and committed fully after graduation. Even with that level of clarity, growth didn’t suddenly accelerate.

Books take time.
Art skills improve.
Story changes.
Audiences take time.

Running The Mannamong taught us that consistency matters far more than urgency. The work compounds quietly. If he rushed the story, it wouldn’t have evolved. Most days don’t feel dramatic—but over the years, they add up.

Creative Work Is Cyclical — Just Like Story

Every great story goes through arcs:

• Beginnings → Uncertainty → Conflict → Revelation → Transformation.
  Every great creator goes through the same:

• Inspiration → Doubt → Struggle → Breakthrough → Integration.

4. Doubt Doesn’t Mean You’re on the Wrong Path

When you carry a story for decades, doubt takes on a different shape.

You question whether you’re honoring the younger version of yourself who dreamed it up. You wonder if the story still deserves the time you’re giving it. You worry about whether it will ever reach the people it’s meant for.

Running an indie graphic novel taught us that doubt isn’t a signal to stop — it’s a signal that the work matters. Michael didn’t stay with The Mannamong from age twelve because it was easy. He stayed because it kept asking something of him.

Learning to continue in the face of doubt has been essential.

5. Independence Means Protection and Responsibility

One reason Michael chose the indie path was control.

Because this story has such deep personal roots, protecting its heart matters. Independence allows that. The pacing, the tone, the way the world is revealed—all of it stays aligned with the original intention.

But independence also means carrying the weight alone. There’s no safety net. No guaranteed exposure. No one else to absorb the risk.

Running The Mannamong has shown us that independence isn’t freedom without cost — it’s freedom with accountability.

6. Worldbuilding Requires Patience

A world that began in childhood doesn’t unfold all at once.

One of the hardest lessons has been learning what not to share yet. When you’ve lived inside a story for so long, it’s tempting to reveal everything immediately. But strong worlds need room to breathe.

Running an indie graphic novel taught us to think long-term. To respect pacing. To trust that some things are better revealed slowly, book by book, reader by reader.

7. The Right Readers Matter More Than Big Numbers

When The Mannamong reaches a reader, especially a child who connects with its sense of hope — that moment carries enormous weight.

Running an indie graphic novel reframes success. It’s not just sales or followers. It’s knowing that a story that began with a twelve-year-old’s imagination is now meeting readers where they are.

That continuity from childhood creation to real-world impact is something no metric can fully measure.

8. This Is a Lifelong Project, Not a Launch

Perhaps the most important lesson of all is this:

The Mannamong isn’t a single book. It’s not even a single phase of life. It’s a story that grew with Michael — from age twelve, through college clarity, into adult commitment, and continues to evolve.

Running an indie graphic novel isn’t about “making it.” It’s about staying true to the work over time, showing up, and honoring the story’s origins while letting it grow.

And if there’s one thing this journey has proven, it’s that stories born early and nurtured patiently can become something deeply meaningful.

Not overnight.
Not easily.
But honestly.

And sometimes, that’s the most powerful way a story can exist.

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This post walks through the entire process, from the first story idea to holding the finished book, using The Mannamong as a real-world example of how one independent creator built a fantasy world step by step.

Creating a children’s graphic novel is one of the most rewarding creative paths an author-illustrator can take. It blends storytelling, visual design, and emotional truth into a form that invites young readers to step inside a world and stay awhile.

Whether you’re starting with a blank sketchbook or refining an idea that’s been with you for years, this guide walks through each major stage of the process—from the first spark of a story to sharing the finished book with readers—using The Mannamong as a case study in how an independent creator can bring a fantasy world to life.

1. Start With a Story Worth Telling

Every strong graphic novel begins with an idea that refuses to let go. For stories aimed at children, that idea should be rooted in emotion, curiosity, and growth.

When Michael began The Mannamong, his goal wasn’t to teach a lesson—it was to tell the kind of story he would have wanted to read as a child. Instead of speaking to kids, he wrote from the point of view of the protagonist and asked a simple question: How would she feel in this moment?

As you shape your own concept, consider:

• What themes will resonate with readers ages 8–12?

• Who is your main character, and what makes them relatable?

• What emotions drive the story—hope, fear, wonder, forgiveness?

The Mannamong grew from a single idea: What if invisible spirits were still among us, quietly guiding the world even after we stopped believing in them? From that spark came a layered mythology centered on courage, balance, and empathy.

Start simple. Identify a core emotional truth your readers can connect to, then let the plot and characters grow naturally around it.

2. Develop Memorable Characters

In children’s graphic novels, characters are everything. Young readers connect first through visuals—faces, expressions, posture—long before they process dialogue.

In The Mannamong, Kali Teal is an ordinary girl thrust into an extraordinary situation after meeting Tontorus, a rogue mannamong. Their uneasy relationship—marked by fear, humor, and gradual trust—drives the story forward.

When designing your cast:

• Give each character a clear role tied to the theme.

• Create distinct silhouettes that are recognizable at a glance.

• Let personality influence appearance.

Tontorus’s fiery red tones and imposing presence immediately signal danger, shaping Kali’s fear and misunderstanding. Kali’s expressive reactions reflect her emotional exhaustion and determination to uncover the truth when no one else believes her.

Sketch freely at this stage. Focus on emotion and clarity, not polish.

3. Build a World Readers Want to Explore

Kids love worlds that feel magical yet grounded—places that seem bigger than the page but still follow understandable rules.

The Mannamong blends everyday life with a hidden spiritual realm, much like Dorothy stepping into Oz. Kali’s ordinary town masks a deeper reality revealed through dreams, storms, and subtle shifts in nature. Readers uncover these secrets alongside her.

When building your world:

• Start small and familiar, then expand as the story requires.

• Define clear rules—what’s possible, what’s not, and why.

• Maintain visual consistency through color, symbols, and motifs.

In The Mannamong, Kali learns about Xemn—a spiritual energy tied to nature that allows mannamong to interact with the human world. The system has limits, which helps keep the magic believable.

Worldbuilding doesn’t need to be exhaustive. It just needs to feel intentional and alive.

4. Write the Script

A graphic novel script sits somewhere between a screenplay and a storyboard. You’ll break scenes into pages and panels, describing both dialogue and visual action.

For example:

Page 88, Panel 6:
Kali slumps over her desk, exhausted. Her mother, Vianne, stands beside her, glancing between Kali and the computer screen.

Vianne:
“Kali, don’t lean your face on the desk like that.”
“…What are you…?”

Each panel should communicate emotion, pacing, and movement. Keep dialogue concise—young readers respond best to rhythm and visual flow.

Simple tools like Google Docs, Scrivener, or Notion are more than enough for scripting. Clarity matters more than software.

5. Storyboard and Thumbnail

Before committing to finished art, create thumbnails—small, rough sketches of each page. This is where you solve pacing, composition, and visual storytelling.

Early thumbnails for The Mannamong helped refine how Kali’s dreams echoed real-world events. Many panels began as rough figures before evolving into detailed illustrations filled with light and motion.

At this stage:

• Prioritize clarity over detail.

• Experiment with angles and framing.

• Guide the reader’s eye naturally across the page.

Strong thumbnails can save countless hours later.

6. Illustrate and Ink

Once layouts are set, begin final illustration. Whether you work digitally or traditionally, choose tools that support consistency and comfort.

For The Mannamong, pages begin with digital pencils followed by clean black-and-white inks in Procreate. This approach keeps attention on expression and movement while echoing classic fantasy storytelling.

Helpful tips:

• Maintain clean, readable linework.

• Use contrast to guide emotion and focus.

• Work in batches to keep style consistent.

7. Add Color and Lettering

Color brings emotion to life. It establishes mood, tension, and warmth in ways linework alone can’t.

In The Mannamong, pages are colored in Procreate, then refined in Photoshop with subtle glow effects to enhance the magical atmosphere.

When coloring:

• Limit your palette to reinforce mood.

• Use warm tones for safety, cool tones for mystery.

• Keep lettering clean and readable—classic white balloons endure for a reason.

Choose fonts that match your tone: softer for warmth, more structured for fantasy or drama.

8. Edit, Proof, and Polish

Before publishing, review your work in print or digital proofs. Share it with beta readers—especially parents, teachers, and children in your target age range.

This stage helped refine pacing and simplify dialogue in The Mannamong. The goal isn’t perfection—it’s emotional clarity.

Ask yourself:

• Can the story be understood visually?

• Does each page encourage the next?

• Does the dialogue sound natural for a child?

Revision is where good stories become great.

9. Publish and Share

Once finished, you have several options:

• Self-publish through platforms like Shopify, Substack, Amazon KDP, IngramSpark or Kickstarter with small offset print runs.

• Pitch to publishers specializing in children’s graphic novels

• Share chapters online to build an audience first

The Mannamong began as a webcomic before becoming a self-published full-color print series available through the author’s website and Amazon.

If this is your first project, start small. A 32–40 page story is enough to demonstrate your voice and vision.

10. Keep the Wonder Alive

Completing a graphic novel is an accomplishment—but what sustains it is love for the story itself. Kids can feel sincerity on the page.

Every chapter of The Mannamong carries a quiet message of hope: that light exists even when it’s unseen, and courage often begins with compassion. That emotional truth—not technical perfection—is what turns a book into something lasting.

So begin. Sketch the first panel. Write the first line. Every great world starts with belief.

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Michael finished a page this week that made me stop and stare. I can’t show the full thing, but here’s a section of it. The level of detail he insists on is… well, “obsessive” is the loving word I’ll use.

We’ve been balancing:

• finishing Volume 3 pages

• selling at “Atomic Bazaar” marketplace

• testing new ad creatives

• sketching future merch

• and keeping the “Hope is Real” messaging front and center

Some weeks are chaotic.
Some are smooth.
This one was a little of both.

If you enjoy seeing the creative chaos behind the scenes, hit the ♥️ — it helps new readers discover us.

Something I find fascinating, looking back on my old ideas, is seeing which ideas ended up being scrapped. As I learned how to write better over the years, I became more insightful about which ideas needed to be fleshed out, rewritten, or ignored for being inessential. Previously, I mentioned how Tontorus went through a complete rework of who he was and his origins. Kali hardly changed as a character, just fleshed out with defined traits as I wrote the plot. However, one of her most significant changes was her family.

The Omitted Members

I initially had planned for Kali to have been raised by an older sister instead of her mother. In addition, she also had a 13-year-old older brother with whom she was close. It was between these two she struggled to keep Tonto’s existence a secret. Especially her brother, who was suspicious towards her the most. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t give her parents, but I thought having siblings would’ve given Kali more interesting interactions within her immediate family.

Eventually, I changed the older sister into Vianne, Kali’s mother. And over time, I tried to think of ideas I wanted to take with the older brother character but decided to drop him when I thought he was redundant for the story by the time I was writing the first chapter. Also, I thought it would’ve been difficult for Vianne to raise both a teenager and a little girl together when I decided to make her a young mother, teetering on paycheck to paycheck while living a simplistic wilderness lifestyle.

The older brother would’ve eventually become aware of the mannamong and be strung along into Kali’s adventures, being the protective older brother to keep her out of danger. I also had ideas of him having his own character arc and stories, almost like a B plot. But Tontorus took priority over him in the end with these ideas. And he was more critical for the overall theme anyway as the primary focus of the mannamong. Plus, I needed Kali to be and feel all alone when tackling mannamong issues. At first, at least. Because it’s supposed to help shape her arc and would’ve spared me from continuously using a formulaic series of events of her trying to hide them from her family.

I thought maybe her parents passed away, which was why her older sister watched over her siblings. But the death of the parents had no impact on Kali’s upbringing and characterization. And honestly, Kali’s original absent, nameless parents were always an afterthought for me. And in time, so was the old siblings’ idea. So I reworked her family to be entirely focused only on her mother.

Vianne’s Role as a Mother

Because of how much of a blank slate the sister character was, she acted as a template for me to create Vianne, the mother of this family. Even though the sister idea was dropped, I kept the brother idea around much longer. I had initially planned to have Vianne’s age be in her mid to late thirties, at the very least, considering the ages of her two kids. But when drawing her throughout high school and college, I had difficulty finding the right look that fit her age and satisfied me. I’d either draw her looking too old or too young. I couldn’t find the middle ground for the age range I wanted because I was looking for a gentle, mature motherly figure that fitted Vianne’s character. Eventually, after I graduated from college, I decided on a younger look as I thought having her be a young single mother would add interesting context to her story. Canonically, she is currently 28 years old. By this time, I dropped the teenage son and had Vianne focus her motherhood solely on Kali. This decision gave Kali a far more intimate relationship with someone I felt she needed in the final draft.

As I said, the biggest hurdle that I kept running into when writing Kali was how to keep her life centered around the mannamong, separate from her family life. Merely because I wanted her to be involved in their activities. Reducing the family to just one parent helped, but that wasn’t enough. To make a compelling story, I had to make that divide more like a wedge stuck between what her life was like before and after. There needed to be an emotional connection to her ordinary life that was being interfered with the mannamong. And my old ideas for her original family didn’t captivate me until I focused purely on Vianne. She is meant to be the cornerstone of Kali’s development going forward. Like how real-life parents are supposed to be. And for Kali to grow, she had to be forced off the nest.

But more importantly, I figured that instead of completely detaching any connection to The Mannamong from her family, I decided she learned about them from her mother. And when her life is thrown upside down, she is distraught when her mother fails to notice the spirits she herself introduced to Kali in an ironic twist. It’s to be expected a mother and child are close, but the mannamong bedtime stories are the main connecting threads to their bond. So when I tried to come up with a beginning issue to kickstart the comic, I thought maybe the stories were something Vianne told to Kali when she was sick to make her feel better. To have hope in her recovery that guardian spirits may be watching over her. All built upon her mother’s attempts to comfort her.

Minimizing Kali’s family taught me a lot in reducing your cast and finding the relationships your protagonist needs to develop that ultimately matter. So, while it would’ve been interesting to see her have spats and tender moments with her older siblings, focusing on the mother became more important. Now, as for her father… That’s a subject I’m still working on for the possible future. So I’ll leave it at that.

If you read The Mannamong up to the time of this post’s release, including my previous behind-the-scenes blogs about the original ideas I had of writing a “girl befriends creature” story, you’re probably wondering how and why Kali and Tontorus start not getting along. Why does the final draft of the comic start with hostility? If the original plan was to have them become close friends, why was he introduced as the antagonist? Well, when I finally decided to begin drawing the comic, I hit a snag that’s very common to writing fiction—starting the story.

For years, I had an idea, but not a coherent narrative with a point to it. I originally had the story start with Kali finding Tontorus in the rain alone at a park on her way home from school, looking like a lost puppy. As explained in my Tontorus post, he had amnesia. So their interactions were primarily based on exploring his forgotten past while keeping him hidden from the public. What got me stuck was understanding what KIND of relationship Kali and Tonto would share… Because it originated on a blank open slate, with Tontorus having no memory to reflect a defining personality. This also made it difficult for me to write Kali being responsive to his actions without coming across as a flat character herself. Furthermore, I didn’t know what message I was trying to tell about their relationship, which was a serious problem since it was always meant to be the heart of the story.

By the time I was graduating from college, I had studied how to write fiction through online articles or YouTube videos. I still do to this day. So I realized their first encounter had to be impactful. It needed to start whatever kind of story it was going to become. And I knew it needed to be a moment that would shape these characters’ future together. After all, good stories are about the journey from how you began the adventure compared to how you end it. That’s why Tontorus changed from being someone who forgot his identity to becoming a character heavily identified by something hard to ignore. And I believe that’s either two things: a pleasant memory or a traumatic experience. And stories are all about conflict.

So I went with the latter and gave poor Kali a hard time with her first encounter with the mannamong, which could only mean one thing for me. If I wanted Kali and Tontorus to bond like I originally planned, this had to be a redemption story. Great! I now knew my overall theme. And while I’d like to explain more about how this will come to be, I’ll leave it for now until I get there. For now, I’ll talk about the ideas that led me to how they began on the wrong foot.

Kali’s Fevers

I knew that for the relationship and story to work, whatever Tontorus does to Kali had to be something I felt was bad, but not heinous enough to make him appear irredeemable for readers. I was very conscious of this because I wanted readers to question his actions without being completely turned off by him. Especially when the time comes for his redemptive arc to begin, I decided the story would be told from Kali’s point of view, and she had to be curious about his treatment of her. So his crime against her couldn’t be too severe, but it had to be personal.

When polishing Vianne’s character and bringing more focus to her bond with Kali, I thought the conflict Tontorus delivers should come between the two. And what’s more troubling for a loving parent than having their child deal with a severe illness beyond their control to cure? Having Kali struggle with intense fevers from an unknown cause would not only leave her mother feeling helpless, but also torment her with a pain she’d long to be rid of. So when she discovers it was a spirit responsible and not a virus, she would develop a grudge. What’s more, her feelings and thoughts towards him would grow more confused when he continues to haunt her without making her sick. Writing Tontorus as a runaway hiding behind Kali became the foundation of the plot, and her dealing with it would be the journey.

So eventually, the two would have to settle their business one way or the other. Kali’s view of Tontorus starts shaky due to the contradictory nature she was told of the mannamong by her mother. This was the twist I hoped would hook readers into reading more because this attack flips her perspective on the guardians she expected them to be. Tontorus, being the source of misery between Kali and Vianne, was enough trouble, but now these mannamong tales that gave her hope are called into question.

The story now had a path to follow: Understanding Tontorus and why he goes against everything good, Vianne told Kali about the mannamong. And what would she do to escape the mess he dragged her into? That all depends on how she decides to treat him for making her sick.

In terms of who was the first character I created for The Mannamong, it’s either Kali or Tontorus, but I cannot remember. Either way, Tontorus would be the main focus of the mannamong. Sometimes, he was written as the main protagonist in my early drafts. Overshadowing Kali in prominence due to the plot centering around him. It wasn’t until I started working on the final version today, after graduating from college, that I decided Kali would be the main lead. This was primarily due to the drastic change in Tonto’s characterization…

In the early script

Initially, I planned Tontorus to have amnesia. He wished to uncover his mysterious background and forgotten past, while other characters in the story were trying to capture or take advantage of him for their shadowy purposes. The first few villains I came up with were mysterious figures of high authority, both on the human and mannamong side, who knew who he was and what he was capable of. This led Kali to become protective of him, and Tontorus wanted to fully understand his history and identity.

Kali would’ve found him in a vacant park on a stormy day after school. Trying to hide him from her family and the public as they bonded. Their first encounter was mainly based on a mutual fascination. Wanting to learn more about others’ life and their kind. Tontorus’s fuzzy memory would’ve been key to what brought the mannamong to earth, as he was a priority of interest. Not just because of who he was, but because of how he got to the human world. The mannamong didn’t want to be noticed by humans, and Tontorus was a hazard to draw attention to because his fire powers were considered dangerous. As a result, he was hunted down by Scorch to take him away from Kali before his presence was known by humanity.

When I rewrote the comic after changing many old ideas (such as turning the mannamong into spirits to make it easier for Kali to be the only one to interact with them), I wondered what Tontorus’ past would be about. And how Kali and Tontorus would uncover it. In the end, I couldn’t think of anything satisfying because of one overlooked detail that made me realize the story wasn’t interesting enough for me—Tontorus himself.

I noticed how much of a blank slate he was as a character. Like Kali, he was reactionary to the plot unfolding before him. I realized it would’ve been hard for readers to connect with the two main characters, who hardly had any agency. His old personality was characterized by being naive and gullible because of his amnesia. Often takes anything at face value that might be a clue to his past, even if it would lead to unwise decisions. Kali would’ve been the one to steer him away from those choices, acting as his moral compass against those trying to take advantage of him. This setup and relationship did not work well enough for me to find it exciting or memorable.

The change in Tontorus

So, like with Kali, I flipped the old idea around and experimented with the infamy approach. What if his past was laid out right from the get-go instead of being a mystery? Explaining why other characters are after him. How would Kali react to it? Would she want to help him if he had a dark past that was created by his own actions? This led to a complete overhaul of his character—a runaway criminal with a dark past, hiding behind Kali as a shield.

Once I came up with the lore of the mannamong being spiritual guides to humanity, I took Tontorus’ role a step further. Bringing Kali misery before they are properly introduced to each other by giving her intense fevers. This new form of conflict will be elaborated on further in a separate post. But the main takeaway from this was how this changed Tontorus into becoming a completely different character than I originally planned.

He was now a spiteful being, dragging this poor girl into his mess. This not only added a more engaging relationship between the two, but it also made the introduction to the mannamong world and its characters more meaningful and memorable. He became a contradiction to Kali’s impression of them through his treatment of her.

Being more direct about his backstory brought up many ideas that made him stand out from the other characters. Because now, he has very distinct relationships. Not just with Kali, but for humanity and the mannamong all together. His backstory has always been the lynchpin for this story, but it didn’t have as much of an impact until I decided to make him a rogue mannamong.

In the end, Tontorus became a character who was consumed by his past.

As the main protagonist of The Mannamong, Kali Teal has grown with me for more than half of my life since I came up with the character in middle school. And throughout that time, the amount of detail I invested in her look and role greatly changed. Like I mentioned in my previous post, Lilo and Stitch inspired me to create The Mannamong by focusing on the relationship between a girl and a creature. But I had ideas to turn that story into something far grander for the child to explore with the creature she befriends. So first off, let’s talk about her appearance.

Upon comparing the two, it’s probably no surprise that Lilo inspired much of Kali’s design. I hadn’t nailed down her current look when I was younger, considering I was still a newbie at drawing, but the two were similar in my mind. The skin tone and big nose were the most defining traits they ended up sharing in the end.

I wasn’t sure how to make Kali stand out for a long time. But when I learned about the silhouette approach to drawing in college, I thought her nose would help make her stand out by emphasizing its shape. This was also influenced by Jeff Smith’s Bone, which I was reading at the time. Whose main character, Fone Bone, was drawn with a cartoonish design reminiscent of Pogo and other early sequential art styles. So that somewhat inspired Kali’s proportions as well, with her large hands and feet. That comic also influenced my inking style for The Mannamong. Nowadays, people point out her nose too much. Making me a bit self-conscious about how consistently and prominently I make it every time I draw her. Heh. So mission accomplished, I suppose?

She originally had long black hair, probably longer than Lilo’s. Her age shifted over the years from being as young as six to ten. I eventually settled on making her eight years old. When working on my art during my last two years of college, I shortened her hair when I realized she looked too similar to her mother, Vianne. The design of her unkempt hair was inspired by the concept art of Princess Garnet from Final Fantasy 9. So I went for this messy look to fit her upbringing of living in the woods and dealing with rapid fevers. Instead of the straight, refined hair I originally planned to give her. Besides, I have another character in mind who would interact with Kali that I would prefer to provide that look for instead…

Kali’s daytime outfit was also heavily inspired by a combination of the outfits worn by Garnet and another character named Eiko. The color scheme is based on the original main look I gave to Kali back in the day: a lavender sweater with olive green cargo pants.

In the early script

Looking back, I’m honestly drawing a blank on how I wrote her as a character because she was so reactionary to the mannamong characters while learning everything about their world. She was a surrogate audience kind of character, and still is to some extent. But this came with the expense of lacking a defining personality to work with. After college, I eventually understood this; it prompted a drastic change to the story and her relationship with Tontorus for the final draft. Still, again, that’s another topic I want to cover later.

So if I had this character for so long and I wasn’t sure what her story was even about, why didn’t I scrap her for a more interesting main lead? Did I have to have a human as the main character in a story about “The Mannamong”? The main takeaway is that she was always planning to significantly influence Tonto’s arc. Since this story is primarily about them, she would’ve befriended him right away and did her best to help him in some way that would’ve made Tontorus grow to care for her well-being. I even had ideas of her aging throughout the story as Tontorus adjusts to being the rock to her emotional development. And I like the novelty of following a protagonist who grows from a child into an adult.

The change in Kali

All in all, Kali is meant to be the heart of the series. And that required having a theme in which she reflects that, just like family, is the message to Lilo and Stitch. So when it came to Kali’s inquiry to The Mannamong, I decided to flip the story upside its head. What if she was getting what she wanted, but not in a pleasant manner? How would she react? Would she behave negatively to her circumstances or turn them around for good? Would she be able to at her maturity level? These were the kind of questions that popped up as I wrote the first chapter. And without spoiling too much ahead, I decided it’s all about her journey. How she handles it would reflect the comic’s central message. And a lot of that involves how she sees Tontorus.

Hey all. I wanted to share the history of The Mannamong, how I came up with my original ideas, and how it evolved over time with a series of posts, starting with the initial concepts I had for the two main leads, Kali and Tontorus.

The whole thing came to be when I was finishing elementary school and starting middle school. Ideas would come inspired by other fictional works that I grew up watching and reading that would make up the entire premise. But one story that kickstarted the process was Lilo and Stitch.

When that movie initially came out in 2002, I wanted to write and draw a similar story. The thing that ultimately stuck out to me compared to other animated films, including Disney’s own catalog, was how the movie used Hawaii’s culture to tie into the story’s heartfelt message: “That no one gets left behind.” In addition to enjoying Lilo and Stitch’s characterization and relationship, I wanted to create my own version of that kind of story when a girl with a troubled past encounters a rebellious being from another world.

The idea I played with in my head throughout the years was imagining the two going on many adventures after developing a deep bond. Over time, their designs were shaped to stand off on their own, separate from the inspiration of Lilo and Stitch. But I still struggled to come up with a proper introduction for how the two would meet, how they would become friends, and what was the overall point of them being together. The Mannamong didn’t truly start until after I graduated from college in 2015 with my goals dead set on seriously crafting a story with these characters one day. And that was when I realized I had a key issue. I had no antagonist.

Like with Lilo taking in Stitch, who’s destructive personality was a handful for her to tame, I thought the best course was to have Kali and Tontorus start off on opposite ends, which helped me deliver the twist to the mannamong: Spirits of nature who were meant to help humanity with one rogue that haunts her.

I decided to make the mannamong spirits of nature to work in line with Kali’s background. While there’s no connection to real-life locations and tribes, I took inspiration from Native American and Mesoamerican cultures to make up Kali’s ethnicity. I built the artistic themes around those elements. Having her mother tell her bedtime stories about them, she grew up seeing them as guardians watching over her. And meeting one who treated her otherwise created the plot I needed.

As to where this rocky relationship is heading, I’ll leave it to you to read the story and find out. But the biggest takeaway I gained from holding on to these characters for so long and honing my skills as an artist and writer is this: Ideas never truly begin the way they start in your head. Over time, I worked hard, molding these two to become the best I could possibly make them. And I hope that how their story plays out will inspire many new generations that feel just as moved as I did by that classic animated flick.

So let me start with how The Mannamong came to be.

I feel it’s important to note that I’ve been working on this story since I was 12 years old. This will help others understand the time and dedication involved and maybe inspire them not to give up on their dreams.

I don’t remember exactly when and how the idea came to me, but I know it was around the very early years of my middle school life. I had always liked playing pretend stories with my friends and narrating events with toys (mostly, it was Legos) when not playing video games.

They were almost always about popular TV/Movie characters at the time. But this idea I had of a little girl encountering a mystical creature and befriending it led to a series of different scenarios and adventures plaguing the daydreaming mind. I soon started to write these ideas down and decided I wanted to create this for real. From then on, I knew I wanted to turn this story into my IP somehow. At the time, though, I still wasn’t sure how to express it and in which medium it would be.

Discovering my purpose​

Since I like drawing more than writing, I did doodles like every young aspiring artist. And I knew I wanted The Mannamong to have visuals as its foundation. So writing a novel was immediately off the table. The three principal ideals were to make it a video game, a comic, or an animated television show. At first, I wanted it to be a video game since I naively believed I could program one easily. I did partake in courses on video game design that my mother signed me up for, but I quickly learned it wasn’t as easy as I thought. Nor did I have the patience for it.

With that clearing my vision, I decided I wanted it animated. Like that’s any easier, huh? Although I still dream of having my work animated, I knew I couldn’t do it alone. So, my only option left was to do comics. It seemed like the single viable approach I alone could do. It helped that I liked to draw characters from my favorite shows, movies, and games. I remember making trading cards of said characters for fun with my friends. And everyone who ever saw my art liked it: my peers, teachers, and parents.

Over the years, as I trudged along throughout middle and high school, I kept my doodles, notes, and crude storyboards to myself as I continually tried to polish and hone my skills to make the story more concise. I did not use all of my ideas. Some stayed, some got renewed, and some were new in favor of the old ideas. A lot of revisions have happened over the years. Today, it’s a different product compared to how I initially started it back then, but that’s another story for a different time.

The point is, The Mannamong gave me a goal. It gave me a desire to go to a college that could give me the skills to turn this project into a professional IP and meet the right people to help make it come true. I was still reworking my ideas, so much that I must’ve rewritten the story more than ten times. But my passion kept encouraging me subconsciously because I wanted to do it. I wouldn’t be writing all this if that desire were ever so fleeting.

The best part of this journey was that more story ideas emerged. Now, even if my magnum opus fails me, I’ll have other ideas I’d like to have come to fruition. But I know it won’t fail me, and neither will the other cool stories I want to share with you all. These years gave me a lot of creative content and peace of mind.

I’m well aware of how difficult this journey is. Heck, I know I’m not the only visionary in the world. So what makes me different? Well, I struggle and continue to struggle sometimes emotionally about my perseverance. But it’s all I’ve got to make my life meaningful and fun. And it really wouldn’t be a journey if it were smooth sailing, now would it? I try my best to look at everything through a story mindset. I’ve been enamored with storytelling since I wanted to create my fictional work.

And here we are now. Ten years out of school, two volumes already out, and a third on the way. That’s my beginning.

Let’s see where it goes.