This is that time of year we either stress out completely or find things to be grateful for…or both. I have enough things to stress about all year, so at the moment I will take a deep breath and think of positive things until I gag. As a not-so- subtle nod to the late Oprah show…here are a few of my favorite things about cartooning:

Being hit with the proverbial bolt of lightning. It’s not often I don’t scrape the bottom of the barrel for that one great gag that makes people hit the side of their heads and exclaim, “Why didn’t I think of that?” That’s why those exceptional ideas are like manna from heaven. It doesn’t happen often, and when it does, I perform a little mental victory dance. Better yet, that one great idea often spawns several more…and that just makes my day.

Coloring comics. Yes, I know there are cartoonists who hire interns or family members to do their coloring or inking in order to save time. I don’t know if I’m just a control freak or what, but I’d hate to turn over my pen and Photoshop software to someone else. Besides, coloring my comics is my ultimate joy. I find it relaxing. It’s usually when I get to turn on the TV or radio in the background and void my brain of thoughts. Who knew it could be so zen? I enjoyed coloring in grade school and apparently I still do.

Getting nice feedback. Yeah, I’m a sucker for it. I love seeing emails with subject headers like, “I love your strip!” The ultimate antidote to hater emails (which, thankfully, I don’t receive too often), these are usually full of general praise or praise for specific strips. (Then there are the ones that make me cringe — that start off with “I love your strip, but…” and ultimately end with a grievance about a particular one.) But the love mail gives me a huge boost. What can I say, flattery gets me everywhere.

Getting in a new paper. (or clawing my way back into a newspaper that once dropped me – either works) It’s like a tingly little thrill when I hear about a new paper that’s picked up the strip…especially when so many papers are shutting down. Most of the time I try not to think about drops/pickups (it gives me an ulcer), but it’s always a treat when it works out.

Meeting other cartoonists. Whether it’s in person or on Facebook, it’s wonderful to be part of this tight-knit community. Most cartoonists are such lovely people, it’s hard to believe I’m often competing fiercely with some for spots (again, I try not to think about it…ulcerville). I’ve made some wonderful new friends because of this job. The tough part is only getting to see them once every other year or so. But it’s always enjoyable…and often rowdy. Did I mention these people can drink?

So there it is. On that note of positivity, I’d like to wish everyone happy holidays and a wonderful, stress-free new year. Enjoy!

It’s once again the annual Jay Kennedy Memorial Scholarship!

Do you cartoon? You could win a $5,000 scholarship and a trip to Las Vegas to meet the top names in cartooning. Don’t delay – the deadline is December 15. Applicants must be students at a 4-year college in the United States, Canada or Mexico who will be a Junior or Senior during the 2012-2013 academic year. Applicants do not have to be art majors to be eligible for this scholarship.

The annual Jay Kennedy Memorial Scholarship, in memory of the late King Features editor, was funded by an initial $100,000 grant from the Hearst Foundation/King Features Syndicate and additional generous donations from Jerry Scott, Jim Borgman, Patrick McDonnell and many other prominent cartoonists. Submissions are adjudicated by a panel of top cartoonists and an award is given to the best college cartoonist. The recipient is feted at the annual NCS Reuben Awards Convention attended by many of the world’s leading cartoonists.

It’s no secret that I’m a writer for American Greetings. I’ve been with the company for – eek – almost 19 years now. I was hired full-time to be an in-house humorous writer/illustrator. These days, I have a part-time contract, and I exclusively write (no illustrating, which only sucks for the sheer fact that I can’t enter the Reuben Award card division. Eh.).

Anyway…I say this because I just ran a story series based on my kids discovering a few adult-themed cards lying around my desk. Normally I’m pretty careful about keeping them hidden, but occasionally I slip. These weren’t X-rated cards per se – not like some I wrote in the 90’s (my nickname? “Dirty Terri”) — but “unclean” enough for young eyes. One positive thing came out of it: it sparked this idea:

It’s like I always say: if you can’t be a model parent, then write a story arc about it.

Back when I first started “The Pajama Diaries,” I discovered that I don’t always write good strips…but, man, am I good at fixing them.

My late editor, Jay, used to comment on this. Sometimes I feel like a comic strip doctor, capable of dissecting and resuscitating a nearly deceased piece of writing. Of course, this can only happen after a period of time when I’ve achieved some mental distance. Which, in turn, requires me to sit on the writing for a while.

I don’t know if this stems from earlier years of card editing and rewriting…or if it’s from pure laziness. Just kidding. Rewriting a strip is often harder than writing one from scratch. But I’ve found that it’s one of my stronger suits. And there’s nothing more satisfying than taking an old piece of copy that’s on the verge of greatness (well, maybe goodness), and bringing it home. Check out these three examples, which I wrote in order, within the span of about 5 months.

This last strip became one of my favs. And it certainly needed that final polishing. Goes to show that you might not start with a winner, but with a little tlc and a lot of patience, you could end up with one.

Funny little story: Pajama Diaries was recently picked up by The Toronto Star (yahoo!). Earlier in July, I was told it might start during the week of July 25. In a panic, I looked up the strips that would be published that week (I write 5 months in advance now, so I usually lose track of what’s running in the present). Anyway, I noticed there were two risqué strips running back-to-back. One of them I wasn’t so worried about. But the following strip REALLY worried me. These are the two comics:

Bet you know where I’m going with this. A brand new strip with an f-bomb debut? … I was afraid I’d be booted from the Star before the week was even over. My editor and I decided it wasn’t worth the risk. So we replaced it with this one:

The day came…I noticed the replacement strip was up on the King Features Daily Ink site (nice plug, eh?). I went about my business. Later that week, my husband mentioned that his coworker’s teenaged son LOVED my Tuesday strip. I was confused…the one about the massage? That didn’t connect. No, my husband replied, the one with the f-bomb.

Wait, WHAT? That made even less sense. I had it replaced! A few emails later, I learned that it was only replaced on the website, NOT in the papers. Oops. So we waited for the angry emails from horrified new readers. None came (at least, not to my inbox. The paper might be a different story)

The lesson? It never fails: the strips that I think are going to invite negative email rarely do. You might as well cue the crickets and tumbleweeds. And of course, the most innocuous ones will inevitably draw the most criticism. I guess the one thing I’ve learned is that I really shouldn’t try to second guess myself too much. It pays to just write from the heart.

Or in this case, from the gutter.

About once a year, I get the parody bug. I’m not sure if it’s the closet songstress in me or what, but I have tremendous fun making up spoofy tunes. I’ve done about four of them so far, and the bug is starting to bite again. I work about five months ahead, so maybe the next one will be holiday-themed. We’ll see.

Anyway, these take up a considerable amount of mental energy, which is probably why I only do them once a year. The lengthiest so far was from early 2011: a Lady Gaga knock-off.

I have a feeling readers either love or hate these parodies, depending how patient they are (or how much pop culture knowledge they possess, as in the case of Gaga). Well, love or hate ‘em, here they are in all their glory. If you have 10 minutes and great vision, please enjoy!

Is it me? Am I alone here? Based on blogs and articles I’ve read, I’m guessing…no. What am I talking about, you ask? I’m talking about tweens and teens disguised as hoochie mamas. This is more than just a pet peeve. I’m literally scared for womankind. I’m scared my daughters will be judged solely on their “hotness.” For pete’s sake, last year my 7-year-old told me a classmate had called her “hot.” I asked her what that means and she shrugged.

I’m all for a girl feeling attractive, but come ON. I’ve seen acrylic fingernails on a 6-year-old. I’ve seen words written across the butts of toddlers’ pants. I’ve seen cleavage where cleavage shouldn’t be. I’ve also observed so much makeup and hair extensions on celebrity kids, they resemble Bratz dolls more than…well, Bratz dolls. And don’t get me started on my kids’ favorite store, “Justice”…my washing machine is constantly full of glitter.

Yes, this is nothing new, but I worry it’s getting worse. There’s a lot of superficiality everywhere. I try to preach “inner beauty” to my kids. I hope it’s sinking in. I have a feeling it’ll continue to be my hot button (no pun intended), and will spawn more comic material as my kids mature. Just another level of feminism to heap onto the pile.

This brings to mind something that occurred in our household the other night. Our family was watching the one and only reality show we’re addicted to: “Chopped” (Food Network). As usual, we tried to guess who would be eliminated in each round. My older daughter said, “The lady will get chopped because ALL the girls do.” That did it. I went off on a 10-minute tirade, explaining that by statistics alone, all the women should be eliminated because usually there’s only 1 female chef among the 4 contestants. Of course, sometimes the girls do win.

Anyway, I also told her those women had to work very hard to prove themselves in a predominantly male field (much like cartooning and humor writing, I might add). I think she paid more attention to my hysterics than to my actual words, but let’s hope something got through…I don’t go off on feminist tirades very often.

I’m not sure what my point is. I think I’m venting. Let’s just hope I can someday look back on this blog entry and laugh at everything I was worried about. If anything, for my kids’ sake.

Occasionally, someone will ask how I came up with The Pajama Diaries characters’ names. The characters were named very intentionally. First and foremost, I wanted short, quick names that don’t take up much space because, if you haven’t noticed, the strip can get texty. The only exception to this rule is “Perfectville.” Here are the brief explanations behind the rest:

Jill is my middle name. It’s short and punchy, like me. It’s more anonymous and less androgynous than Terri. And it still allows some association to seep through.

Rob is a nice, short name that has no real ties to anything. I could’ve used my husband’s perfectly fine middle name, Aaron, but in my opinion it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Just sayin.’

Amy is named after my closest friend. We grew up blocks from each other and unfortunately live far apart now. This is my way of paying tribute to our longtime friendship. Originally, I could’ve named the character “Samantha” (my older daughter’s middle name), but I think we see the obvious problem. And a shorter “Sam” would’ve been confusing, gender-wise. Especially in the early years when the character looked like a boy in drag.

Jess is simply my younger daughter’s shortened middle name, Jessica.

Lisa and Nanci are completely made up. “Lisa” is pretty common for my generation. “Nanci” is a slight nod at my older daughter, whose name is also spelled unconventionally.

Kaplan is the family’s surname. I like it because it’s obviously Jewish, but not overly stereotypical. I have a few friends with the last name, Kaplan, so it has a nice connotation.

Little-known fact: Jill’s maiden name is “Davidodavitz” (a takeoff on my husband’s old family name, “Davidowitz”). I originally came up with it for a comic strip gag, but I’ll be re-introducing it down the road (the above panel is a sneak peak).

So that’s it in a nutshell. One funny little tidbit: “Mike” was the main character’s name of an old comic strip I used to write. It also happens to be my husband’s name. I wrote the strip before I met him (insert eerie music here). Yeah, yeah, okay, but I think it’s uncanny.

I’m floored. Now I know why these syndication contracts are so long…no one tells you how fast the time really flies. This 5-year milestone of Pajama Diaries is a big deal. Probably because I worked my butt off for twice that amount of time to get said contract. To mark this occasion, I’m all for a bit of self-reflecting. Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep it brief.

In honor of the 5-year mark, here are the TOP 5 things that syndication has taught me:

5. Gut-wrenching heartache. Forget unrequited love. Having your creative “baby” stomped on, critiqued, and pummeled in the polls is an emotional rollercoaster. For every year of syndication, my skin has grown another layer of armor. If I hit the 10-year mark, I’ll be a virtual armadillo. NOTHING will penetrate this (or I’ll at least be able to curl up into an armored ball).

4. The power of catharsis. I display much of my own personality in the strip. I’m totally exposed: the good, bad and just plain daft. PD is essentially a diary within a diary. Traditional therapy is expensive, but this is pays ME. Maybe I’m onto something here.

3. Appreciation. Not that I’m not ordinarily appreciative. But syndication has made me even more so. I’m appreciative of the readers who write to me, of the editors that pick up the strip, and especially of the editors that continue to run it after the obligatory week-long trial run. I’m also appreciative of my poor family that reassures me every time I’m on one of my poll-related rollercoaster rides. I’m appreciative of the hard-working syndicate folks, and I’m appreciative of my friends who still like me even though I’ve become an isolated, workaholic hermit with no social skills. Oh, and I’m appreciative of my alone time.

2. Time Management. Not an organized person? Bad with deadlines? Here’s the answer: get a syndication deal! Suddenly the daily deadlines will force you to become type A! Actually, I already am, so this is a well-suited job. Even so, I really didn’t know the meaning of “organized” until my launch. That was quite an awakening. But I made it…even with small children in tow. Now I feel like I can pretty much conquer the world. I don’t even worry about the deadlines anymore. I should…but I don’t.

1. Requited love. Yes, cartooning is an unstable business. Yes, who knows where newspapers, comics, and my own little “baby” will be in 5 more years. But I can honestly say I’m glad I’m here NOW. I have that contented feeling of someone who is doing exactly what he/she is meant to do (or has the illusion of it, anyway). I really love being a comic strip creator, and I hope to continue this career path indefinitely. And yes, there have been bumps in the road. But overall this job has given me more than I ever thought it would. Isn’t that what a meaningful relationship is about?

My debut strip, March 27, 2006:

Annnd March 27, 2011 (click on image to rotate vertically):

If you keep up with my blog, you already know that I don’t update often. It’s typically once every month or so. This time it’s been longer than usual. That’s the bad news. The good news is: I’ve been occupied by the all-consuming task of putting together the FIRST BOOK COLLECTION OF PAJAMA DIARIES STRIPS!!!

Lemme tell you, it’s been a task. My husband has had his share of it, too. He can now add “Book Editor” and “CEO” to his resume. But we’re feeling the relief of knowing it’s about to go to press. As soon as I have the publication date, I will post it all over this website.

In the meantime, you can pre-order “The Pajama Diaries: Déjà To-Do” on Amazon. I don’t know if it’ll arrive in time for Mother’s Day, but you can at least give your mom/wife/grandma/friend/grown daughter/neighbor, etc. an I.O.U. in their greeting card.

That’s all, folks. Now I leave for vacation. I think I’ve earned it!

Happy New Year! Let’s start off 2011 with the most captivating topic I can conjure up. I don’t think it’s any secret that I like to approach this off-limit topic in the funnies: you got it…sex. Also known as its watered-down, print-worthy euphemism, “intimacy.”

I think sex is an honest and intrinsic (well, let’s hope) part of marriage, and therefore I deem it a necessary subject in my brand of story-telling. We’re talking about fleshing out a narrative that runs through the mind of a married woman. If sex isn’t occasionally on her mind, well…she definitely wouldn’t be my alter ego (sorry if you’re reading this, Mom).

Actually, as far as the character goes, I also cover the lack of sex on the mind. Or, I should say, the lack of time and inclination. After all, she’s an exhausted working mom.

To sum up, I cover all my bases. Jill and Rob certainly try to find time for intimacy, whether it’s spontaneous or scheduled. They also find excuses not to have sex (well, she does). Whatever the case, I’m glad to broach the topic. It’s something virtually everyone is interested in. M’right?

So every year, the Kaplan family either travels to Florida to visit Jill’s mom or Jill’s mom makes the trip up north. What can I say, it’s tradition. I introduced the “Judy” character the first Thanksgiving “Pajama Diaries” launched. She makes a few reoccurrences throughout the rest of the year(s), but Thanksgiving is always all about Judy.

It’s apparent she demands attention — as she should. Originally modeled after my own mom, Judy is both a worrywart and a guilt monger. She also happens to be a widow (my dad passed away in 1996). This year, I decided to reward Judy with an early holiday gift…that is, a boyfriend.

My own mom has a long-time boyfriend of her own. He happens to be my #1 fan (in an endearing way, not the Stephen King way). I warned him I would introduce “Harvy” into the comics during this year’s Thanksgiving series. He was quite tickled. Yet that’s where the similarities end. Harvy is no doppelganger. He is own person…semi-deaf, semi-blind, and with a heart of gold (the one similarity the two share). He also happens to be Judy’s late husband’s cousin (not a similarity).

This strip above is one of my absolute favorites. I don’t know what it is about these characters; they start out derived from real people and then take on a life of their own. I suppose that’s the beauty of this medium. Anyway, I’ve always wanted to work “JDate” into a strip, and Harvy provided me with the perfect outlet. God bless him!

So… back to the Thanksgiving topic. In real life, we couldn’t actually celebrate with my mother this year, but we had a great time with family and friends. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving, too …surrounded by the inspiring characters in your life.

My poor, poor husband. He’s surrounded by estrogen. I once jokingly mentioned that when the girls are surly teens, I’ll be on my way to menopause. He craughed (that’s cry-laughed). Then he muttered something about taking a traveling consulting job.

We sporadically deal with a tidal wave of hormones gushing from our older kid. Warning to parents of very young daughters: this starts early. Even a switch to organic, non-hormonal milk hasn’t made a difference.

Now I’m not saying my daughter is a constantly erupting volcano. Most of the time she’s quite pleasant (sibling rivalry aside). In fact, I’d say this year she’s mellowed. But those hormones can sneak up without warning, catching us off guard in the most innocuous situations (much like Vesuvius). And pair that with a low blood sugar episode…well, I usually make like the wind.

To put things in perspective, she’s not the only one with the hormones (see above). I just need to hearken back to those college years when my roommates and I shared “cycles.” Those were not pretty times. But we still got through them, friendships intact. Hopefully our family will make it through the coming years much the same way.

If not…well, at least we girls have separate bedrooms.

It’s funny what readers think versus my own opinion. Sometimes I’m so close to my material, I lose all objectivity. Case in point: I remember writing my September strips (back in May) and feeling “ok” about them…but not as excited as I have been about other months’ strips.

Yet, I’ve received many compliments about this month’s batch. It figures, huh? That’s okay — it’s reassuring, really. And it goes to show just how subjective humor is. Sometimes all I want to do is write the funniest cartoons possible, but it’s usually the relatable ones that draw the most responses.

To me, the comic strip is a fluid art form – like any art form – and it doesn’t always have to be funny or clever or phenomenally artistic. Yet it can be. It is what its creator makes it to be. It is an extension of the artist, an expression. That’s one of the reasons I was drawn to this medium. I love being funny and clever and artistic…but sometimes I just want to get a message across. It’s so nice I have this outlet to do so.

So thanks to all those who made me feel good about these September strips. Somehow, despite my ambiguous feelings, I managed to get my message across. And to me, that’s a big deal.

(One of the Sept. strips — ok, technically August — I did really like that received absolutely no feedback. Eh, what can ya do?)

Okay, so I had been wondering why my blog had been a dry wasteland of responses for about 6 months. I had been getting emails no problem, but not many hits on the blog. Turns out it was one big administration blooper. Oops. My husband and I went to check on things today and discovered a geyser of responses, mainly from my E.T. posting back in March. We think it’s due to updating the site around that time – apparently something went wrong.

I sincerely apologize for this. I am overwhelmed by the sentiments in response to my Essential Thrombocytosis (E.T.) diagnosis, illustrated in the two-week series I did way back when. I’d like to mention I am doing well, my platelet count still remains steady for now.

I’d also like to repost the links to the two foundations I had mentioned in March: the MPD Foundation and the MDS Foundation. I’ll also add two other links a reader had sent: MPD-Support and MPDinfo.org. E.T. is a called an “orphan disease” because it’s so rare and therefore kind of falls under the radar for funding/research. And the three other myelodysplastic (blood) disorders certainly deserve funding as well, considering one or two of them come with limited life expectancy.

Once again, I apologize for the delayed postings. Thank you, thank you for all the words of kindness!

So my long-absent daughter has returned from camp. Funny thing, this strip series was written months before she actually left. Call it mother’s intuition, but I just knew there would be a change. And there was.

Not so much physically…I mean, aside from the tan and sun-bleached highlights we adults have to pay professional hairdressers for. No, I mean emotionally. My daughter just seems more grown up. She talks about using deodorant and shaving her legs (which have less hair on them than I have on one arm). She speaks of the enormous connection and camaraderie she shared with her bunkmates (“They’re not like the kids here, Mom. They never exclude anyone, there’s no jealousy, you know?”). She seems so mature and, well, nicer. Boy, I hope that lasts.

We’ve had discussions about puberty before, but now I’m really seeing it firsthand. I’m prepared for the physical changes – and so is she – but now I’m also considering the internal changes. The beautiful thing is, I’m getting a glimpse of the amazing woman she will become. And I’m grateful I’ll be there to witness the journey.

I recently wrote a story arc about Jill’s older daughter, Amy, going off to sleepaway camp for the first time. Yes, this is based on factual events (hey, at this point, what isn’t?). My older daughter is heading out this week for a month-long stay at a renowned camp in Indiana. For. The. Very. First. Time.

Obviously, I wrote the series well before my daughter actually leaves (a.k.a. I made stuff up). But we did have prior emotional experience. Last summer, my daughter visited her aunt in CA for a month. I really thought I’d be fine with the separation. But when we said our goodbyes at the airport gate, I saw a flash of tears in her eyes (mind you, she never shows her soft side if she can help it). That was it for me. I didn’t stop crying for two days.

Luckily, her trip worked out well and the rest of us made it through the wait intact. But the one adverse side effect I was NOT prepared for was the ensuing neediness of my younger daughter. At first, she clung to me like static cling. It made sense – there was never a time when she wasn’t under the same roof as her sister.

Thank goodness she eventually worked through her separation issues. Still, WHOA. That first week was tough. Talk about regression. In hindsight, I thought that made for some interesting material. The camp series turned out to be equally about Jess’s clinginess as Amy’s remoteness.

Oh yeah, I also made up some stuff about camper crushes. I mean, let’s face it, we know what summer’s REALLY about.

As my family knows, I usually don’t recount our happenings verbatim in the strip (other folks’ experiences…well, that’s a different story). But once in a while, some sneak in. The “Bones” incident, for example.

A few months ago I went out during the evening while my husband watched our girls. He was sitting in the bedroom, flipping around stations, while the kids did their nighttime routines of brushing, flossing, etc.

When they were finished, they came into the bedroom to keep their dad company. Well, he was watching the TV show “Bones,” and apparently decided (even though there’s a disclaimer at the beginning for graphic content) that it was completely appropriate material for a 9 and 7-year-old.

Needless to say………

Okay, so I switched “TV show” to “DVD.” But you get the picture. Let’s just say we had company in our bed for the next week. Ahem…I should say, I had company. I was the one they woke up hourly. I was the one they clung to or dragged back to their beds at 2 am. Isn’t it funny how the wife ends up paying for the husband’s mistakes? The only redeeming thing about it was Mike did eventually apologize. Only after he let the 7-year-old borrow a Stephen King novel (joke).

Movin’ on…

Mike and I did our every-other-year pilgrimage to the Reuben (cartooning) Awards in Jersey City this year. We had a lovely time and, as usual, met some new faces while enjoying time with some familiar ones. We managed to sneak to NYC as well, which rounded out the trip nicely. The only thing I did a little differently this time: I brought along my laptop and actually colored a Sunday strip in the hotel room. Some habits can’t be broken.

I finally realize the meaning of that old cliché: “I’m too young to be this old.” I swear I was just twenty-one a minute ago.

I (semi) joke to my husband that I missed the full effect of my 30th milestone because I was busy going into labor (our older daughter’s birthday is the next day). Therefore, it feels like the last two decades just came plowing into me at once.

But overall, I feel pretty darn good. The platelet count is holding steady. I have an amazing family. And, despite the last year of less-than-stellar industry-wide mojo, I’m doing my dream job. Not bad.

Still, I really thought I was above the whole getting older nonsense; alas, I’m not immune. Short of acquiring a convertible and a 20-year-old blonde floozy-on-the-side (Sven), I’m happy to play it low-key. As usual, I’m satisfied to document the whole thought process in this week’s strips.

If you’re turning the big fuh, fuh, fuh this year as well, I hope the series resounds well with you. If you’re still enjoying the glow of youth…well, get over it. It’ll be your turn, too.

Enjoy!