I Finally Got the Answer to the Question I Asked 20 Years Ago
- JP de la Rama
- 2 minutes ago
- 7 min read
I used to wonder how people actually start making comics. After Cagayanime, I finally realized the answer was much simpler than I thought.
“Sometimes you don't realize you've become an inspiration until someone asks you how to become what you are.”
Introduction: Setting the Stage
Cagayanime 2026 is over.
And honestly...
What a weekend.
Three days of noise, costumes, games, comics, animation, conversations, laughter, nervous introductions, random encounters, and people walking past our little booth.
After months of preparing Zamora Volume 1, printing the Lorebook, designing merchandise, fixing printer problems, building the booth, losing sleep, and wondering whether anyone would actually care...
It finally happened.
We opened the booth.
And people came.
Some stopped.
Some looked at the books.
Some asked questions.
Some bought.
Some smiled.
Some stared at the artwork for a few seconds and kept walking.
And some didn't even look.
And you know what?
That's okay.
Because after three days of watching thousands of people move through the convention, I realized something.
Success isn't always measured by how many people stop.
Sometimes it's measured by who does stop.
And what happens during those few minutes.
The Deep Dive: The Part Nobody Sees After You Release Your First Comic
Before Cagayanime, I was obsessed with one question:
"Will people buy Zamora?"
It made sense.
I spent months creating it.
I spent money printing it.
I was bringing physical copies to a convention.
Of course I wanted people to buy it.
But standing behind that table changed my perspective.
Because I started seeing something I couldn't see while sitting alone in my studio.
People weren't just buying a comic.
They were reacting to the fact that a local creator had actually made one.
Some people picked up Volume 1 and immediately started flipping through it.
Others asked about the characters.
Some wanted to know where the story came from.
Some asked about the artwork.
Some wanted to know whether I made everything myself.
And then there were the young artists.
Those conversations stayed with me.
They weren't asking:
"How much is it?"
They were asking:
"How did you make this?"
And eventually, one question kept coming up.
"Where do I even begin making my own comic?"
That question hit me harder than I expected.
Because I've asked that same question myself.
Decades ago.
Emotion Commits the Crime. Logic Does the Cover-Up.
For most of my career, I've had that little voice in the back of my head.
"Maybe I'm not good enough."
"Maybe nobody cares."
"Maybe there are already too many artists."
"Maybe somebody else is better."
And, of course:
"Who am I to create something like this?"
That's imposter syndrome.
And making Zamora didn't magically make it disappear.
But something happened at Cagayanime that weakened it.
A young creator looked at my work and was genuinely amazed.
Not because I'm some world-famous artist.
I'm not.
But because I was standing there in front of them saying:
"I made this."
And suddenly I wasn't just a guy drawing comics.
I was proof.
Proof that somebody from Cagayan de Oro could actually create an original graphic novel, print it, publish it, and put it on a convention table.
That realization meant more to me than I expected.
Before Zamora was released, the project inspired me.
After I released it...
It started inspiring other people.
And that's a completely different feeling.
The “Just Start Drawing Comics” Principle
So when someone asked me:
"Where do I begin?"
I gave them the simplest answer I could think of:
"Just start drawing comics."
Not:
"First, build a business plan."
Not:
"Get a publisher."
Not:
"Buy expensive equipment."
Not:
"Wait until your art is good enough."
Just...
Start.
Draw one page.
If one page feels impossible, draw one panel.
If one panel feels impossible, draw one character talking to another character.
Then upload it somewhere.
Webtoon.
Social media.
A blog.
A small zine.
A printed photocopy.
It doesn't matter.
The important thing is that you have something that didn't exist yesterday.
Then do it again.
And again.
And again.
Because that's how Zamora started too.
Not as a 100-page graphic novel.
Not as a convention product.
Not as an ISBN.
Not as a business.
It started as an idea.
Then a drawing.
Then another drawing.
Then another page.
And eventually...
It became a book.
The Small Incremental Step Principle
I call this:
The Small Incremental Step Principle.
We often look at someone else's finished work and compare it to our unfinished beginning.
That's a terrible comparison.
You see the finished graphic novel.
You don't see the terrible drawings that came before it.
You see the published book.
You don't see the abandoned pages.
You see the convention booth.
You don't see the years of wondering whether the project would ever get there.
You see the result.
You don't see the accumulation.
That's why starting small matters.
One panel becomes one page.
One page becomes five.
Five becomes a chapter.
A chapter becomes a comic.
A comic becomes a book.
A book becomes a world.
And eventually...
someone else sees that world and decides they want to create one too.
That's the part I didn't understand when I started.
What Cagayanime Taught Me About Being an Independent Creator
The convention gave me a completely different perspective on what it means to build an independent creative career.
Your First Goal Isn't Always Sales
Of course, sales matter.
They pay for printing.
They fund the next project.
They keep the business alive.
But your first convention can also be about learning.
Learning who stops.
Learning what questions people ask.
Learning which products attract attention.
Learning which characters people remember.
Learning how long people spend looking at your work.
Learning how to talk about your own creation.
Every interaction is market research.
But more importantly...
Every interaction is human.
Your Audience May Surprise You
I expected people to be interested in the comic.
I didn't expect some people to be interested in me as a local creator.
That distinction matters.
They weren't simply seeing Zamora.
They were seeing somebody from their own city actually attempting something ambitious.
And maybe that made the dream feel a little closer to them too.
Your Work Can Become Bigger Than Its Original Purpose
I created Zamora because I wanted to tell a story.
I wanted to create something rooted in Filipino mythology, horror, faith, monsters, and the strange things that make our culture interesting.
But now it has another purpose.
It tells another young artist:
"You can try this too."
That's powerful.
Before vs. After
Before Cagayanime, I was asking:
Will people buy Zamora?
I was thinking about copies.
Prices.
Merchandise.
Booth traffic.
Sales.
After Cagayanime, I'm asking:
Who will Zamora inspire?
I'm thinking about readers.
Artists.
Animators.
Game developers.
Writers.
Students.
Young creators who are still sitting at home wondering whether they are good enough to begin.
Before, I saw Zamora as my IP.
Now I see it as a signal.
A signal that says:
Someone from here can do this.
Maybe you can too.
The Local Creator Principle
There's something else I took away from this convention.
Cagayan de Oro has talent.
A lot of it.
Artists.
Writers.
Animators.
Game developers.
Illustrators.
Cosplayers.
Musicians.
Designers.
People with ideas that could become incredible things.
The problem isn't always talent.
Sometimes it's simply seeing somebody else do it first.
That's why representation matters even within a creative community.
You don't necessarily need a celebrity to inspire you.
Sometimes you just need someone from your city.
Someone you can actually meet.
Someone who can say:
"I tried it."
And then you realize:
"Maybe I can try it too."
That's the kind of creative ecosystem I want to help build.
Not just a comic scene.
Not just an illustration scene.
But an independent creative industry where comics, animation, games, publishing, and other forms of storytelling can grow together.
And maybe Zamora is just one small piece of that.
The Solution: Stop Waiting for Permission
If you're reading this because you're also thinking about making your first comic, here's what I would tell you.
Don't wait until you're ready.
You're probably never going to feel ready.
Don't wait until your drawing is perfect.
It won't be.
Don't wait for a publisher.
You can make something first.
Don't wait for a huge audience.
You don't need one to begin.
Make one page.
Then make another.
Finish something.
Put it somewhere people can see it.
Let people react.
Learn.
Make the next one better.
That's how you build.
Not through one giant leap.
Through hundreds of tiny decisions that eventually become something substantial.
That's how I got here.
And apparently...
That's the answer I was looking for all those years ago.
And to Everyone Who Supported Zamora...
I want to say this properly.
Thank you.
To everyone who bought Zamora Volume 1...
Thank you.
To everyone who bought the Lorebook...
Thank you.
To everyone who bought stickers, shirts, sketch cards, or anything else from the table...
Thank you.
To everyone who commissioned a sketch...
Thank you.
To everyone who stopped and asked about the story...
Thank you.
To everyone who simply looked at the booth for a few seconds before continuing...
Thank you.
And especially to those who came over and talked to us...
Thank you.
You may have thought it was just a conversation.
For me, some of those conversations were the highlight of the entire event.
Ask, and You Shall Receive
So now I want to pass the question forward.
If you've been thinking about creating something of your own...
What's stopping you from making the first page?
Maybe you want to make a comic.
Maybe an animation.
Maybe a game.
Maybe a children's book.
Maybe an entire universe.
Don't worry about making the whole thing today.
Make the first piece.
One panel.
One page.
One sketch.
One scene.
One tiny step.
Then share it.
Because you never know.
The thing you're making for yourself today might become the thing that gives someone else permission to start tomorrow.
That's what Zamora taught me.
And honestly...
I don't think I could have learned it from anywhere else.
Final Thought
A few years ago, I was the person asking:
"Where do I begin?"
Now I'm standing at a convention booth with a graphic novel I created, and someone else is asking me the exact same question.
I used to think that meant I had finally reached the finish line.
Now I realize...
It means I've become part of someone else's starting line.
And that's probably the greatest thing Zamora has given me.
Not the book.
Not the sales.
Not the booth.
Not even the convention.
The chance to show someone that it is possible.
So if you're waiting for a sign to start your comic...
This is it.
Just start drawing comics.
One panel is enough.
Then another.
And another.
Until one day, someone is standing in front of your table asking:
"How did you make this?"
And you'll finally understand the answer.
You just started.
And you didn't stop.
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