The Mary Sue presents a guest essay by Ren Strapp, comic book artist and author of How Could You.
To 18-year-old Ren, college was a salvation. It was a way for me to move out of my family’s home and guarantee a job. To 21-year-old Ren, college was a weight around my neck.
I had self-imposed expectations. I thought that I would never make a career out of being an artist and that whatever I went to college for had to be my career for the rest of my life. I also thought that I was supposed to be magically and instantly a fully responsible and mature adult the second the clock struck midnight on April 10th (my birthday) the year I graduated high school. The pressure was building.
When I am unbearably sad and scared, I put my head down and work very hard. It’s a form of dissociation that causes holes in my memory. Memories of my college years resemble pieces of tissue that’s been left in a jean pocket and put through the wash. By the last semester of my degree, I was spending 12+ hours in the library, working late into the night in the basement to avoid reality. Either at home or on campus in rural Maryland, I was in the midst of my young adult angst and I was miserable.
I did not get the prestigious job at a museum in DC after graduation. Hello? Whatever happened to the “redeemable for one job” coupon that the dean hands you on crossing the stage at graduation? What had I just spent years and thousands of dollars on? What were all the late nights and tears for?
Instead, I relocated to a forested, mountainous region of rural New York to live with my family, away from any museum or city. Instead, I was driving an hour every day to sell Supernatural friendship bracelets at the nearest Hot Topic. Don’t get me wrong—that was one of my favorite jobs! But it was far from the Met, far from the Smithsonians, far from the Louvre.
All the while, my former classmates were posting their summer of career successes on Facebook. I wanted to die. I was seething with jealousy and insecurity. I deleted Facebook and further isolated myself from everyone I had ever known.
I was fed up. Then, an epiphany hit me: I could do retail anywhere. With that, I closed the chapter on college completely; I freed myself from any expectations that my 18-year-old self had set. I committed to the bit and moved across the country to get whatever retail job I could.
This was the post-college reckoning: letting go of a reality that did not exist and slowly learning to embrace real life. Now, the important things in life were making new friends, learning how to bike in the city, and getting in and out of weird housing situations. In coming to terms with adulthood, I was open to whatever opportunity came my way.
While I was figuring out how to live life without the guardrails of school, another epiphany hit me. I could make art my career. Despite my best efforts to suppress my creative drive in favor of a “real” career, I couldn’t stop my hand from reaching for the pen. I began by making zines, then taking community classes, then sharing my work. Four years after graduation in 2019, I was freelancing as a designer and launching my own art career.
During the pandemic, when I began work on How Could You, I was not in a good place. The fear, the thirst to just check out, the deep unhappiness with my life all rushed to a head. It reminded me of my college years. In between three jobs, I fell into the familiar comfort of long nights at the desk as my first graphic novel took shape. Writing How Could You helped me process the misery of the past and present, eventually shaking me out of my escapist habit.
I went to school for art history and French. I do not regret my choice in study. I have used my degree in my work, including How Could You. Lots of panels in How Could You directly reference 19th century paintings and compositions. The location is a lot of wish fulfillment. I never got the opportunity to study abroad, despite the encouragement of my professors. I was determined to get my degree within three years, and a semester abroad wasn’t in the cards for me. Yona and Olene get to experience it on my behalf.
I’m writing this essay from behind my table at a community event in Port Angeles WA, a remote town in the northmost, westmost corner of the country, surrounded by forests and mountains. I’m taking breaks to smile and say “hi there” and give my sales pitch on my comics. I’m still doing retail in the mountains, but I’m doing what I thought I would never be lucky enough to do.
I barely remember the years that inspired How Could You. It’s as if my time there was spent in another world, only accessible when I’m the most depressed I’ve ever been. My heart goes out to all the young adults fumbling their way through college and life after. It can be a maddening, isolating time, and the feeling of failure is breathing heavily down your neck. Be patient, be honest, be open.
One of the things you learn in college is that you will need to face your true self. What comes next is learning how.
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Read an excerpt of How Could You, available in comic shops everywhere December 2024:
