If you had told 10-year-old me that my future would revolve around talking raccoons, exaggerated faces, and an endless supply of sketchbooks, I would’ve thrown a crayon at you — out of excitement, of course. Becoming a cartoon artist didn’t happen overnight. It was a journey paved with scribbles, long nights, and a lot of trial and error. But if you’re here, reading this, maybe that path is calling you too. Let me take you behind the curtain and share how I turned my passion for drawing into something more — a career.

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Before I even knew what "cartooning" really was, I fell in love with drawing. Not polished pieces or finished comics — just drawing. I spent hours sketching weird creatures, superheroes with spaghetti limbs, and lopsided cats. But the real turning point? Learning the basics. I dove into anatomy, perspective, motion. I drew shapes until they formed bodies. I watched how people moved, how expressions danced across their faces. I wasn’t born with magic hands — I just practiced. Every. Single. Day.

My tools were simple: a sketchbook, a mechanical pencil, and eventually, a drawing tablet. That was all I needed to begin.

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The first time I opened Cartoon Animation by Preston Blair, something clicked. Cartooning wasn’t just drawing funny faces — it was storytelling. It was exaggeration, timing, rhythm. It was turning a still image into an emotion, a punchline, a plot twist. I binge-read Understanding Comics by Scott McCloud. I devoured online courses late at night on Skillshare and Domestika. I filled pages with wild characters and awkward storyboards. It wasn’t always pretty, but it was progress.

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Eventually, my sketchbooks started overflowing, and I made the jump to digital. That’s where things really exploded. I got comfortable with Procreate, played around with Photoshop, and took my first steps into animation with Adobe Animate and Toon Boom. Learning digital tools felt like opening a secret doorway. Layers? Brushes? Undo buttons?! It was a whole new world — and one that helped bring my characters to life in a way paper never could.

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For a while, I tried to draw like everyone else. I mimicked anime, I copied comic book styles — and while that taught me a lot, none of it felt like me.

So I let go. I experimented. I leaned into the weirdness, the exaggeration, the stuff that made me laugh. And slowly, my own style began to surface. Not perfect, not polished, but mine.

Posting online helped. I shared sketches on Instagram, got feedback on ArtStation, and connected with other artists through Discord servers. The support (and constructive criticism) helped shape my voice.

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Once I had a body of work I was proud of, I built a portfolio — my visual resume. I included character turnarounds, emotion sheets, short comics, and a few finished digital illustrations. I tailored it depending on whether I was applying to an animation studio, a comic gig, or a freelance job.

our portfolio isn’t just about what you can do — it’s about what you love to do. Let that shine.

One of the biggest surprises? How friendly the art world is. I joined Reddit art threads, attended a local comic con, even nervously messaged a few artists I admired for advice. (Spoiler: many replied!)

Connections matter. Whether you’re teaming up for a webcomic, landing freelance gigs, or just sharing memes with fellow artists, community is everything.

My first paid gig? A short comic strip for an indie zine. I earned just enough for coffee and a sketchbook — but it felt like a million bucks. 

From there, I slowly grew. Freelance projects. Webcomic collaborations. Eventually, short animations. It wasn’t always steady, but it was always worth it.

Today, I get to wake up and draw characters that make people laugh, cry, or just smile for a second. That’s the magic of cartooning.

So, can you become a cartoon artist? Absolutely. Will it take time, effort, and more crumpled sketches than you can count? Of course. But if you love it — truly love it — the journey itself becomes the reward.

Start where you are. Draw what makes you feel alive. And never, ever stop doodling.

I’ll see you in the sketchbook margins.